The Illiterate

Glee Cast
“Sweet Caroline”, #34
“Bust A Move”, #93

The cover of Neil Diamond’s hoary old chestnut does a pretty good job of puncturing Diamond’s self-importance, if only because the singer is incapable of the sort chest thumping fullness of voice that Diamond was born to. But as to whether the joke was intentional or not, I have no idea. As for “Bust A Move”, it’s their most surprising cover yet, but it’s also easy, and stinks of demographic as opposed to satiric or comic intentions. I mean, if they really wanted to play against their white bread atmosphere, why not “Mama Said Knock You Out” or “Fight The Power”?

Adam Lambert—”Time for Miracles”
#50
As ghastly as every other movie soundtrack ballad, only, as befits a movie about the end of the world, even more over-the-top. I would love to know who’s responsible for the string arrangement, which hovers between mindless overkill and stunning self-parody.

Snoop Dogg featuring The-Dream—”Gangsta Luv”
#57
I was expecting this to be another of Snoop’s biennial greats like “Drop It Like It’s Hot” or “Sensual Seduction”. Instead it’s a very ordinary jam from The-Dream (who’s become almost as bereft of ideas as Jermaine Dupri), with Snoop sounding even sleepier than usual. He really doesn’t care, anymore, does he?

Tim McGraw—”Southern Voice”
#61
Another country list song, distinguished only by the weirdness of its choices: the first verse starts naturally enough with Hank Williams, and then moves through Hank’s grandson to Chuck Berry, William Faulkner, Aretha (not from the south, but what the hell), Dolly, and Rosa Parks before ending with Scarlet O’Hara. Although he namechecks “Hickory Wind” he doesn’t mention Graham Parsons by name, and he makes sure to keep his Christian audience on board by mentioning his gold cross and ending the list with Billy Graham. He manages to sneak Pocahantas on there, as well. This may set some sort of record for how many demographics can be genuflected to in a single song.

T-Pain—”Take Your Shirt Off”
#80
I was put off by this at first—I generally prefer my T-Pain more subtle (as subtle as he gets, anyway), and this struck me as a mindless Lil Jon knock-off. Except Lil Jon never managed tracks as frenetic or musically complicated as this, and though he can get ruder he’s isn’t any funnier. Where crunk jumped up and down in place, this motivates forward at high speed, stops and jumps up and down, and then motivates again. As party music it’s just about perfect, and party music seems to be all that anyone wants these days.

Trey Songz featuring Drake—”I Invented Sex”
#90
In overall tone, this follows along in the tradition of “Bed” and “Birthday Sex”, only this is more sophisticated and less funny, and also, to my ears at least, a lot sexier. This version, featuring Drake, tops Drake’s version, featuring Trey Songz. Songz voice has just the right vulnerable, self-effacing quality to get over, whereas Drake sounds a little full of himself, a bit crass. Even on a song as excellent as this, I like him less everytime I hear him.

Carrie Underwood—”Temporary Home”
#92
This is why a lot of people hate country music—sticky and sentimental, with a religious message tacked onto the end that, instead of adding a level of hope, cheapens the suffering of the characters in the song. Come to think of it, this is why a lot of people hate religion, too.

Owl City—”Vanilla Twilight”
#95
If this isn’t the vanishing point that indie infantilism has been moving toward these last few years then I’m Winnie the Pooh and his jar of honey too. “Pour me a cup of atmosphere”, the singer (who’s also the band) whimpers in a voice that would make any intelligent five year old squeamish, and you’ll excuse me for wishing he’d choke on it. And from what I’ve heard, all the indie crowd, when faced with such damning evidence of the hole they’ve been digging themselves the last few years, can come up with in way of defense is “He’s just ripping off The Postal Service.” Exactly.

Darius Rucker—”History In the Making”
#99
I appreciate Rucker because unlike most male country singers he doesn’t waste a lot of time whooping it up and overplaying his love of God and country or treat his voice like some sort of icon whose every shift of timbre and craggy intonation is designed to make women quake in their Daisy Dukes and cowboy boots. He’s just an ordinary guy singing about ordinary things in an at times very ordinary way. He’s nothing to get excited about, but he isn’t an irritant, either. If that sometimes makes him dull, as it does here, then so be it.

Rihanna—”Russian Roulette”
#100
I’m unsure what to make of this record. Even if you assume it’s meant as a metaphor for abusive relationships, on first listen the song is as terrifying as it was no doubt intended to be, metaphor or no. But on repeated listening the effect not only lessens, which is to be expected, but drains away almost completely. The problem, as always, is Rihanna’s voice, which conveys no real feeling or emotion—she barely sounds as if she has a life to lose. That could be part of the point, I suppose, but it creates a distance in the song that becomes impossible to breach and ultimately deprives it of any meaningful impact. And impact, I think, was exactly what she was looking for.