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?
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.
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?
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…