The worst song ever (runner up) - More Than Words

There are a variety of ways you can make a song horrible---flat singing, sappy arrangements, or even having it performed by David Sanborn (whose comically emotive saxophone performances look like a scatological SNL skit writ large.) But these are performance issues, stylistic decisions that limit a song's appeal without damning the song itself---after all, David Sanborn could ham an Elliott Smith song well past ridiculousness, and the song would be as much of a victim as the listener. In other words, a good song can be turned to shit.

Other songs are written as shit. For instance, "More Than Words" by the one-hit-no-wonder band Extreme. (Whose name performs a semantic feat by managing to pack an oxymoron into a single word.) The band's notoriety spawned from the barely-post-hair-metal guitar stylings of Nuno Bettencort, whose graceful fretwork was deservedly noteworthy; the band's descent into obscurity (a plummet so brisk that they even managed to avoid the radar of "Where are they now" specials) could be attributed to frontman Gary Cherone, who is to hard-rock vocals what Potsie Webber was to doo-wop. (To put Cherone's star power in perspective, his first post-Extreme gig found him as the new lead singer for post-Sammy Van Halen, a personnel decision that offended massive numbers of Van Halen fans before the band even began recording Van Halen III, a record "...commonly said to be Van Halen's most unpopular album", says the Wikipedia post, "the album not even listed on the band's discography.")

I pick on Cherone because he is credited with being the lyrical mastermind of Extreme (another oxymoron), which means the brunt of the blame for this paean to hormonal teenage manipulation falls on his skinny shoulders. Apparently an homage to date-rape wasn't considered commercially viable, so he instead crafted a lyric about pressuring one's partner to express their emotions in other ways, without relying on words. With a voice that's less blue-eyed soul than David Soul, he croons is his wanker semi-falsetto:

Saying "I love you" is not the words I want to hear from you
Its not that I want you not to say, but if you only knew
How easy it would be to show me how you feel
More than words is all you have to do to make it real
Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me, because I'd already know

Frankly, navigating the compound double negatives of the first couplet is a minor feat, and I stumble on the grammar every time (might it be "are not the words", not "is not the words"?) But I digress.

What I loathe about this song is both the transparent effort to brand copulation as a "real" expression of love, and the sophomoric eagerness of the narrator's overt selfishness---does he speak of any reciprocation or affection returned? None. "Show me how you feel", "not the word I want to hear", and "then I'd already know." Well bully for you, Gary, you found a way to coo a supposed love song about emotional blackmail for the cause of self-satisfaction, giving inarticulate high schoolers nationwide fodder for clumsy mix-tape-enabled sexual advances.

In an astonishing bit of irony, the lyrical counterpoint to this song is quite likely "Jamie's Crying", from Van Halen's debut album. The lyrics, presumably penned by David Lee Roth, are about a woman who refuses her blue-balled suitor's amorous advances: "She saw the look in his eyes and she knew better...now Jamie wouldn't say all right, she knew he'd forget her, so they said ah-good night and now he's gone forever." Roth's lyrics promote self-respect and intelligence in a sexual situation, while Cherone's lyrics offer belated advice to the guy who Jamie rebuffed. As far as I'm concerned, if you can be lyrically and morally out-nuanced by David "I can't wait to feel your love tonight" Roth, you're the scum that forms at the top of the rock and roll gene pool. No wonder Alex and Eddie wanted Dave back.

That iTunes charges 99 cents for both this wimpy ballad and---heck, I was going to say "Sway", the fabulous song by the Rolling Stones, but you can insert almost any song into this comparison---is more criminal than anything Napster ever did.

A Few Words about Urban Pestilence

We regularly see our friend Jimbo when we visit Powell's, our encounters especially fun for Sage because he sometimes gives her wonderful used books like Audubon guides, insect identifiers, or titles like the one featured here, Peterson's First Guide to Urban Wildlife. I admit, I would have figured an urban wildlife book to be about 10 pages long, featuring the usual suspects of urban living: Squirrels, raccoons, opossums, pigeons, frogs, and the gamut of mice-like creatures of various sizes.

However, this urban guide is surprisingly comprehensive in its documentation of (and definition of) "urban wildlife", and it affords me the opportunity to comment on a few of the urban pests that have been annoying me lately. I know, it's in vogue to be kind to animals, save their habitat, blah blah blah, but let's face it, some of these beasts are simply rude, and we should cease the political correctness and call a rose a rose.Here are just three of them:


The Moon Jellyfish
I admit, I am partially responsible for my conflict with the urban jellyfish---I guess I'm a country boy at heart, because I just never think to watch for a dessert-plate-sized gelatinous mass of creepiness standing in line in front of me at Peet's Coffee. Yes, I stepped on it (and apologized profusely) but that didn't give the jellyfish the right to berate me in front of the whole coffeeshop---contrary to his (her?) opinion, I'm not a self-centered and arrogant human and I do not wear "clown shoes"; I just didn't notice the two-inch high pile of translucent goo in the bean line. Maybe if they rode Segways or soaked themselves in kool-aid before going out they could avoid these uncomfortable situations.


The Turkey Vulture
I liked turkey vultures at first---Sage and I would go to Laurelthirst Park on Sunday mornings and toss them bread crusts, chunks of meatloaf, even the occasional moon jellyfish. (Surprise.) But the thing you need to know about turkey vultures is that they are very much like drunk humans: You can be sitting there laughing, having a great time, and suddenly something changes and the happy is over---and you're stuck with a belligerent bastard who refuses to listens to logic. We were at the park one morning, eight or so of these birds gleefully chomping down on our leftover Panang Peanut chicken (I know, a bit gross to feed bird to a bird, but I just tell them it's frog), and as is inevitable, we ran out. I showed them the empty take-out container, clearly miming the universal signals for "no more food...all...gone", and the greedy bastards suddenly swarmed over our pet pug Masher and devoured him before I could intervene. Sure, everybody's got to eat, but consider the consequences: Now every time Sage sees a bird, she asks, "Dad, is that bird going to eat our new dog?"
"No honey, that's a pigeon. Pigeons aren't assholes."


The Humpback Whale
I don't mean to sound xenophobic, but when are we going to wake up to the problem of humpback immigration? I have nothing against any of them personally, but have you ever ridden public transportation with an urban humpback? Let me tell you how it goes: Rush hour, crowded bus, and the only empty seat is next to some sprawling whale who knows you want to sit down, but refuses to move until you ask, "Can you move that---um, flippery thing so I can sit?" Then, without fail, they launch into some whine about how they used to have lots of space, but humans ruined the ocean so now they have to live in some cramped studio apartment, missing their pods, blah blah blah. I usually offer some half-assed apology, just to shut up their high-pitched bitching (hello?! You sound like a hearing aid feeding back), but frankly, I'm tired of their righteousness. I didn't invent pollution, I didn't locate cow pastures on the banks of rivers, and I shouldn't be blamed for this supposed krill shortage. (Which I suspect is a myth, since I've never heard anyone except a humpback complain about it.)

There are a few other urban creatures in the book that I'd like to gripe about (don't even get me started on lobsters), but I'm afraid if I list more, I'm going to sound unreasonable.

New Soundtrack to Victory

The Mavericks and the Lakers had 90-seconds to break the 100-point tie when Los Angeles called a time-out, the Staples Center public address system promptly filling the stadium with the distinctive riff that introduces "Welcome to the Jungle" by Guns and Roses.

Apparently, the faux-menace of Axl Rose's "You know where you are? You're in the jungle, baby, and you're gonna die" was intended to announce the Maverick's impending doom, though I sensed two flaws with that method of sonic intimidation: First, everyone in my age bracket remembers the MTV video for the song, which featured Axl in an ill-fitting Liberace-white leather pantsuit (Or was that the video where his lifeless locks were teased and sprayed to look like Lindsey Lohan after she inserted a dinner fork into an electrical outlet?) Second, the same song is played at every other NBA venue in America, even at Miami Heat games, whose threat-level this year resides somewhere between that of Bob Newhart and Scooby Doo's Shaggy.

There are a million rock songs available for broadcast, so why does every venue in America feel obligated to keep Appetite for Destruction (the G&R album that spawned the song) in constant rotation? In such contexts, the song is as overplayed as Queen's "We Will Rock You", yet even lacks the engaging stomp-stomp-clap that at least makes the Queen song an interactive experience.

In case the ubiquity of that song is due to a lack of time to research replacements, I have compiled a new list of game-ending anthems whose lyrics are perfectly appropriate for a down-to-the-wire scenario like the one described above:

Here I Come (The Roots): The music is more powerful than anything G&R ever did, and when 16,000 people are swaggering along with the band chanting, “You better come out with your hands up, we got you surrounded...You boys get ready, Cause here I come”, opposing teams will be ignoring their coach's urgent instruction as they scan the arena and think, “Shit, I'm not sure I want to see what happens when this crowd's team loses.”

Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want (The Smiths): True, Johnny Marr is no Slash (and vice versa), but Morrissey's poignant lyric is the perfect accompaniment to the final minute of a game where the underdog home team is inexplicably ahead with under two minutes to go.

Even the Losers (Tom Petty): Hearing “Welcome to the Jungle” play at a Minnesota Timberwolves game sounds as incongruent as hearing American Idol's Sanjaya say, “I'm gonna kick your #&%@ ass.” But this song, featuring Petty's heartfelt defiance of probability, "Baby, even the losers get lucky sometimes", might actually cause the visiting team to pause: “Damn, it's true, losers do get lucky sometimes---is tonight one of those nights?”

Excuse Me While I Break My Own Heart (Whiskeytown): I grew up a Red Sox fan, and was thus ingrained with the expectation that my team would find a way to lose before the opponent found a way to win. (I witnessed Bill Buckner's infamous flub in real-time, and while it felt like a stab in the heart, we all sensed one knife or another was coming, we simply didn't know who would wield it.) I've been a Portland Trailblazer fan for the last dozen years, and there have been a few years in that decade-plus when my training as a Red Sox fan came in handy. Sure, this song is unlikely to inspire fist-pumping, but sometimes, what's needed isn't dubious inspiration but a reality check, an opportunity to prepare for the inevitable. Ryan Adams' fabulous song would be the perfect antidote to inappropriate optimism.

I'll be watching, and hopefully, venues across America will heed my advice, because let's face it, there's been nothing junglesque about the Key Arena when the Sonics have played home games this year. (But Seattle fans take heart, championship droughts rarely last longer than 86 years.)(Except for Cubs fans.)