♫ Battlefield ♫ Jordin Sparks ♫

Every once in a while, a song finds me, grabs me, and shakes me till my teeth rattle. I will play said song back to back to back to … well, you get the idea. I basically put it on my iTunes and play it endlessly until the mood passes. I’ve been known to play a song nonstop for five weeks in a row. Scary. I call it musical OCD, and my daughter has it too. If she plays ♫ Shorty is like a melody ♫ in my head ♫ one more time, I’m going to scream.

Meanwhile, my song for the season is Battlefield by Jordin Sparks. According to iTunes, I’ve played it 113 times since I discovered it a few days ago.

I’ve had this song for a while. I recently downloaded about 20 gigs of music from my brother’s hard drive, then largely ignored it. So on Wednesday night, I was looking through my files to empty space for more torrents when I bumped into some Jordin. I’ve always liked Jordin, and Tattoo has previously featured on my OCD list. She has this wholesome thing going, and she has pretty hair and a Janet Jackson smile. No air was cool, and I’ll even forgive One step at a time for being annoyingly peppy. That song is like a cheerleader on a sugar high, and I can’t stop singing it.

I didn’t immediately realise why I liked Battlefield song so much. I gave it some thought after fifty plays, and decided it must be the strings. I LOVE rock, and I’ve noticed that any non-rock song that I like secretly has some subtle stone influence. Apparently, I have in-built affection for steel guitars.

A few minutes ago, I decided to shut my ears and listen to the song, to really listen to it. I thought maybe I could figure out the draw. I was surprised that after 100 listens, I still noticed new bits of music – and I guess that’s why I like it so much. It’s layered. Each playback has more gold to discover.

The song starts with drums, a nice catchy beat that makes you sit up and pay attention. For some reason, it made me think of neon-coloured Spandex, punk haircuts, and MC Hammer.

Next comes some cute piano [yes, piano can be cute] and vocals. I didn’t notice the piano until my eyes were shut. Weird. At the bridge, some deep strings are introduced, and that distracted me for a bit. They have this awesome sliding effect, and after 16 years of academic music studies, I really should know what that effect is called.

Suddenly there’s a chorus and everything just explodes in a rainbow of sound. It feels a bit like that advert where a kid puts some candy in his mouth, and suddenly his head bursts and hair flies everywhere and it’s all animated melodies and things.

The chorus ebbs into the verse two and everything disappears except Jordan, the drums, and the piano. The cycle is repeated, but it’s no less awesome the second time around. Turns out there are background vocals somewhere, and like the piano, I didn’t notice them until my eyes were closed. Now that’s what I call background vocal. They do a nice humming thing, and I like nice humming things.

I don’t know the lyrics of this song. There are few words that slipped into my consciousness, words like I guess you better go and get your armour. But those only snuck in because I’m a total control freak, so I like armour. Also, when she sings it, it sounds more like gecheraama, and that sets off endless fits of giggles.

My brother came by a while ago, and as I was walking him out, I started humming. It was totally subconscious and I didn’t even know I was doing it until he said, ‘You’ve been singing that song for the last five days.’ Oopsie.

So now that I’m done analysing, I’m going to close my eyes for a bit and listen to the words. I suspect it’s a sad song, but I can’t help smiling when I sing the few words that I know, and I’m not really sure why. Depressing songs seem to touch me way deeper than happy ones, and for some reasons, sad songs often make me smile. Yoohoo? Where are you Freud?

Mysterious headphones

I love music. It’s my drug of choice. That and sugar and I’m pretty much in kite status. So when I finally got a radio phone, I was way above Cloud 69. For days I walked around smiling to myself and dancing on the streets as I sang along. Sheer bliss.

The euphoria didn’t last very long, and I soon got used to having music in my ears. I still get excited when my favourite song plays, and I almost gave some guy a heart attack when I came out of the UoN tunnel singing Woohoo. Priceless. Simply priceless.

[Apparently, it’s actually called Song 2 and is a parody on American grunge. Who knew?]

Anyway, my radio phone earphones are pretty basic, and they started to fall apart quite quickly. I need to ask the DR brothers where they got the sweet pairs that I’ve seen them with. But meanwhile, I walked into a few phone shops to find a replacement.

The guy at the first shop said he was out of stock, and the lady at the second shop referred me to  a third shop. This lady asked me what my price range was, saying she had a pair for 300 …?

[The way she said it implied a question mark, so I responded, ‘300 … and …?’]

She went into a nearby stall and took down two pairs. One pair looked generic, but was beautiful and shiny. The second pair was in a plastic packaging … and I should have read the signs when she ripped the plastic and unpacked it. In my head, I could almost hear Lane’s mother screeching, ‘You break, you buy!”

The unpacked earphones were the new-looking type that have these suction-cup-looking devices. They fit right into your ear, taking the music to the source. They were hot! She tested them for me by plugging them into my phone, changing the station to something with […benga…?] and handing me the earphones. They sounded a little ech0-ey, but I figured it’s because the stall was in the corner of some building and there was a lot of noise outside.

The difference between the basic pair and the pretty pair was just 50 bob, so I bought the pretty pair and left smiling. But once I got outside, I noticed something very strange. You know that effect when someone is talking into a microphone and they suddenly turn their head, so that their voice sounds diluted?

Yes. That’s what my earphones were doing.

If I turned to look at someone, the song would be suddenly louder. If I tripped on a kerb, the tweeters would spike and my rock song would suddenly convert into ‘pss-pss-pss-pss’. When I stopped walking in shock, the tweeters would disappear and all I’d hear was base. Sometimes the instrumentals would die completely and I’d just hear the lyrics is some kind of twisted reverse karaoke.

The annoying part about this is it’s inconsistent. I was riding in a Citi Hoppa, and every turn, bump, or break would create a different result! Aaargh!

Now comes the amusing part. I took out the wiring to examine it, and noticed a shiny silver button at the base of the earphone jack. Apparently, when you press the button, the sound becomes bellisimo. When you stop pressing it, you get the echo sound. So the fluctuations in sound quality occur when the shiny button is accidentally[de]activated. The only way to get good sound is to keep your finger on the button. Or use a really strong rubber band. Or masking tape.

Now here’s the thing. I’m not mad that I bought fake earphones, because everyone that sees them goess all ooh and aaah before I demonstrate. And even if someone had warned me, it’s one of those things that you have to test to believe.

What bugs me is all the vendors that are pressing the shiny button while ‘testing’ just to make a sale. It reminds me of the stash of fake cash on my windowsill. I have a hundred bob note with the corner ripped out, a fifty bob that’s tattered and ripped in two, and a ten bob coin with the middle missing. I didn’t get them from makangas – I actually got them as change from three different supermarkets, all wrapped up in a receipt.

I’ve thought about paying them in a mat and insisting on a 1000 bob note if they refuse, but then I imagine some mean makanga forcing the same note onto some unsuspecting passenger, or worse, insulting them when they won’t accept. I watched one woman in a bus being called names for about 10 minutes because she wouldn’t accept a tattered note for change. male passengers joined in the abuse and it turned into ‘Wanawake was siku hizi wana madharau’ as the men called the woman arrogant and claimed she didn’t know the value of hard work or money. Sigh.

So rather than subject an innocent person to a really bad day, I keep the broken money on my windowsill. It’s a reminder to stay human. Not many people acknowledge such reminders.

So as I look for some duct tape to plug my brand new earphones, I keep thinking of where I will hide it so I can keep the cool factor – because they really are pretty earphones.

Speaking of duct tape versus masking tape, I had to sit a test today to qualify for a writing job. It was a 40 question multiple choice exam on the differences between British and American English. I always thought it was basic things like lift vs elevator, ground floor vs first floor and colour vs colour. Apparently, there’s a whole lot more involved. Like, for example, the British say dicTAte while Americans say DICtate. Who knew? And there’s the whole Dear sir [comma] vs Dear Sir [colon] thing.

I scored 80% – mostly through guesswork and inky-pinky-ponkey – so I got the job. But that was one super stressful 40 minutes!

In other news, did you know you can get a bugging device that looks like an extension cable? It comes with a sim card in it, and when you dial the sim card, instead of ringing, it transmits all the voices and sounds around the bug. I s**t you not. Scary, yes?

And finally, congratulations to My Love on getting his first novel published.

I am SO proud of you Sailor. You rock!!

♫ Song 2 ♫ Blur ♫

Inception and Alejandro

First, Alejandro. I don’t much care for [or against] Lady Gaga. She has no effect on me. Her songs are pretty catchy, and that video she did with Beyoncé left me disturbed for days, but beyond that, I have no opinion.

So when I heard there was this new video called Alejandro, I was like yeah, ok. For the next few days, anytime I saw something vaguely weird on TV, I’d ask if it was Alejandro. I’d heard the video described as pornographic, so I was wary…

Yesterday, I bumped into it on Kiss TV. At first I saw  a set that looked like Go West by Pet Shop Boys meets Equilibrium, except it was in black and white. The dancers looked pretty gay, and there was a mouth that looked a lot like Madonna’s. Then I heard some weird monologue and saw what looked like a nun in red leather-slash-spandex. Ooookaaaaaaay.

The tune of the song is pretty catchy, so even as I watched the video, I kept singing ♫ Ale-Ale-jandro-Ale-Ale-jandro ♫ I couldn’t figure out what the song was about, because in the chorus, she mentions three or four different guys’ names, so unless the dude in the funny hat is called Alejandro Fernando Roberto Ricardo, then that’s some really bad rhyming.

I don’t know why there was a red nun in a coffin, or why she was swallowing a crucifix, or why the other nun was being ravaged by gay guys in Beatles wigs, or even why skinny people in tan underwear were dry humping while chained to hospital beds. Weeeeiiiirrrrrddd!

The most disturbing part for me was the nun dressed in white with red splotches marking her … beauty spots. Erasing that image may require some therapy.

After a while, I figure the Madonna-like mouth wasn’t accidental. This video actually looks like a mash-up of Madonna’s videos for Like a Prayer and Vogue. There was even some Frozen in there somewhere. Wow! All I can say is …

♫ You know that I love you boy ♫

♫ Hot like Mexico, rejoice ♫

♫ Ale-Ale-jandro-Ale-Ale-jandro ♫

Now, to less insane matters. Inception. Sigh. This movie should have been really, really good. It’s got this amazing concept and the potential to totally fry my brains, but somehow, it just didn’t. I’ve done a more detailed review over on DR, so here, I’ll only explain.

I thought that after watching a movie like that, I’d be seriously mind-f****d. I’m big on dreams, and this morning I woke up feeling upset because I’d had a spell of nightmares. In my dreams, I’m sometimes aware that I’m dreaming. In one particular nightmare, I even got on my knees and prayed so I could wake up [after pinching myself and splashing water on my face – all didn’t work, and I did all this in my sleep mind you].

When we were little and had nightmares, my mum would have us kneel by the bed, say a prayer, place a Gideon’s Bible under our pillows and wear a Holy Water cross to keep bad dreams away. That’s why I was trying to kneel. I kept screaming, ‘Wake up, your dreaming!’ But the dream was populated my alien demons, so invisible hands kept pulling me to my feet when I knelt down to pray, and I therefore, I couldn’t wake up.

I’ve done a lot more … embarrassing things in my sleep, so with a background like that, the whole dream within a dream concept is easy for me to get. A movie about people stealing and planting ideas while you sleep should be just the thing for me. In my dream last night, I was aware of being asleep, and kept trying to twist my dream into a happy ending. Instead, each mental turn I took ended up making things worse. I know, I know, signs of stress. I need some rice ice cream.

So after a night like that, Inception seemed like the perfect thing. My brain was numb and brittle, just prime for some classic brainwashing. But after 2 hours and 10 minutes, I feel zero, zip, nadda. I’m not even afraid of going to sleep tonight. Now Poltergeist on the other hand