"Signs", by the one-hit wonder Five Man Electrical Band (with a clever name like that, who could have imagined a future of obscurity?) is nothing short of dangerous when it comes on the car radio: I immediately stab at the dashboard in order to change the station, moments later finding myself with the defrost blowing at full storm, the hazard signals blinking inexplicably to the drivers behind me, and, on the bright side, something else (anything else) playing on the car stereo. It is a song that make me wish that Orwell's vision had partially come true and Big Brother could deem that the song doesn't exist, never existed, and will never exist. The original, and the even lamer version by 80's-top-40-and-90's-cut-out-bin stars Tesla.
To its credit, the plodding sing-along chorus can get stuck in my head, and by some people's measure, that's the sign of a good song. But what about advertising jingles for insurance companies? They get stuck in my head, too, yet that's hardly a commentary on their cultural value.
I mentioned my loathing of this song to a friend once, who looked at me quizzically---not that he wanted to come to its defense, but that it seemed like too innocuous of a tune to elicit a venomous reaction, like saying the worst actor of all time was one of the stars of the sit-com Wings. (You pick which one.) Granted, both are extreme long shots for an Oscar nomination, but they're more forgettable than contemptible. But "Signs" is completely deserving of my loathing.
Yes, yes, I know, the sentiment itself is admirable ("everywhere is sign/blocking out the scenery/breaking my mind.") Unfortunately, it is expressed with all of the nuance of a 10th grade stoner in creative writing class who is beaming with delight because he's stumbled onto something pseudo-profound without having to cop lines from an early Blue Oyster Cult song. The song's characters are all paper cut-outs and straw men, exaggerated caricatures of establishment-types (and hippies) who bear more resemblance to cartoons than to fully-realized people.
It's quite simply an incredibly sophomoric and annoying song. The same year saw fellow Canadian Neil Young singing about the slaughter at Kent State University in "Ohio", and Joni Mitchell lamenting the collision of ecology versus economics with "Big Yellow taxi"---and these putzes are offering up a commentary on naturalism that makes John Denver seem profound. (Which he sometimes was, I respect him very much; but "Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy" could have been stolen from a 7-year-old's poetry journal.)
While I might be able to live with inane (I own a Matthew Sweet album, after all), the overt pseudo-christian theme---in one verse, "If god was here, he'd tell you to your face, man, you're some kind of sinner," followed by the whole creepy "kneel down and pray" verse. (The irony apparently lost that "the church" has more than it's fair share of infringements on your personal freedoms. What did Moses carry down from the mountaintop? Signs.)
My band once did a sound check while Dan Fogelberg sat at the bar. My friend Scott recognized him and chatted him up afterward, having a nice conversation. (He's a warm and charming man, then residing in our home state of Maine.) Dan reflected on the industry, and how hard it is for young bands to get noticed. To paraphrase him, "When I was coming up, if you had one pretty good song you could get a record deal."
As "Signs" confirms, apparently it didn't even have to be pretty good.
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