This morning around 4 am, suddenly awoken by what I am sure was the past date Long Trail Belgian White I drank, I casually rolled over onto my remote to MTV AM. (Shocking, but MTV does still broadcast music videos. And at 4 am, N Sync serenaded me sweetly with “Pop.”) Do you remember N Sync? I do. I wish I didn’t, though.
This got me thinking. Britney Spears, perhaps the artist who ushered in the recent age of pop music, doesn’t particularly make good music. If you ran my low-alto three note range voice through auto-tune, I wouldn’t sound half bad either. Sex and music have always been tied together (Elvis’ hips. Amen.) But I still want music along with my visual of gyrating.
I like pop music. Much as this ruins my street cred, I adore Lily Allen. When she “retired” from the music business, I was devastated. I love her music and her voice and her unabashed confrontation of issues. Britney “sang” a thinly veiled song about threesomes, but Lily Allen wrote and sang a song called “Fuck You” — literally calling out people on being assholes.
I like my pop to be frothy and fun. And not overly processed. I don’t like auto-tune or want auto-tune. I want it to lift my spirits with its cheerful bounciness. I want to feel good when I plug myself into my iPod, not dirty and processed. (Miley Cyrus? Lollerskates.)
In addition to Lily Allen, my boyfriend got me into Swedish singer Annie. She’s got some processed beats, sure, but you can hear her voice. And it is so undeniably and adorably Swedish. (And I can say this with some authority, as I’m friends with an au pair who is undeniably and adorably Swedish.) Annie lifted my spirits today.
So, for those of you reading this, turn off Britney and Miley and all those Disney tweens. And listen to these: