I keep proChristinating this post, thinking it will become a moot point once this leaves my consciousness. But this song is either in heavy rotation on my local station or I’m simply attenuated to it.
Perhaps finally writing this ridiculous post will jar it loose.
Plus, I’ve kinda been on a Chris’ Musical Musings World Tour lately, so…why not? Add to that I’m getting a little I.V. anesthesia soon and I assume you’ll see my moderate urgency in finally completing this. Maybe.
When was the last time you heard the song Rapture by Blondie? Better yet, when was the last time you listened to it?
High School?
College?
Ask yourself this, were we listening to it or hearing it? Because, I gotta tell ya…hearing it is one completely enjoyable bop. Listening to it however made me wonder if this is suddenly the first time in my life I’ve not been…impaired while hearing it.
Witness:
Fair enough beginning, right? Until the shopping part, you could fairly assume it’s a song about dancing. That spine themed stanza or verse is particularly evocative of dance.
Then this…possibly the first breakdown – that’s what rapping used to be called, kids – in musical history by a white woman. Arguably one of the best – although reading said breakdown may cause fresh arguments on that topic.
Were we collectively high when we were grooving to this? No? Just stupid?
Fair enough.
Who knew Subaru was a plural form of itself? Also, RIP: Mercury Motors. Clearly they didn’t get the celebrity spokesperson memo…
But that breakdown just keeps going. Like it’s finished digging its absurdity hole and decides to pull the dirt in after itself.
Ate all the cars. Switched to bars, but not bars with TVs playing and then went on a guitar diet.
What the heck?
I cannot decide if I need to just admit to myself I was a stupid kid when it came to lyrics like these or if I should fabricate a backstory that includes a little stay at this little place I know of in the desert. That would be a good cover…
atleastihaveafrigginglass 
Rule number one in music, don’t read it. You’ll be disappointed. 😂
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Just read your post, starting the song on YouTube now. Never herd it before in my life.
Thanks for making me feel young today.
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Okay… I don’t love this song. 1) The lyrics are fucking weird. 2) She sounds like she’s whining and not actually singing. – Where you high when you bopped to this song?? I cannot suggest what extra-curricular activities Christopher used to partake in. Perhaps you just had no clue what the song was about because it literally sounds like a screeching mouse for half of it, and the other half is a white-woman trying to rap. This is just bizarre.
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OMG, laughing so hard right now! This made my night!
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Okay, so I had to search this song last night to find it on YouTube. YouTube seems to have taken my typing “Blondie” into their system as my liking Blondie, because this morning when I went to go find a playlist it’s all screechy mouse city….
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I’m officially done spamming you now. Sorry. Not Really, though.
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Haha…I’ve quite enjoyed it.
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Interesting. As well as outrageously literal.
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You say that now, but I think you’d be singing a different tune if it was your head that this ravenous man from Mars had eaten.
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Punk! My ex used to call me Oldie Hawn. You get *that* reference, right? 😂
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Your ex is clever. Not smart because he didn’t keep you around, and that’s an idiotic move unrelated to nicknames. But clever nonetheless.
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The issue, as discussed in “Black Lipstick”, is how Punk sold out so fast. How the suits turned protest, humor and satire into bubble gum. You can guess what the song is mocking, but the line “eating guitars” is a blatant hint.
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Oooh, now *that’s* interesting! Makes me think I wasn’t high enough for my mind to be able to break through that code!
You really think this was a kind of eff the man type of song? I mean, the whole thing about not eating bars where the TV was on takes an interesting twist toward capitalism through that lens…as in, barts that had advertising washing over their more easily influenced consumers were safe places” gets a really messed up translation.
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Very good. The rise of “dance” and synthesizers, the death of the “song” format, Rapture and x , the fledgling (US) corralled rave mentality, be what the media says to be, it’s all there.
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I read the words at least twice before I aroused my spouse, from his sleep, and asked if he was familiar with this recording. He was just as clueless as I was. However, the referenced Martian did somehow solve my confusion. I guess the song made sense when shared in outer space! 🙂 Glad that you liked it! Naked hugs!
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