Valerie likes to have a post up every other day, but who wants to write a post every other day? Well, not her, anyway, so here’s what you get today.
I’ve either stumbled upon a disturbing undercurrent in popular culture or I’m connecting dots best left apart. But I believe that growly loverman almost rap that shouldn’t appeal to anyone is a phenomenon that requires special attention.
The first offender is Real McCoy, whose “Another Night” is still a pleasure to bump in the whip, but is marred by the chanting goon they employ to growl “Talk, talk, I talk to you/In the night, in your dream, of love so true” throughout the song with all the seductive power of a droning refrigerator. He sounds identical to the guy who does the ominous “In a world where animals have middle names” voiceovers for movie trailers. It’s fun, but does anyone find these low-talking Eurotrash come ons arousing?
Apparently the fellow from Real McCoy does nothing else but these weird chants in their songs. But if you dismiss him as a one-off unfortunate mutation of Kraftwerk, how do you explain the “Come on Barbie, let’s go party” guy from Aqua’s “Barbie Girl”?
Granted, this song is goofier than it is seductive. Looking at this video, I’m beginning to think the phenomenon has more to do with Metallica fans turned pop than a miscalculation of sex appeal.
But I think there is a non-metal father to this style. Before Dr. Dre made it big with N.W.A., before he invented G-Funk, and before his arms swelled up to the width of his neck, he was a member of a whole crew of low-talking loverman not-exactly-rappers. A World Class Wreckin’ Cru, in fact.
Dre learned the cost of this type of music all too brutally when Eazy-E published his “obitchuary” in the liner notes to It’s On (Dr. Dre) 187-um Killa:
And then I guess there’s this too:
I pray this movement’s time has passed, but if you can think of any other examples, be my guest.