Musics Reviews! By SB, Mayor of Tangent City.

As you may have noticed, we Sperber Sisters thoroughly enjoy occasional passing off of the 31CL pen to our long-term cynic bestie, SB Bennett, cause she’s aggro for miles and loves to git off topic like it’s nobody’s business - hence her exciting new appointment as Mayor of Tangent City! As of this second, SB lives in the middle of nowhere with only a pack of small dogs and homegrown broccoli, so her knowledge of recent popular jammery is significantly impaired. As an act of sheer torture, we thought it best to force feed her some of our choice Top 40 cuts and make her review them, under the threat of her never getting a new totebag from now into eternity and beyond. Below please find SB’s terrificly catty round-ups!

(Editor’s Note: We sincerely didn’t intend to make this post so lady-centric but since we’re a sister driven company and girls are mostly great and perfect, we’re just gonna roll wif it.)

xo31CL (Aim/Heath/Teet)

Like most natural born persons of fat, I’ve never been one to move quickly on purpose.  That was until I hit the wall of being old/having to go to my sister’s wedding, where upon I decided that it might be good to be able to run ten paces without feeling like my lungs were on fire/not have people look at the wedding pictures thinking I’m the bride at a shotgun wedding.  Now I runnnnn fairly regularly (it’s like running, but much, much slower), and in order to keep myself from focusing too much on the shooting pain in any given part of my body, I like to soundtrack my movement with upbeat jams.  Granted, dance jams aren’t exactly my area of expertise, but running to, say, beloved old pop music from New Zealand is tough (believe me, it exists! and I’ve tried!), and I stopped giving a crap about Jay-Z after he retired the first time.  So Teeter has given me some of her favorite current tunes to enhance my runnnnnning experience, and she has asked me to review them for your pleasure. Most of them aren’t really runnn-worthy (I won’t run to Jason Mraz, but I would run *from* him), but Teet likes it when I hate things, so everyone wins.  Except my body, which hurts.
-SB

Jason Mraz, “I’m Yours”

"I thought said hat was probably covering a bald spot, plus he wears flip flops."

Before I even start talking about the song itself, it should be known that Teeter and I have sparred over the quality of Jason Mraz’s songcraft years ago (datexedge.com makes us look insane! go scope it sometime!), even though I think I’ve only ever heard one of his songs (she said his lame hat was hiding unknown potential, I thought said hat was probably covering a bald spot, plus he wears flip flops). Ten seconds into this song though I knew that I’d hate it, because it sounds vaguely like that strangely emotional, ukulele version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” that was used effectively when Dr. Greene died on ER (effective in that it made me cry, but ER made me cry over the years more than anything else on TV, I think because every 10th frame they’d subliminally sneak in a picture of a dying puppy), and used cloyingly at the end of the Hawaiian season of “The Real World,” which was probably too long ago for many readers to remember, and realizing that that season was so long ago that everybody on it is probably married/a parent/in the later stages of alcoholism is making me a little misty as a type this.  Long story short, this guy’s voice is annoying, it reminds me instantly of annoying, and ladies, if a guy puts this on a mix for you in the first few weeks of your togetherness, run for your life. Take it from me, I know things, I’ve seen a lot of crap (like the Hawaiian season of “The Real World”).

KSM, “I Want You To Want Me”

Again, assuming your readership is of the age demographic that prefers MTV’s basic location-based programming (”The Hills,” “The City,” “The Cul de Sac,” etc), I feel the need to point out this song is a cover of a song by the band Cheap Trick.  Cheap Trick rose to prominence in the 70’s/80’s–  they perfected the half-ugly/half-pretty band dynamic, which applied not just to their faces, but their names (the lead singer is named Robin [beloved dreamboat], the drummer is named Bun [sounds, looks like he's escaped from McDonaldland]), a dynamic which was proceeded by having a mixed-looks band with a bass player of indeterminate brown origin, but that’s neither here nor there.  Point is, their most famous release was a double LP called “Live at Budokan,” a recording of them performing their hits before a crowd of screaming girls in Japan (screaming for Robin, not Bun), and while it was ultimately revealed that a lot of the screams were put in later, I really like that these girls are covering this song instead of screaming at it.  Although it’s even more confusing than that, since KSM are really covering the other girl-based cover of this song, which was done for the movie “10 Things I Hate About You,” since this version is for the (kind of funny/awesomely feminist) TV show based on that movie, which is based on Shakespeare.  So this is the cover of a cover for a TV show of a movie of a play.  We are through the looking glass here people.  Also, this is an excellent song to do at karaoke, especially if a dude you like is nearby (and if you think the dude’ll be freaked out, eff him, he’s probably a big baby that would’ve made you a Jason Mraz-based mix CD).

Jordin Sparks, “Battlefield”

Most people my age hear a song called “Battlefield” and think of a ye olde video for a Pat Benetar song called “Love is a Battlefield” which featured a bunch of women dressed like post-apocalypitc sea wenches doing a quasi-”Thriller” dance in formation towards some dude, which, I guess, is how troops advance on the “battlefield” of relationships.  Personally, I have never donned a shirt with the neck cut off and joined in a group shimmy towards some jerk who didn’t text his girl back, but whatever, that was my first thought about this song.  That and the singer’s name is spelled wrong and should probably be Jordan Spirks. (Is she from American Idol or something? I know, I know, who doesn’t watch AI, but I tried watching the first season of that show and couldn’t discern a difference between the show and the commercial breaks since everybody was dressed like giant cups of COCA COLA and in between every person singing a song in an inappropriate key there was twenty minutes of contestants scriptedly palling around in a Ford.)  Whatever, this song isn’t bad– everybody loves the yin and yang of raw synth beat (grr!) and tender emotional piano (sob!)–but Teet promised me some sort of eternal rollerjam anthem, and I’m not feeling that at all.  This song does not make me want to wear boots with leggings, gather some mutual friends of the great pirate princess sleeves, and smother a heartbreaker with choreography.  This song is maybe best for the kinds of girls who’d be woo’d and then dumped by a guy who serenades them by singing along to Jason Mraz?

Pink, “Please Don’t Leave Me”

I kind of admire Pink in that she’s been around forever in pop years–started with that song where she had to act all thuggy over the sound of Timbalake-esque bubbles popping in the background, went on to make a record of bad teen poetry that, I swear to god, is to lesbians’ cars what Paul Simon’s “Graceland” is to suburban Volvos, did some record with that jerk from Rancid that nobody cared about (team Brody, ’sup), and yet she still remains relevant 10ish years later with her bizarro mixture of beats, anger, and the self-absorbtion of a tween (no offense, tweens, but remember to hold on to them diaries, because in ten years, those entries about feeling unpretty will be comedy gold, I promise you).  This song is extra bizarro in that there’s that “Lalala” thing in the background that makes her sound like she’s both in pain and blissfully lobotomized. Plus, like all the Pink songs I’ve heard (not many, I admit–both myself and my car prefer dudes), this is up to her lyrical standard of zero-subtlety– she doesn’t just eschew metaphors to make her emotional point, she often doesn’t bother to rhyme, because that would get in the way of explaining *exactly* how she feels, because feelings put dinner on her table, but in case you wanted a break from her uptempo catharsis, there’s her disembodied voice in the background, with the acoustics making it sound like she recorded while she was on the toilet, cooing like a moron.  At the end of the day tho, this song has all things Pink– emotion like a ton of bricks and a “rock” sound (which at this point really just means live drums over synth/sampled ones, ask the Roots)– but no “hook,” which is the catchy part of the song you find yourself humming while, say, on the toilet.  Just a lalala afterthought.  So whatever, not her best.  And because I have to keep mentioning it, I hate Jason Mraz.

Taylor Swift, “Love Story”

FYI, in case she hasn’t made it abundantly clear, Teet loves Taylor Swift.  They share initials, love for the Jonai, and each other’s pain.  So, as Teet’s platonic life partner ™, I have heard this song before, and while it isn’t awful, it’s basically Shania, Jr., and even if you like pop country, it’s not so easy to runnn to.  BTW, pop country, as I define it, is a standard pop song with a token country instrument (slide guitar, fiddle, banjo, all of which make cameos here) and completely intelligible lyrics that tell a story with a beginning, middle and end.  (FWIW, rock critic/pariah Chuck Klosterman pretty much agrees with me, although he hates “alt country” for being pretentious or something, but then again, he also worships the band Explosions in the Sky, and they ain’t exactly Clint Black, so he can kiss my Lucinda Williams-loving butt).  So Taylor Swift starts her story with, “We were both young when I first saw you,” which, relative to her current age, means she’s singing about a dude she met in pre-K playgroup.  It’s also got that classic pop country theme of “let’s run away from this small town,” which, weirdly, is as popular as, “god bless our small town” (that we can’t wait to run away from?).  Then she and her beau become Romeo and Juliet, but she also says she has a “scarlet letter” (WTF?), which means she’s either saying that she’s a star-crossed lover who’s also been shunned for cuckolding her husband, or that English 101 was bypassed for eye makeup application 101 by her homeschooler.  The story ends with her and her Romeo getting engaged, natch, which is a story that could really only be pulled off by someone as young as she is, because as jaded and gristled as I am, I hear small town teen love stories and think less of “Romeo and Juliet” and more of MTV’s “16 & Pregnant.”  So I understand why Teet likes it ’cause it has an actual melody, but the lyrics/story are so dominant, and that story is so nauseating, that I can’t deal.  Jason Mraz.  LOL.

Miley Cyrus, “The Climb”

Even I know who Miley Cyrus is–I’m old, but I read US Weekly before I get my haircut and I’ve seen her signature backpack line at Target (Go! Collection, meet No! Collection). Still, the whole Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana phenomenon is totally lost on me, if only because her dad is such an obvious, you-have-got-to-be-joking-me tool shed who had the most unreal mullet in the history of popular culture (so curly and long that not even the dirtbaggiest Williamsburger wouldn’t attempt it as it defied both gravity and irony) and taught the world to line dance, a practice which infects our weddings and state fairs to this day.  I mean, his one hit song will not die–he’s Hank Williams to the dark denim shorts set–but now he’s a grown ass man with obviously straightened hair who’s trying to look like he’s someone in their 20s except that someone is 20whatever in the early 90s instead of now and looks like they try to look mall-alt and wounded in order to prey on 15-year-old girls.  And her dad is important because there is no way on this earth she would be famous had her daddy not decided he couldn’t feed his family on achy breaky heart ring tone money alone and pushed his baby girl into the spotlight.  Because she’s fairly average in the face, with or without a blonde wig, and this song is passing as generic pop country (see Taylor Swift, but this is way more country-by-numbers) but could so easily be stumbled upon when spinning the FM dial in the middle of nowhere and finding the station that has all love songs crooned by dudes that are not in honor of ladies but are in fact creepy odes to Jesus the Christ.  Teeter only made me hear this because she knew I’d hate it (nobody could run to this–grandmas couldn’t gun their Pride Jazzy ™ scooters to this), and surprise, Teet knows my life, barf. If you find yourself feeling up against it all and this is the song that inspires you, then a, you probably deserve to fail, b, Jesus saves, and c, this review has unbelievably long sentences that are as jumbled and urgent as Jason Mraz’s need to buy a vowel.

T.I. (feat. Rihanna), “Live Your Life”

Of all the songs Teet has zapped me for this experiment, this is the one I’m most likely to actually runnnn to (and good for me, I’d actually heard this song before since I’ve both seen “The Hangover” and shop at H&M, my ultimate source for what the kids listen to these days) (and clothes that are likely to burst into flame).  The only thing I don’t get is why Rihanna, who can sing (”Umbrella” = H&M’s number 1 jam for over a year running, finally over taking Mariah Carey’s “We Belong Together,” which, despite being many years old, is probably playing right now at the H&M at the Rockingham Mall), is auto-tuned/vocodered to death at times.  I know everybody loves auto-tune right now, but, to paraphrase producer Steve Albini, there’s a fine line between nudging someone’s vocal stylings into the correct key and making them sound like physicist Stephen Hawking.  I also admire than not every song on this record “features” someone else, because at the end of the day, hip-hop artists are so insecure they make Woody Allen look macho–did I mention how nice my rims are and how many ladies I get with and oh yeah see how many people wanna collabo with me and in no way do I have anything to prove oh yeah I fear nothing and nobody which is why me and my 13 friends are heavily armed–so for this guy to stand alone for so many tracks makes me think that hip-hop’s not headed into a Kanye vortex of co-dependence and self-doubt.  And while Teet promised that Jordan Spirks would be a fist-pumping anthem, I say that this is way more likely to be played when fist-pumping is called for, like at a sporting event, high school graduation, or parking lot of the Sonic Drive-In in Anahiem, CA on any given Saturday night.  Or during an elder she-fat’s daily runnnn on the streets near her house.  Or when an angry mob finally gathers to stone and crucify Jason Mraz.

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