By Clint McElroy
HQ 71 | AUTUMN 2010
I am no doubt violating some “Columnist Rule of Thumb” here, but I want to address this Last Laugh column to a specific age group, that of my sons’ generation – let’s say 18-year-olds to 30-year-olds.
Admit it, kids, it’s happened to you: Your family is driving down the highway. You’re in the backseat, and Mom and Dad are in the front. All of a sudden, one of them cranks up the radio to 150 decibels or so, and they both sing at the top of their lungs, “Looks like we’re NAKED!”
Actually, the words are “Looks like we made it,” from a song of the very same name by Barry Manilow. But it illustrates my point, that your generation knows song lyrics much better than mine. We stink. Here are some actual flummoxed lyrics that have been sung in my presence:
- In a car on the way to Myrtle Beach for a vacation: “Scare a moose! Scare a moose! Will you do my fat ankles?” (“Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the fandango,” from Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody.)
- In a car driving to Morehead for a football game: “My eyes of Georgia.” (My Eyes Adored You by Frankie Valli.)
- In a car driving to the Trail Drive-In, where we planned on sneaking a trunkful of guys in to see movies we were too young for: “And as the winos owned the road!” (“And as we wind on down the road,” from Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven.)
I have figured out why your generation knows lyrics better than mine, why chronic lyricosis (the debilitating disease wherein an individual consistently misinterprets song lyrics) may perhaps be a thing of the past. It is a three-part theory.
- Earbuds: Did you notice that all three of those examples of mangled lyrics started with the phrase “in a car?” That’s the only decent place we had to listen to music. It’s true that we had stereos and record players and hideous eight-track players that looked like those boxes with plungers they use to detonate dynamite. But trust me, it was impossible to play music with any volume. If you tried, you were treated to your old man bellowing from the Rumpus Room, “Hey! You want to turn that garbage down? I’m trying to watch Lawrence Welk here!” Now you have these nifty little ear buds that can be inserted into your auditory canals so you can blast your iPod directly into your brain with distinct lyric clarity.
- Websites: When we were your age, computers were named Univac or Hal and were the size of a modest living room. Today, you just sign on to the worldwide super Internet highway, Google a song lyric and, schwing, there it is on your laptop. There’s even an app on your smart phone that allows you to hold the phone up while a song is playing and then just wait for your phone to tell you the song title.
- Karaoke: We had karaoke in our day, sort of. We called it Sing Along With Mitch. The late bandleader Mitch Miller conducted a bunch of singers, while the song lyrics flashed along the bottom of a screen. Unfortunately, Mitch wasn’t the hippest guy around, and the songs were usually along the lines of In the Good Old Summertime and Bicycle Built For Two. Give your folks a little credit; we’re old, but we’re not mummies. Then came karaoke! In the ’80s it was the exclusive domain of drunk Japanese businessmen, but in the ’90s, drunk American businessmen also started doing it. Now it has been embraced by drunk people of all ages, and your generation has rushed to it with abandon. You get up in front of your buddies, sing your favorite songs and the lyrics are presented to you on a screen. They are burned right into your brain.
So go ahead and gloat. You deserve it. You guys absolutely spank us in the lyrics department.
However, I would like to point out that we invented the music you listen to. Rock ‘n’ roll? We created that. R&B? Ours. Soul? Oh yeah, we came up with that, too.
So, kids, the next time you jam those buds in your ears, crank your iPod to 150 decibels and sing along with the cast of Glee to Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing, I want you to remember these two words from your parents: “You’re welcome.”
And the adventure continues …
