Fucking Women and Their Shitty Fucking Music
I know, I know, there are plenty of women who visit this site with absolutely excellent taste in music. And some of the best music blogs out there are written by women. But the title of this post is not to criticise all women, it is aimed at a very particular sort whose relationship with music makes me want to set fire to cute little bunny rabbits, and in particular a song that, no matter how incognito they try and remain, always roots the old boots out in any situation.
Specifically, it’s women whose response to ‘that song is fucking dreadful and makes me want to burst my eardrums with knitting needles’ is invariably ‘oh don’t be so boooring’. Or ‘just relax and have fun’. Or something equally deserving of punishment by breast cancer. ‘Having a good cry, sweetheart? Chemo getting you down? Fuck’s sake cheer up – don’t be so boooring.’ Just relaxing and having fun is not an option when this shitty Radio 1 Party Mix is playing. No amount of relaxation, even to the point of a coma, is going to be sufficient to not fucking detest Dancing in the Moonlight by that curly-headed cunt and his baldy-dwarf-shagging cohorts.
Why so bitter about this in particular? Well there is a very specific reason. Firstly, the ‘don’t be so boooring’ defense has irked me since school. People always used to respond with this stinker when you didn’t want to dance, and they had things completely fucking backwards. Having a pleasant conversation with one’s friends is not boring. What is boring is spastically hopping about to some fucking woeful Glenn Medeiros number in a desperate attempt to assert your social conformity. How the fuck is choosing not to do something I don’t particularly enjoy boring, you silly tart? And why is it always, always the most unimaginative, lifeless, one-dimensional, ultra-conventional dullards who use this particular gambit? Sometimes I like to dance, sometimes I don’t. Go. The Fuck. Away.
But more specifically this is about that one song: Dancing in the cunting Moonlight. Unspeakably awful it is in the first place, but the sort of vapid, bovine old slappers who embraced the bloody thing back in about 2001 or whenever it was made it even worse. You’d be in a bar and that teeth-grindingly awful intro would play: doodn-do-DO-DO-DOO! and whilst you tried to find a door in which to slam your penis in hope that the pain might distract you from the song, invariably the most depressing, largely unattractive, not as young as they pretend they still are, slightly overweight old heifers in the place would give an incoherent little shriek of delight and start, in the unusually large herds in which they tended to move, doing that little epileptic black woman’s Jerry Springer head movement, whilst stepping back and forth in the exaggerated style that is meant to say to everyone ‘Yeah, I can move.. yeah, I’m out with my friends… yeah, I’ve actually got friends, despite what you may think… yeah, in my herd I can gain some tiny measure of fucking self-esteem back from my completely unstimulating existence and comfort myself with the fact that however much I disappoint myself my friends are all equally mediocre and in this dismal company I don’t feel quite as inadequate as I do when I compare myself with the rest of the world. Yeah!’
‘Oh can’t you just relaaax and enjoy yourself. Don’t be so boooring.’
‘Do not tell me to FUCKING RELAX! No amount of fucking relaxation can make this festering, white-boy cod-soul by one of the most punchable cockmonkeys on the fucking planet anything less than three minutes of brain-melting, utterly inhumane mental fucking anguish. Boring? BORING? If your capacity to appreciate art is so FUCKING STILLBORN that you are capable of anything other than pathological loathing for this steaming, god-punishing excrement then it is very much not myself who needs to fucking well consider whether or not they might be a little boring.’
The depth of the bile represents the hatred of the song, I hope, rather than any particular misanthropy on my part. *Cough cough*
Anyway, can you imagine my horror when, at my housewarming party in Cambridge, I heard that unspeakable doodn-do-DO-DO-DOO! emanating from my fucking stereo and all the spastics started to twitch so immediately that I couldn’t even turn it off, although I did consider jamming one of their kids’ fingers in an electrical socket – power failure or poignant punishment: a win-win situation really. Not only that but one of these tired old mares even had the temerity to say, on hearing this aural abomination in a pub six months later: “I’ll always associate this song with your lovely housewarming party”. Is there a statement in the world more likely to drive me to suicide? Or spontaneous combustion? I doubt it. That fucking song. My House. Please god, no!
I hate that fucking song. Can you tell?
The music I do associate with that house would be far more along these sorts of lines:
Howe Gelb – Pontiac Slipsteam
The Pernice Brothers – Our Time Has Passed So Quickly
Badly Drawn Boy – Stone on the Water I don’t care how shit the rest of it’s been, this is still a good album.
Doves – Here it Comes
Grandaddy – Miner at the Dial-A-View
Lambchop – Nashville Parent
but they do have such a good name, though!
Toploader.
Toploader.
Toploader.
Toploader.
Toploader
TOPLOADER.
TOPLOADER
TOPLOADER
Even though it’s so cool & street ‘cos its all about being a greedy so & so (titter) when bias-rolling a joint ready for your first hit pre-passing on, it always reminds me of big fat gallumphing tits. Perfectly suited to those fraggle-faced cunts.
Here’re the lyrics just in case you are unsure of how the rest of the song goes, Toad:
We get it on most every night
when that moon is big and bright
its a supernatural delight
everybodys dancing in the moonlight
we get
everybody here is out of sight
they dont bark and they dont bite
they keep things loose they keep it tight
everybodys dancing in the moonlight
dancing in the moonlight
everybodys feeling warm and bright
its such a fine and natural sight
everybodys dancing in the moonlight
we like our fun and we never fight
you cant dance and stay uptight
its a supernatural delight
everybody was dancing in the moonlight
dancing in the moonlight
everybodys feeling warm and bright
its such a fine and natural sight
everybodys dancing in the moonlight
we get in on most every night
and when that moon is big and bright
its a supernatural delight
everybodys dancing in the moonlight
dancing in the moonlight
everybodys feeling warm and bright
its such a fine and natural sight
everybodys dancing in the moonlight
[repeat and fade]
Ahhh…. Summer…
And now to distill what I took from this post:
Fuck yeah, doves!
lol.
Quite impressively vitriolic, I’m jealous, I think.
Another fab post. Doves must surely be due to deliver another album soon. I still think Badly Drawn Boy’s About a boy OST was good, though, and the other LPs have had their moments. Funny to think Doves were once his backing band…
A joyous rant, indeed. I’m jealous, too. I think.
Oh, and I heard Giant Sand has a new album coming out in September. Good times! Or, some sort of times anyway…
Aaaah. I’ve been immersed in annoying workaday nonsense for a week or so, growing more and more irritable with each passing day at being unable to satisfy my Toadfix. But then the skies cleared just a bit and I tune back in to find…such beauty. Such hate. I am home. Now where the fuck is Alela?
So I think it would be safe to say that you don’t like this song? ‘It’s such a fine and natural sight’…who could not respond to such poetry?
Begs the question, really. It has never ceased to amaze me that a band who would come out with aural diarrhoea like this would take their name from a drug-taking method. So cynical. So effete. So…yeah, you’re right. The women who like this are the ones who buy an album just for one track, and loudly proclaim in the middle of the dancefloor that they don’t have any money, but they just need to get to Club Knobjuice tonight, where they knock back Bacardi Breezers like they are going out of fashion before telling you that your suit comes from Man At C&A.
Thanks for this brilliant post, Toad.
I actually feared for a second that this might be a little controversial. Not so apparently. Toploader is short for cock-smoker in every fucking language under the sun it seems.
Your blog never fails to warm those hard-to-reach places of my soul.
I really should write a similarly misandrist post now, so the ladies don’t think I hate them!
C&B – Toadfix sounds like a character from the Asterix books. There was definitely a Codfix once I think, in Asterix & the Great Divide.
you know that dancing in the moonlight was a cover version, right?
I do vaguely remember hearing the original once, years ago, now you mention it. But I do confess I had forgotten about that.
Does that make it worse or better?
We used to call it “Dancing In Your Own Shite”.
(the royal ‘we’, obviously).
I love Bart.
No you don’t, you are just dazzled by his luxuriant ginger beard.
Did you know he was in every band in Edinburgh?
All I can say (other than that the song would have to suck in order to be better) is that “Afternoon Delight” is far worse.
every good band in edinburgh..
Afternoon Delight also makes kittens cry. Dreadful song.
They pressed the vinyl from satan’s own ejaculate for that one.
“I’ll always associate this song with your lovely housewarming party”
oh my. oh my, my. it’s going to take a lot of gin to get over that one, isn’t it? if she only knew the damage she was doing with that seemingly innocuous remark . . .
You prolly know about this already, but if you don’t it oughta cheer you up you old cunt: (1) Tom Waits is playing Edinburgh , apparently, in the European leg of his current stuttering about the place tour, & only Edinburgh. Twice, even. & nowhere else in UK (except over t’water in Dublin). So I’ve been told. £75-£95 a pop per ticket. Playhouse, July 27th + 28th. If I’m in the country, do you fancy it & perhaps also making some room on your floor for two little ones?
&, you might like this new site: http://www.tom-waits.tv – it’s aim is to post every single videoed appearance of TW that there ever was. Tall order, but there’s soe fucking choice clips on there. Also, go to the sudio section & there’s some amazing concert boots, but the older ones are brilliant.
Love the vitriol, Matthew, but, in my experience, there’s just as many blokes out there waiting for their next fix of Travis or Coldplay or Dido etc in order to update their dinner party mixes. Or perhaps its just the company I keep *blush* Just need to get over the fact that there’s loadsa people out there who listen to music that’s made for people who hate music.
Oh absolutely. This post is just begging for a male-baiting counter-post really isn’t it! Hmm, must get working on that one, or perhaps Mrs. Toad could help.
I feel like I’ve just been ran over.
What, you’re not one of that sort are you? You don’t secret crave a bit of Dancing in the Moonlight action do you? Say it ain’t so, Hannah!
When I grow up I want to be able to rant like you, Mr Toad. One of the best things I’ve read in ages. Many thanks.
I think the key to ranting like me is actually not growing up, I’m afraid. But good luck to you – let the bile flow, with sprinkles on top!
I usually keep quiet from the other side of the pond. I do. But I want to correct some inaccuracies here. First, my darling brother in law might remember – but probably doesn’t, as he and his brother had each polished off a bottle of Plymouth at this point – that Dancing in the Moonlight was the final song at our wedding. But that’s ok, you don’t have to like it. What you do have to recognize is that in 2000, your sorry excuse for countrymen, er, I mean, Toploader, went and remade one of the greatest songs from 1973 – “Dancing in the Moonlight” by King Harvest. This is NOT a Toploader original and I would encourage you all to do your research before your rants. Piss on Toploader. Not the song. And I’m done.
Yes, I think we’ve established that it’s a cover. But seeing as the original is never played ever, it’s difficult for it to be even a fraction as annoying as this version. Never mind the cover, never mind what a fanny the chief Toploader is, even if those two were equal the mere fact that I have heard the original maybe twice in my whole life makes it almost impossible that I could hate it as much as this painful, gut-wrenchingly aggravating version.
A wedding band playing Dancing in the Moonlight, how appropriate. Ours played Better Off Without a Wife.
Quality vitriol. Keep it up.
Toploader is a type of automatic washing machine, right?
Largely superceded nowadays by the frontloader.
Toploader has probably been superceded by taking a cheese grater to your foreskin, in terms of capacity to cause unimaginable pain and suffering.
And here was me thinking that I hated this song more than anyone else on the planet…..
I’ve just read ‘Kill Your Friends’ by John Niven while on holiday – a fantastic satire of the music industry that could be a book-long version of a Toad rant, only from the perspective that bands like Toploader should reign supreme. An extract:-
“With the indie kids you have to remember this: they really think that what they do matters in some way. They reckon that history will care. (They dont know that history will have other shit to be getting on with). The indie kids figure that they’re passing on the torch or some fucking thing. That. just as they were influenced by someone – the Velvet Underground, Jonathan Richman, the Stooges, whoever – then, in the future, young bands will be influenced by them. Maybe so. Maybe a few thousand malnourished cockless freaks scattered around the globe will give a shit. So what? Real people don’t care do they? Real people put stone cladding and UPVC double-glazing on their council houses, they buy four albums a year and they want to be able to hear all the words. And there’s fucking billions of them.”
Go buy. And dont be ashamed to laugh out loud at the most un-PC book I’ve had the pleasure of reading in years…
[...] folks, it’s Mrs. Toad. Apparently my ramble about Toploader didn’t go down all that well in certain circles. She’s not disputing the Toploader hatred of [...]
This post is just awesome. Here (Italy) it’s now the song for one commercial, I’m so “lucky” that I get to hear it tons of times every day and I sometimes wish I was deaf