One of my favorite humor writers is Miami Herald columnist Dave Barry. More than ten years ago, he wrote a piece asking readers to send in their nominatiions for the "Worst Song Ever" in several categories. Barry hoped to get one easy column out of it; instead he got two, which he eventually turned into a book. The book includes sample lyrics for those of us not fortunate enough to have grown up with fifties radio, and offers various theories as to why certain songs drew strong votes.
The overall winner of the survey was MacArthur's Park. Barry posited that the song's win can be attributed not only to its odd metaphorical imagery of a cake left out in the rain, but also due to its having been recorded by both Richard "Dumbledore" Harris and then several years later, disco-style, by Donna Summer.
Now, I'll go on record as loathing Harris' recording and rather liking Summer's performance, so my musical preferences are perhaps questionable, even without all of the Liza Minnelli my computer selects. Although the words are repetitious, there's a dance break in the middle, and the reprises means that the words are easily memorized. On those occasions when the song pops into my head, I can usually come up with the rest of whatever line it is my subconcious wants, and then move on.
A few days ago, Mme. Q posted an entry which referenced Escape (the Pina Colada Song.). It was a passing phrase, but it was enough to tweak the corner of my mind where lyrics are stored. Now, with all appologies to Rupert Holmes, and to those who do know all of the words, this isn't a song I've ever completely memorized. I haven't heard it since April (visiting friends, who played me a live recording of an excellent a cappella arrangement) and probably not for several years before that.
I don't think "Escape" is all that painful a song, but, unlike "MacArthur's Park" the words do not repeat. This is to say that many of the words, but not all of them, repeat. There are reoccuring themes to the words and their order, but not enough - I keep thinking that "yogurt" is mentioned, but having looked up the words on the ever-reliable Internet, I now know that it's "yoga," which I have probably conflated with the actual mention of granola. Correct and incorrect words now form an endless loop in my head, no matter what else I play.
Barry needs to reissue the survey, and include a category for this syndrome. Meanwhile, Mme Q, I will have my revenge. You just wait.
"Another hundred people just got off of the train..."
Words Written: one hundred and six
Lessons Graded: twenty-four