KT’s Hatesong: Iggy Azalea and Rita Ora, “Black Widow”

Welcome to KT’s Hatesong, where I basically just explain why I hate a song. It’s that simple. It’s right in the title. This week, I’ll be dissecting the steaming pile of shit that is “Black Widow” by Iggy Azalea ft Rita Ora.

Let’s start off with how terrible the entire idea of Iggy Azalea is. She’s worse than a gallon of baby spiders. I am certainly not the first to bring up the idea that she’s a blonde, white Australian girl who is totally using cultural appropriation to make her millions. I think every single hatesong I’ve had so far has involved some level of white people making vanilla versions of traditionally non-Caucasian music.

In case you’re not super familiar with cultural appropriation, Slate writer Brittney Cooper has an amazing definition in her article on Iggy Azalea’s culture co-option:

Appropriation is taking something that doesn’t belong to you and wasn’t made for you, that is not endemic to your experience, that is not necessary for your survival and using it to sound cool and make money.

And this is what Iggy Azalea is all about. Worse, even, is her blatant offensiveness in doing it. She’s a terrible person. She spouts racist lines like “I’m a runaway slave…master.” She has a habit of tweeting awful things like this:

charming.

charming.

and this:

wow.

wow.

But she’s still famous, even though she’s kind of the worst person in the entire world. She can play at minority fantasies in her videos, but say racist-ass shit on her twitter and in her songs. Ugh. I can’t.

Anyway, here’s why I hate, in particular, Black Widow. First of all, the video is awful. Like unnecessarily awful. There’s like a two minute long segment of her being a waitress with a shitty boss, and then it goes to a bad re-enactment of a Kill Bill scene.

Also, titties.

Also, titties.

Oh, and now there’s poker, and kicking! And a terribly done shot of Iggy and Rita on motorcycles.

Someone, in 2014, got paid to make this. I hate my life.

Someone, in 2014, got paid to make this. I hate my life.

The lyrics are the worst. Basically, she’s playing up the mysogynist-as-shit “bitches be crazy” trope. Everyone loves a peppy, upbeat song about being massively unhinged!

I’m gonna love ya
Until you hate me
And I’m gonna show ya
What’s really crazy

Oh hooray! This is not frightening at all. Thanks for portraying women as emotionally unstable, Iggy. Awesome job doing whatever the fuck it is you’re doing.

I can’t even continue about how it’s a bad song and Iggy is bad. You get the picture. The only redeeming quality is that now I know who Rita Ora is (Rihanna, right? She’s the same person as Rihanna?). And that’s it. Iggy keeps coming out with these songs, and people keep listening. I think my head is going to explode.

I swear, there is pop music I like. Just not Iggy Azalea.

Fuck this shit, I’m out.

KT’s Hatesong: Meghan Trainor’s “All About That Bass”

I’m back with another edition of “Songs KT Hates that will be stuck in everyone’s godforsaken head all week.” This week, we’ve got one that might be divisive: Meghan Trainor’s “All About That Bass.”

I have to admit the first time I heard it, I didn’t immediately want to fling myself out of my car into oncoming traffic. It’s an insipid and annoying song, but a little catchy. I am a certified not-skinny person, and hooray, a sorta catchy song about girls with chub! Except, no.

First of all, I kind of thought this girl might be a robot for the entire video.

But then I watched again, and I guess she’s most likely human. She looks like an amalgam of all the people who bullied me in high school, right down to the doe-eyes, blonde hair, and weird Easterish dress. The video is inexplicably pastel and made to look like she’s maybe like thirteen or something (a very pink bedroom with a bright pink four-poster bed and a dollhouse?), but apparently she is 20. It doesn’t sit right with me that she’s got lyrics about dudes holding her booty at night, and then it’s all dollhouses and little girl bedrooms. Just me? Maybe it’s just me, but something freaked my brain stem out about this. I guess she’s from Nantucket, where bedrooms probably actually look like this (also they include a yacht and a pony, not pictured).

Not weird at all, totes normal.

Not weird at all, totes normal.

 

But here’s the first rub: Meghan Trainor isn’t fat. If she’s fat, I’m a fucking tubwhale. She may not be thin, but she isn’t even noticeably overweight. She’s what I’d consider “normal.” And that’s where it starts getting disingenuous. I said starts. Buckle the fuck up and let’s discuss.

So first off, she’s not fat. So what we’re initially given the impression of, is that media and body issues with women are at the level that a person at a normal weight has to assert that she is still just as good as someone underweight. What the fuck does this impress into the minds of real, actual overweight girls who are struggling already?

Next up we have the weird appealing-to-boys side of the lyrics. The song screams “I have what boys want.” Who the fuck cares what boys want? Why is she so desperate to appeal to boys? As Feministing wrote about this very song, “…loving yourself because dudes like what you’ve got going on is a pretty flimsy form of self-acceptance. In fact, it’s not really self-acceptance at all if it depends on other people thinking you’re hot.”

Let’s face it, the lyrics aren’t fucking body-positive at all. Telling girls they’re “perfect from the bottom to the top” and two goddamn seconds later shitting on “skinny bitches”? That’s grade-A bullshit, right there. You know that e-cards quote going around, “you can tell who the strong women are, because they’re building others up instead of tearing them down” or whatever someone like Ghandi or Abe Lincoln said? That applies here. The fact that this song can’t go without commenting on other women’s bodies to make its point? This song can go fuck itself. This isn’t what your girls should be listening to. At all.

And that’s the problem: this song is making money hand over fist because people are lining up to clamor over how positive this song is! Look, she tells us we’re perfect! No, she’s selling herself and exploiting the body image discussion for financial gain.

I don’t think I even have the strength to discuss the cultural appropriation, either. The CBC can do that for you.  “I have a Trinidadian uncle by marriage, so i’m going to appropriate an entire culture’s music and make it palatable to white people!” UGHHHHHHH.

I’m not the first one to get the douche chills from this song. I won’t be the last.

Fuck this shit, I’m out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KT’s Pop Song Review: “Rude” by Magic!

Hey Clamsketeers, I’m here with a new column. Every couple weeks, or when the mood strikes me (we’re not the scheduling type here at the Gloucester Clam), I’ll do a review of whatever pop song I hate the most at that time. Now, I don’t hate all pop music by a long shot, but some of it just sucks major taint.

“Rude” by MAGIC!

 

Right out the gate, I hate this song. I have hated it since I first heard it probably driving my kids somewhere fun while they complained heartily. First of all, MAGIC! bills themselves as “Canadian Reggae Fusion,” which is literally the worst phrase I have ever heard, right behind “Vaginal Trans Mesh.” I am not a big reggae fan, first of all. Sorry (I am not sorry). But a Canadian white bro group offering up a “fusion” of reggae? Oh my god, I need a moment to compose myself here so I don’t start screaming “WHY DO WE LOVE WEIRD CULTURAL APPROPRIATION!” at the kitchen walls. UGH. UGHHH.

I loathe this type of music. It’s the kind of song that 45 year old office managers with crunchy curly hair and pullover sweaters like. It’s the equivalant of soft white bread, in musical form. Listening to it is like stepping in wet cat food. This is literally the least edgy band to ever exist. This is worse than Jason fucking Mraz.

So this video. Of course it starts off with a pretty blonde white girl. OF COURSE IT DOES LOOK HOW SKINNY SHE IS. No one looks this hot ever. Meanwhile the odd-looking fellow fronting the band (I shall imagine his surname is Noseario because look at that thing) drives a 87 Tercel off to ask his pretty blonde white girlfriend’s dad if he can marry her. He is looking like President Business, so this isn’t gonna end well. Oh, he says no, what a surprise.

I DON'T LIKE YOUR FACE OR YOUR STUPID MUSIC

I DON’T LIKE YOUR FACE OR YOUR STUPID MUSIC

And then he’s all “I’m gonna marry her anyway!” THEN WHY DID YOU ASK? WHAT THE FUCK GAME ARE YOU PLAYING HERE SIR? I haaaate the phony asking your hand in marriage bullshit in the first place like any half-assed feminist should. More middle aged white people pandering shit, right there.

Why does this weirdfaced dude keep kicking at the camera? Is this 1996, am I watching a No Doubt video? Stop it. You stop it right now. Stay still. Are you on meth?

OH YOUR SHOES ARE WORN, HOW AUTHENTIC.

OH YOUR SHOES ARE WORN, HOW AUTHENTIC.

There are so many parts of this song that are the worst, but the petulant, whiny tone of “WHY YOU GOTTA BEEE SOO RUUUUDE” is like nails on a chalkboard. Literally worse than when my children make that whine/scream when I turn off Futurama.

And then there’s some wedding scene where the hot blonde chick looks stunning, and this stoner is wearing a red knit touque like an asshole.

The rest of this band looks like dicks, too. What are they wearing? Oh my god I would rather meet a rotting sack of potatoes than this band.

THANKS A LOT, CANADA

THANKS A LOT, CANADA

I don’t ask for much in this world, but if this band could be a one-hit wonder, I would be content with my lot in life. Say yes say yes cuz I need to know.

(I hope you have appreciated this review. If you like how much I hate this song, be sure to let me know, and I will do more. I also hate other songs.)