Bullsh*t! The Songwriter's Edition

Songs are emotional. They are sometimes abstract and there is a beauty in that. Hell, you can't be a fan of REM without unplugging a few logic circuits (See: Swan, swan, hummingbird; Hurrah, we are all free now; What noisy cats are we; Girl and dog he bore his cross; A long, low time ago, people talk to me...cryptic, yet beautiful).

But there comes a point when some singer/songwriters ask too much of a listener's credibility. And I say "singer/songwriters" for a reason: They are the biggest generators of bullsh*t going in the recording industry, in my opinion. See my analysis of Exhibit A below.

Sometimes When We Touch - Dan Hill

Dan's words will be in purple, appropriately so. I will respond as if the song were written to me, because, well, why not?

You ask me if I love you
And I choke on my reply

Ok, so you don't love me. I get it. Why the heck are you writing a love song to me? And seriously, if you want to be honest about this, you ought to work on not choking on your replies...but I get ahead of myself.

I'd rather hurt you honestly
Than mislead you with a lie

Oh, pulease. So, you don't "love" me, and saying as much would hurt, but that hurt would be cancelled out because it's "honest." Gotcha. So you're some kind of hero for not misleading me with a lie, but you can't actually say you don't love me because that would hurt me and cut off access to the "holding" you are about to mention. Therefore, by saying nothing, you are actually lying by omission. Way to go, pussy.

And who am I to judge you
On what you say or do?

Indeed. Who are you to judge? You are no Simon Cowell. He would at least be straight with me.

I'm only just beginning to see the real you

I'm guessing you think I'm a bitch.

And sometimes when we touch
The honesty's too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide

So you like it when we touch, but your inner dishonesty is causing you to fry like Voldemort when he touches Harry. Closing your eyes lets you enjoy the touch without feeling the burn of your own hypocrisy.

I wanna hold you til I die
Til we both break down and cry
I wanna hold you till the fear in me subsides

Well, which comes first? Your death? Our simultaneous lacrimation? Or you become less of a pussy? I think the likeliest first is: "your death."

Romance and all its strategy
Leaves me battling with my pride
But through the insecurity
Some tenderness survives

So you hate all the games, but there is a small part of you that doesn't want to kill me.

I'm just another writer
Still trapped within my truth

Oh, gag me. Trapped within your truth?!? You're a liar! But you are trapped because you don't love me, right? That's your truth. But you still want to fuck me? Ah, an age old dilemma. Poor you.

A hesitant prize fighter
Still trapped within my youth

Don't flatter yourself, Joe. Prize fighters aren't hesitant, by the way. And being trapped in youth means, you don't want to grow up. Duh.

And sometimes when we touch
The honesty's too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I wanna hold you til I die
Til we both break down and cry
I wanna hold you till the fear in me subsides

At times I'd like to break you
And drive you to your knees

Wow...way to woo. You hate me! You really do hate me.

At times I'd like to break through
And hold you endlessly

Don't do me any favors, Jack. If I've got something to break through, it's only to keep pussy hesitant prize fighters from messing with my head.

At times I understand you
And I know how hard you've tried
I've watched while love commands you
And I've watched love pass you by

Stop stalking me. You don't understand me. Come one step closer and you're involation of the restraining order.

At times I think we're drifters

Actually, you're the drifter, as evidenced by the cockamaymee internal dialogue you are maintaining at all times...and the stench of Olde English.

Still searching for a friend
A brother or a sister
But then the passion flares again

Um...ew.

And sometimes when we touch
The honesty's too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I wanna hold you til I die
Til we both break down and cry
I wanna hold you till the fear in me subsides

Hello, police? Yes, there's a weird man howling up at my window. Could you come and throw the book at him please? Yes my addres is...

Why are singer/songwriters full of such crap? Is it just because this song was written in the seventies? Does the layer of armchair psychology take a song like "Why don't We Get Drunk and Screw" and intellectuallize them? It's crap. I'd prefer the honesty of WDWGDAS to the angst of this phony, hot steaming turd of a song. Or am I just cynical?

In my opinion, if you want a real love song, click here.