This has the honour, through alphabetisation, of being the first, therefore the easiest, therefore the most often played song on Rebekah’s ipod. Most of the songs on there are on there because of me and my attempt to approximate and load it with songs she might like, and this is very much one of them. She likes it ok. Together, in her car, she’s admitted it.
I’ve never had Janeane Garofalo in mind when listening to this song, as many seem to. So, save for a shift in age of the protagonist to one closer to fourteen or maybe even thirteen and this attraction directed with all innocence of adolescent crush, i’m left with a creepy song about paedophilic (or ephebophilic or hebephilic if you need to make that distinction. I hate the internet) desire, i think. I hope not, but its probably so. I realise that its entirely fiction, but i hate this kind of fiction: Attempts to be compelling through shock, through controversy, subverting the pop song (or whatever the tool) to expose mankind’s dark, cruel underneath for what it really is.
I’m off base here. I love this song. It’s such a sweet song that i’ll try with all heart, leniency and delusion to preserve it from as much sleaziness and discolour that could be levelled against it. This is Peter Bagge of Hate fame and Eric Reynolds’ band, comic book fans. It must be nice to be a band full of comic book artists and never being at a loss of what to do when the question of record sleeve art arises.
Adding Machine 