On Tuesdays I go over to Mike’s for boardgames and while we’re building churches to win the favor of the Pharaoh or whatever his wife is usually in the next room watching American Idol.
Now, when I say I don’t listen to music on the radio, people never believe me. They think I mean that I don’t listen to most music on the radio. Or some music. Or that what I mean is that I don’t listen to music on the radio very often. Some even think that what I mean by “I don’t ever listen to music on the radio” is “I often listen to music on the radio and therefore know all about this song you’re trying to tell me about.” The truth is, I don’t listen to music on the radio. Period. If I’m in the car — which is the only time a radio is on near me — I listen to CDs or NPR or, more often than not, nothing. I say this to point out that I really have not followed popular music and the trends within it for some time.
Therefore, I was unaware of just how prevalent the Cult of Whitney and Mariah had become. It seems that the only way to sing a song (especially if you’re a woman) is to sing every note around the one you’re aiming for. Folks love this crap.
A couple weeks ago there was a theme night on American Idol: Rape the Beatles. It was rendition after stunningly godawful rendition of Beatles’ songs, all done in this style. “Penny Lane is in my ears and in my ey-YE-ye-ye–ye–ye-ye-YE-es…” They were all terrible, but some of them garnered high praise from the judges. This week the Beatles were spared, but more songs I was familiar with were butchered.
One person did a version of “Alone” by Heart. This song starts off slow for the verse and then gets yelly for the chorus, like a lot of Heart songs. It was obvious that the person singing had no idea what to do during the slow, quiet parts. Once the chorus kicked in she knew it was time to belt that shit out for the fans out on Saturn, but until then she just had to wait for that moment. Oh hey, there’s a video of it on YouTube. You can see what I’m talking about.
Now, this is nothing to be ashamed of, Ramiele. Even the Diva Goddess herself, Whitney Houston, had this problem. In her smash-hit shriekage, “The Greatest Love of All”, if you listen closely, you can hear that Whitney herself can’t WAIT to get to the shouty bits. Check out the 1:08 mark here in this video.
My point here is: you kids pull your pants up.