Mind Your Own God Damn Business

While I was doing homework tonight, I fell asleep while reading about Javanese tribes drinking each other’s blood and eating each other’s hearts.

While I was asleep, I dreamed that I was taking a road trip with my Mom in this old, shitty Ford Fairmont the family used to own. She was driving, I was eating caramel apples.

Eventually, we stopped to take a breather, and for whatever reason, decided to do so on a stranger’s porch. We parked, got out and sat on the steps.

I continued to eat caramel apples.

Then, the owner of the house came out, holding his infant son. It was my friend from 2nd grade, Anthony.

He was completely naked.

My Mom was a little bit weirded out by it, but to reassure her, I said something like “I think that out of the last four times that I’ve seen Anthony, he’s been naked three.” We shook hands, and I think I woke up after that.

It was an interesting dream. The car we were in got scrapped about ten years ago, I don’t think Anthony has a kid, and it’s been something like fifteen years since we’ve hung out, but I’m pretty sure that out of the last four times I’ve seen him, he’s been naked none of them. Actually, I’m roughly one hundred percent positive that I’ve never seen Anthony naked, ever.

Except in my dreams.

Do what you will with that information.

Anyway, an hour later I got the following message on facebook from Anthony:

Have you heard this dope jam? When I heard this dope jam, I thought “this is the kind of dope jam I think [Johnny Castle] would enjoy.” Make sure you listen to (and watch) this dope jam all the way through if you don’t already know it by heart. Worth it, trust me.

Anthony knows more about pop culture than I know about anything, so I trust that man’s opinion on dope jams. I decided to give it a listen.

I decided that I had to do more than that, though. I needed to document what I was hearing, while I was hearing it, so I could let him know my reaction to the song as it was happening, Bill Simmons-style (only far less clever and entertaining). I mean, I owe it to him. Anthony and I share everything. Hell, he’s been naked three of the last four times I’ve hung out with him.

Here’s the video, if you’d like to watch along:

—–

00:06: Initial impressions: I see a bunch of dudes with girl’s skinny jeans, tight black shirts and emo hair.

The band’s name is Attack! Attack!.

One of them has a keyboard.

I am probably going to enjoy this.

00:07: They’re screaming, headbanging and playing their instruments as close to the ground as possible.

I am totally enjoying this.

00:38: He just started singing. I’m a little worried.

00:59: That was a pretty nifty little maneuver they just did with their guitars. I love shit like that.

1:00: They’re rocking twice as hard as they were a few minutes ago, probably to make up for the singing from earlier. They’re bouncing in unison. I’m a sucker for that.

1:18: Now they’re rocking even harder. I have to say: I’ve heard heavier, but I’ve never seen someone play as close to the ground as the guitar player is right now.

1:36: The singer is running in place. It’s unorthodox, but I’ll allow it.

1:46: Synthesizer solo. I’m retarded for those. The vocalist is singing again, but he appears to be using that voice thing T-Pain uses. I would prefer screaming, but this will do.

2:22: They’re still singing. This would totally be better if they were screaming. I’m getting concerned that this is how they’re going to end the song.

2:31: …There we go. The vocalist is screaming again, and the guitar player is back to teabagging the dirt.

2:47: HOLY SHIT THEY’RE RAVING. I did not see that coming. Attack! Attack!, YOU HAVE MY ATTENTION.

3:08: They’re not raving anymore. They’re just singing. Twenty seconds is NOT ENOUGH.

3:20: They’re back to yelling. It’s a hell of a lot better than singing, but I could really go for some more raving right now.

3:34: The song is over.

—–

Let’s do the math: I love hardcore. I love techno anthems. Do I even have to tell you how I feel about this?

It’s certainly not everybody’s cup of tea; in fact, I’m guessing that most of you completely ignored the video once you saw that I said I liked it.

That’s fair. I love trash.

Let me sum up my feelings about this song with a poorly worded, awkward simile:

The first two and a half minutes of this song are like showing up to a family reunion and finding out that you have a hot cousin that’s about your age. You know that even if she was interested, you can’t do anything with her, but at least you have something to stare at while you’re stuck getting drunk with old people that you don’t know. Then, the part when the synthesizer kicks in is  like finding out that she’s actually just a relative’s roommate and not related to you at all, and she thinks directionless 29 year old losers are really hot.

I can already tell that this song will be the soundtrack to a lot of one-man dance parties in my room and the source of a lot of embarrassment when I’m wearing headphones in public.

Thanks, Anthony. I owe you.

But seriously. Put some fucking pants on when you come to the door.