I don’t know how it got it in there. Maybe while my back was turned, perhaps when I was sleeping. But whatever the method, fact is it’s wheedled it’s way in and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do to get it out again. Like a possum in a roof cavity, it’s going to be extremely hard to evict. Sure, like anyone, I remember Salt-N-Pepa’s smash hit from 1992, ‘Shoop’. I just never expected it to show up unannounced all this time later and take up residency between my ears. I am now in the unfortunate position that the lyrics to ‘Shoop’ burst into my thinking when I least expect. It is, at the very least, distracting.
I don’t know how it got it in there. Maybe while my back was turned, perhaps when I was sleeping. But whatever the method, fact is it’s wheedled it’s way in and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do to get it out again. Like a possum in a roof cavity, it’s going to be extremely hard to evict. Sure, like anyone, I remember Salt-N-Pepa’s smash hit from 1992, ‘Shoop’. I just never expected it to show up unannounced all this time later and take up residency between my ears. I am now in the unfortunate position that the lyrics to ‘Shoop’ burst into my thinking when I least expect. It is, at the very least, distracting.
For those who might not remember the song, it’s a joyous celebration of carnality using a term that, technically speaking, might not quite be a double entendre. In the hands of one of rap music’s pioneers, it’s a complete triumph; a bona fide smash hit that found it’s way to the top of the charts in countries all across the world, including this one. For myself, I didn’t buy the single and didn’t own the album. It’s nothing personal; there’s lots of stuff I don’t own. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that I haven’t heard the song in more than twenty years, which makes its reappearance now all the more bewildering.
It’s not the whole tune that’s moved into my brain like an unwanted backpacker. Just the opening line. ‘Here I go, here I go, here I go again. Girls, what’s my weakness? Men!’ Granted, it’s not exactly Shakespeare, but then again old Willy never really produced anything to which you could truly get your groove on. (Try dancing to Macbeth and you’ll see exactly what I mean.) As lyrics go, however, the opening lines of ‘Shoop’ are pretty much genius. Unambiguous and playful, they set up the next three minutes perfectly.
As great as it is as a piece of writing, it’s not the kind of stuff that should burst out of your mouth without due warning. Granted, in the sanctity of your own home, you can sing those lines as loudly as you please. However, the Great Salt-N-Pepa Brain Invasion of 2016 is not limited to my place of residence. It continues wherever I am, including work. Frankly, it’s difficult to explain to colleagues waiting to use the photocopier why it is that you’ve just yelled ‘Girls, what’s my weakness? Men!’ at great volume whilst undertaking a single to double sided copy. Many of them won’t ever have heard of Salt-N-Pepa.
Song lyrics are amazing things. They can seep into your muscles without you even knowing and leap from deep within your subconscious into broad daylight with no warning. It happens to me all the time, and not just with Salt-N-Pepa. In fact, it’s commonplace that a random lyric barges into my mind and takes over for a significant period. Sadly, it’s not just good lyrics that have been known to wander aimlessly from whatever dark shadow in which they have lurked for years without causing any trouble to the very front of my mind.
Truth be told, there have been whole weeks of my life during which selected parts of Melissa Tkautz’s ‘Read My Lips’ have completely dominated my thinking. Even as I have stood, appearing to outside world to be engaged in conversation, I was really recalling Melissa’s famous exultation, ‘If you want to wait til later, hands off my detonator.’ Beyond the mere fact of remembering those words, what’s surprising is the frequency with which they return to me. I dare say that I think about those lyrics more often than Melissa Tkautz does. It’s no secret that in times of crisis, I often recall the words of the song ‘Cock-eyed Optimist’ from the Rogers and Hammerstein musical, South Pacific. Don’t be surprised if, when all around are panicking and losing their collective cool, you see my lips moving to form the words, ‘I’m stuck like a dope with a thing called hope and I can’t get it out of my head!’
Oddly, when travelling on the number 67 tram, I think of the tune that Spiderbait’s Kram once described as the ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ of football songs; Mike Brady’s ‘Up There Cazaly’. It’s the bit where Mike declares ‘Me, I like football, and there’s a lot of things around. But when you line them up together, the footy wins hands down’ that comes to me just as I’m starting to nod off against the window. At least we owned the single. That and Chuck Berry’s ‘My Ding-a-ling’ are the only singles I remember my father bringing home from work. Perhaps I should be grateful that it’s ‘Up There Cazaly’ and not ‘My Ding-a-ling’ I recall.
I don’t resent the fact that Salt-N-Pepa are presently squatting in my mind. My only worry is the space they’ll undoubtedly take up. (Spindarella’s wheels of steel take up more room than you may imagine.) It would be a shame if, for example, I could remember the lyrics to ‘Shoop’ and not my pin number. I doubt my ability to convincingly bring the rhyme would be much assistance to the dumbfounded teenager staffing the checkout as I attempt to purchase groceries using nothing more than my microphone skills. But there’s little point sitting around worrying about something that may never happen. Instead, I think I better Shoop.