WTF?

WTF indeed! We stand for Films, Tunes, and Whatever else we feel like (not necessarily in order!) Professor Nonsense heads the 'Whatever' department, posting ramblings ranging from the decrepit, to the offbeat, to the just plain absurd! The mysterious Randor takes helm of the 'Tunes' front, detailing the various melodic messages he gets in earfuls. Weekly recommendations and various musings follow his shadows. Finally, our veteran movie critic, Lt Archie Hicox, commands the 'Film' battlefield, giving war-weathered reviews on flicks the way he sees them. Through the eyes of a well-versed renegade, he stands down for no man! Together we are (W)hatever(T)unes(F)ilms!

Feel free to comment with your ideas, qualms, and responses, or e-mail them to RandorWTF@Hotmail.com!

Feb 21, 2012

Randor's Song of the Week: 02.19.12

Seven Little Girls Sitting in the Back Seat / Worshipping an Idol
"Seven Little Girls Sitting in the Back Seat" by Paul Evans and the Curls from the album Seven Little Girls Sitting in the Back Seat / Worshipping an Idol. 1959.

    The ultimate song of cuckoldry. Not exactly the most desirable claim to fame. Perhaps most surprising is that a song from the 50s earns the title. I don't think any song recorded since comes close to the level of humiliation and emasculation described, though "Venus in Furs" (by the Velvet Underground, chump!) comes close with its springboard off the book (which would certainly win out the competition, if only 'twas in song form). Some would say I've gone too far with the claim, what with the tune's sugary sweet sound feigning some sort of innocence. Don't be fooled, I reply! The Velvet Underground may ace the proper ambiance, but I say Paul Evans went too far when he put not one- not two- but SEVEN little girls in the backseat, kissing and a-huggin' with Fred. Ignoring the 'little' descriptor for you literalists, keep in mind that minivans (not yet a family standard in the song's era) evoke the seven-passenger image-- with one up front! So basically, our sad narrator chauffeurs an orgy around the town in a wheeled sardine-can with every feeble attempt to quit or join rebuffed by the girls themselves. Not even Jon Arbuckle puts up with that kinda embarrassment!

    The song is a back-and-forth where Mr. Evans sings the verses against the Curls' chorus (who represent the seven girls). Much of the story one has to deduce, for no explanition is given about how Fred relates to the driver or how seven chicks all piled onto him. As I see it, Fred and the driver pal around jonesing for some lady-friends, but Fred just blows his buddy out of the romance water. Wingman Fred, being such a good friend, says "baby, you can drive my car!" (though he certainly doesn't own it) and down the road they go with eight in the back and no one riding shotgun. Trying to keep his hand in the game, he invites the ladies to sit up beside him and talk about his triple carburetor (winkwink, say no more!), but they shoot him down at every turn: "Keep your mind on your driving; keep your hands on the wheel! Keep your snoopy eyes on the road ahead! We're having fun sitting in the backseat kissing and a-huggin' with Fred!" When he finally decides he's had enough of the whole scene he timidly proposes to go home BUT cowers out when they repeat their bit. Fred doesn't seem to make a comment one way or another, but with seven ladies speaking for his sins, why would he? In any case, the song ends with our helpless driver stating dejectedly "Wish that I could be like Fred..."
    As long as you never find yourself in the singer's shoes, the song is quite fun. It brings to mind those awkward bromance comedies where you can only shake your head at the poor protagonist's self-depreciating actions. Obviously, "Seven Little Girls" takes it to an extreme, but the absurdity of the situation makes the humor so appealing here. Yah, people have this tendency to laugh at the misfortune of others, especially strangers. Any person who puts themselves into the situation described in the song, though, surely deserves the humiliating treatment. Fictional character or no. Besides, if it weren't for the off-color lyrics, the tune might as well be a radio jingle! Simple... Cheesy... Catchy... I wouldn't call the singers bad per say, but their voices fall well short of spectacular, especially the pitch of the Curls. I wouldn't have it any other way though, for it only adds to the aforementioned absurdity of the whole thing. In fact, the thought struck me for an ideal response song: "Fuck You" by Cee-Lo Green. Maybe the lyrics don't line up perfectly, but the attitude and atmosphere sure do- assuming of course our cuckolded friend can grow a backbone.
    Final tidbit: would you believe this song hit #1? No? Good, because it didn't. Just #9. Different times, eh?

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