PopProse: Let it Rock

16 02 2009

Ok, so I saw this HGTV situation awhile back where a family lived in a house for a few days to see if they wanted to buy it. It was a family of three, and the only child was a 11-ish-year-old boy who needed an extra room for his ‘studio’ because he was an aspiring ‘hip-hop producer.’

Maybe I’ve been watching far too much LOST, but I swear that Kevin Rudolf IS this kid in the future, but NOW. Maybe he got caught in a time-space continuum and grew physically, but not quite in the mental region. Y’know, like Big and Benjamin Button and Daniel Faraday all rolled into one nonsensical individual.

Need proof? Just imagine with me for a moment: the few paragraphs below scribbled onto a napkin (not a bar napkin, of course; more like a floral-print Sparkle paper towel folded into fourths aside a PBJ). Mr. Rudolf’s opus! Ode to partying hearty!

I see your dirty face high behind your collar. What is done in vain? Truth is hard to swallow, so you pray to God to justify the way you live a lie. And you take your time, and you do your crime. Well, you made your bed; I’m in mine, because when I arrive, I’ll bring the fire, make you come alive; I can take you higher! What is this: forgot?! I must now remind you: LET IT ROCK! LET IT ROCK! LET IT ROCK!

Now the son’s disgraced. He who knew his father when he cursed his name turned and chased the dollar. But it broke his heart, so he stuck his middle finger to the world! And you take your time, and you stand in line. Well, you’ll get what’s yours. I got mine!

(Popular friend warbles gratuitous innuendos in the distance)

I wish I could be as cruel as you, and I wish I could say the things you do. But I can’t, and I won’t live a lie! No, not this time.

How else can you explain this? Can it even BE explained?!! Y’know what’s even MORE unexplainable? He has a second single on the radio. I’m just disgusted (I think).


Pop Prose: The Inaugural Post!

11 02 2009

Since my laziness to find a CD to listen to on the commute to and from work and the inability to download music due to current impoverishedness has forced me to listen to the radio for hours each day, I was compelled to reach an epiphany. How would the typical vapid top 40 song read if it were stripped of its hook-filled splendor and written out in sentence form? I present to you below the first in what could be as many as six ‘Pop Prose’ entries.

Let’s see if what Colbie has to say in ‘Realize‘ is coherent when written out like a letter to a romantic hopeful. Of course, to retain any ounce of sense within the song, I omitted chorus/bridge repetitions, and arbitrarily spelled out select contractions.


Take time to realize that your warmth is crashing down on in. Take time to realize that I am on your side. Didn’t I tell you? But I can’t spell it out for you. No, it’s never going to be that simple. No, I can’t spell it out for you! If you just realized what I just realized–that we’d be perfect for each other and we’d never find another–[if you] just realized what I just realized, we’d never have to wonder if we missed out on each other now.

Take time to realize I’m on your side. Didn’t I tell you?! Take time to realize this all could pass you by. Didn’t I tell you? It’s not always the same. No, it’s never the same if you don’t feel it too. If you meet me halfway? If you would meet me halfway, it could be the same for you.

Well shucks, Colbie. Hard to disagree with that killer string of logic. I’m sold! You could even say I realized. Did I tell you? Are you sure? Didn’t I not tell you earlier, maybe? Okay, so I did tell you, right?

Glad that’s settled.