Heading out to meet a friend at the pub last eve, I flipped through radio stations looking for something decent to warble. Paused when I heard the words
There she was just a-walkin’ down the street/
Singin’ do-wah diddy-diddy dum diddy-do
I don’t know why I didn’t hit the scan button immediately; classic rock tends to suck. Not that it doesn’t have its gems, but I’ve heard the songs so many frakking times I’m sick of them…and I don’t care how many of my high school friends on Facebook know it.
Then it got to the lines
We walked on, walked on/To my door, my door
We walked on to my door/Then we kissed a little more
I knew we were falling in love
Yes I did, and so I told her all the things I’d been dreamin’ of
So, let me get this straight…they met, they walked, they talked, they kissed a bit, they fell in love. Hm.
Cut to 48 years later: modern-day R&B. Rhianna, the Stockholm Syndrome poster girl bringing back the sexy of domestic abuse, sings “Nobody’s Business” with Chris Brown, the same boy who painted her face purple with his dashboard in 2009:
I’ma give you all my affection/Every touch becomes infectious
Let’s make out in this Lexus
C-l-a-s-s-y!
Now, I don’t deny there have always been songs intimating, er…intimacy. Hanky-panky in verse has been alive and kicking since forever. But the presentation used to be different…
Wake Up Little Susie, Everly Brothers:
We’ve both been sound asleep, wake up, little Susie, and weep
The movie’s over, it’s four o’clock, and we’re in trouble deep
Afternoon Delight, Starland Vocal Band:
Thinkin’ of you’s workin’ up my appetite
looking forward to a little afternoon delight
Rubbin’ sticks and stones together makes the sparks ignite
and the thought of rubbin’ you is getting so exciting
A Little Bit More, Dr. Hook:
When your body’s had enough of me/And I’m layin’ flat out on the floor
When you think I’ve loved you all I can/I’m gonna love you a little bit more
and my personal fave,
I Want A Little Sugar In My Bowl, Nina Simone:
I want a little sugar in my bowl/I want a little sweetness down in my soul
I could stand some lovin’/Oh so bad/feel so lonely and I feel so sad
But do you see the difference between those, and Ray J singing:
Then we take it to the bed, then we take it to the floor
Then we chill for a second, then I hit that a** some more
…?
As I continued to think about it, I found myself lamenting the formerly clever and creative depiction of romance in music. I know the desire for it still exists, otherwise Etta James’ At Last wouldn’t have remained a number-one wedding dance song fifty-two years after its first recording. But since that time, what happened to the writers? I mean, Taylor Swift and all of her clones aside? (I’ma not talking about rainbow-hued teen crushes here, I’ma talking about da grown-ups.)
Does the fact we have a dearth of songs about adult relationships that don’t use f*** or a** or references to tapping, banging, boning or booty indicate that culturally, the Love Song is dead, or, at the very least relegated solely to the sphere of insipid, candy-coated, nausea-inducing Top 40 songs for tweens and Twilight Moms?
What do YOU think? Has the Intelligent Romantic Lyric gone the way of the dodo?
Erin's Clishmaclaver 