Right, I can hold it in no longer.  I never posted it when it came out, and I have tried most studiously to ignore it ever since, but it seems I am failing, so it has to be said:

That fucking Horchata song by Vampire Weekend is absolutely fucking dreadful.

Is that xylophone I hear?  Yes, I think it might be.  And those fucking drums during the chorus – it’s so cod-ethnic it’s borderline fucking racist.  It sounds like the fucking soundtrack to some sort of soul-crushing Lion King sequel for fuck’s sake.

I mean, we all know they’re fucking posh, but could the subject matter of a song possibly be any more banal and tediously middle class.  And as for rhyming horchata with balaclava, I want to shove that bloody balaclava so far up his fucking arse that it pokes out his fucking mouth and actually makes it impossible to drink any fucking horchata at all.

It is one of the most hatefully squishy, insubstantial, irritating and just downright punchable songs I have ever heard.  Yes, punchable.  If I discovered a manner in which songs could be punched, then Hor-fucking-chata is the very first one upon which I would practise my newfound talent.  I would, to rob a phrase from a friend, punch it until it stopped being fun, which would be never.  Even with bits of brain and teeth starting to splatter about the place, the sheer fun of giving that song an unbelievably good punching just doesn’t seem like a pleasure which would ever grow old.

Mind you, if it ever did I could always skip forward two songs and start punching Holiday instead.

Vampire Weekend – Horchata

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