So I got to see Glee live at the O2 in London. Front row! It was A.W.E.S.O.M.E – capitals all the way.
I have since been singing Beyoncé’s ‘Single Ladies’ and have subconsciously imparted the disgusting song on to my 18-month-old daughter, who is becoming rather adept at the “Oh oh oh oh oh oh…” part. I hate myself.
Here’s the thing; Beyoncé’s stupidass song really is stupidass but Kurt’s I’m-gay-and-effeminate-and-totally-fabulous gyrations on Glee (and in the live show) make the song amazing. Amazing then becomes Brilliant when said homosexual teaches the McKinley high football thugs to do a Beyoncé on their opponents during a match – it’s hysteria inducing. The effect of the satire is that the song takes on new connotations that transcend Beyoncé’s ridiculous attempt to get the booties of single ladies a-wagging. At Roller Disco the other night ‘Single Ladies’ came on and I was immersed in the groove for a full three minutes before Embarrassed reared its unforgiving head.
You see, digging ‘Single Ladies’ is a whole lot ‘worse’ for me than it is for other people. I am a metal fan… a defender of the faith! I’m into 80s and can roll with some pop appreciation on the occasion but metal is my thang. It speaks to my soul. So WTF?
Here’s what: music is emotive in essence. It reserves the right to inspire both love and hate in extreme measures. And on rare occasions, it does both at the same time. I hate ‘Single Ladies’ but love it in context.
Judge away small minded compatriots…