Bryan Adams: Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman?

So i knew i was overdue to post something here at Lyrics, Weakly, but i wasn’t sure which song to post. But then, like a bolt from the blue, this past Tuesday i heard Bryan Adams’s 1995 #1 hit “Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman?”

Now, i realize that i’m wading into dangerous territory here—if you read the comments on the sort of site that collects user comments about songs, you discover that there are people out there who really, really, really love this song, and by featuring this song here i’m certainly likely to draw their ire. However, if this blog is about anything, it is about truth, justice, and the American way, where “the American way” is defined as “the right to point out that songs are really, really, really bad”.

Well, that and the right to point out that, despite my utter loathing of AutoTune, Bryan Adams may be the poster child for a singer where i really, really, really wouldn’t mind having his voice subjected to the process.

But even if somebody with a much smoother voice were to sing this song, i still wouldn’t be a fan of it. Why not? Well, let’s take a closer look at the lyrics:

To really love a woman
To understand her

Oh, cool! This is a how-to song! Not only are we going to learn how to love women, we’re going to learn how to understand them, too!

You gotta know her deep inside

So i need to know about her insides? Cool, that’s easy.

Hear every thought, see every dream

Well, now this might be a bit more difficult.

But really, Mr. Adams, are you sure that knowing so much about her dreams is really a sign of love? I’d think of it as more a stalker thing, myself.

And give her wings when she wants to fly

I’d actually advise against this, given claimed historical experience.

Then when you find yourself lying helpless in her arms
You know you really love a woman

Please excuse me for a moment while i figure out what lying helpless in someone’s arms has to do with loving them.

Hmmm…

No, hold on, i still haven’t figured it out.

No, still trying.

Ah! I’ve got it!

When you love a woman you tell her that she’s really wanted
When you love a woman you tell her that she’s the one

Okay, so i’ve had some fun with the first few lines of this song, since Mr. Adams was providing some very bizarre advice—but then he turns around and gives us this, the sort of thing you’d find in any sort of relationship self-help book?

I suspect that it may be the result of this song being written not just by Mr. Adams, but also by Michael Kamen and Robert John “Mutt” Lange, and the three of them working together just threw lines out there, figuring that something had to stick. Now, i don’t know who wrote which part of this song, but my vote is that the sensible lines came from Mr. Lange, for no reason other than him having the nickname “Mutt”.

’Cause she needs somebody to tell her that it’s gonna last forever

Or, in other words, she’s insecure.

So tell me have you ever really, really, really ever loved a woman?

Let’s see…Yes on the telling her it’ll last forever, yes on telling her she’s the one, yes one telling her she’s really wanted, no on hearing every thought she has…Dang! And here i’d been thinking i was in love with—really, really, really in love with—a woman, what with me having been married to her for nearly fifteen years and all, but i guess i’m not. Glad Mr. Adams was here to set me straight!

To really love a woman

But fortunately, Mr. Adams will now tell me what i need to do!

Let her hold you ’til you know how she needs to be touched

Um, Mr. Adams? I’m cool with the let her hold you part of the advice here, and i think that that’s actually rather good advice. But how in the world is letting her hold me going to let me know how she wants to be touched? I mean, why not just ask her? Wouldn’t open, clear communication about physical needs and desires be more effective than hoping for a Vulcan mind meld sort of experience with…

Oh, sorry—that’s right, you’re the teacher, i’m just the student. I’ll be quiet now.

Please, Mr. Adams, teach me. Teach me what i must do.

You’ve gotta breathe her

Huh?

I mean, since she’s isn’t made of oxygen, i don’t really see how i’m supposed to do that.

Therefore, i assume you mean this as a sort of metaphor—but no matter how much i try, i can’t figure out how exactly this metaphor works. I guess that means there’ll be some clue to it in the next line.

Really taste her ’til you can feel her in your blood

Um, dude?

I mean, i know that this isn’t without precedent in the natural world, but beyond the fact that it’s usually the other way around, i have to say that i’m just really, really, really not into eating other people.

I can sense your disappointment from here. Sorry.

And when you can see your unborn children in her eyes
You know you really love a woman

Oh.

Oh, my.

You know, after hearing that line i don’t think that i really, really, really care that i’ve disappointed you, Mr. Adams.

I mean, seriously. If you look on the intertubes, you find lots and lots of people who say that this is the most romantic line of any song ever recorded.

No, i mean it. Really, really, really seriously.

But as always, i tend to subject lines like this to a “singles bar” test—that is, would it come across as creepy if it were used as a pick-up line in a singles bar. Well, let’s imagine the scene:

Mr. Adams: I love you.
Random woman: Get out of here.
Mr. Adams: No, i mean it. I really, really, really mean it.
Random woman: What?
Mr. Adams: I know i love you, because i can see my unborn children in your eyes.
Random woman: Um, bouncer? Can i have your help over here?

See, it just wouldn’t work.

Of course, if you see unborn children in anyone’s eyes, i’d suggest that it’s time to excuse yourself from the room, and never to return. Of course, that’s just me, and i’m clearly just not romantic enough to really, really, really love a woman.

And then we get the chorus again. Just to remind you, it’s all the things that you do when you really, really, really love a woman.

When you love a woman you tell her that she’s really wanted
When you love a woman you tell her that she’s the one
’Cause she needs somebody to tell her that you’ll always be together
So tell me have you ever really, really, really ever loved a woman?

But apparently that’s not all! Mr. Adams provides us with some additional things you need to do:

You got to give her some faith

Okay, fine—but how exactly do you do this? Faith is an abstract concept, and a very personal experience—how do you give that to someone?

Well, unless Mr. Adams means that you’re supposed to give her cheaply made shoes. That i could certainly do.

Hold her tight
A little tenderness
Gotta treat her right

Here’s the sanity of “Mutt” showing up again, i’m thinking.

She will be there for you, taking good care of you
You really gotta love your woman, yeah

Well, at least we know that Mr. Adams isn’t entirely altruistic in the whole enterprise—after going through all the trouble of saying nice things to her, telling her she’s the one, hearing her thoughts, giving her wings and shoes, there’s payback. I wonder if there are any clues about what she’s supposed to do in the next couple lines?

And when you find yourself lying helpless in her arms
You know you really love a woman

You know, i’m actually still trying to figure this one out, trying to figure out the conversation that would lead up to this sort of feeling.

“Hey—that rag smells of chloroform”
“That’s not chloroform, babe, it’s love!”

Apparently, she’s supposed to supply the drugs.

And now, to review:

When you love a woman you tell her that she’s really wanted
When you love a woman you tell her that she’s the one
’Cause she needs somebody to tell her that it’s gonna last forever
So tell me have you ever really, really, really ever loved a woman?

Well, according to Mr. Adams, the answer is no. So hey—to my wife, sorry about that.

Just tell me have you ever really, really, really ever loved a woman?

Um, dude, i already answered this question. It’s really, really, really annoying when someone keeps asking a question once it’s been answered.

Just tell me have you ever really, really, really ever loved a woman?

In all honesty, have i really, really, really loved a woman? Yes. Stalked and been dangerously obsessive about her? I really, really, really hope the answer is no.

Rod Stewart: Do Ya Think I’m Sexy

So things have been pretty quiet the past several weeks here at Lyrics, Weakly (new motto: Where the pun in the blog’s name becomes less apt with each passing day!), but i’ve been wanting to post a new song, really i have. And since yesterday was Thursday, Thursday…, tomorrow is Saturday, and Sunday comes afterwards, it’s certainly time to do so.

But we’re not going to be looking into Rebecca Black’s “Friday” this evening. After all, as no less an authority than Rolling Stone has pointed out, “Friday” is one of the greatest songs ever recorded.

No, this week i’m presenting something much, much worse—Rod Stewart’s 1978 worldwide hit “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?”.

Oh, wait. That was the wrong video (though you and i both know it’s much, much better than anything Mr. Stewart would have created). Try this one, instead.

But enough of the visuals—let’s bounce to the disco beat as we get to the lyrics…

Sugar
Sugar
mmm…ooh

One of the advantages of posting these is that i get to learn what the lyrics really are to songs where i’ve never been able to figure out the words. (Well, at least most of the time.) Of course, i have to say that learning what Mr. Stewart moans at the beginning of this particular song has never been all that high on my to-do list, but i suppose that now i can say that i know this additional piece of information and so i should be happy, since knowing is half the battle.

She sits alone waiting for suggestions
He’s so nervous avoiding all her questions

Okay, here’s a problem: If she’s alone, how exactly is she asking him questions? This is, after all, 1978, so it’s not like she’s on her cell phone or texting questions to him or such.

But let’s just gloss past this issue so that we can get a good idea of the scene: We’re in a discotheque, probably in New York City (we find out there’s high-rise apartments nearby later in the song), filled with young men wearing polyester leisure suits and women wearing unexpected amounts of eye makeup, and Mr. Stewart informs us that they’re avoiding any meaningful human interaction.

Wait a minute! I never made the connection before, but it makes sense! Young, urban, and putting forth the image that they don’t really need any of the people or things around them—these are hipsters, 25 years before there was a word for such a thing. Even John Travolta makes sense now.

Dance, sad dancing hipster, dance! (Make sure you scroll down a bit on that link, by the way.)

His lips are dry, her heart is gently pounding
Don’t you just know exactly what they’re thinking?

I don’t know about her, but i’d guess he’s wondering if she has any ChapStick.

If you want my body and you think I’m sexy
Come on, sugar, let me know
If you really need me just reach out and touch me
Come on, honey, tell me so

You know, this is ordinarily a text-only blog, and i provide links to any audiovisual content. Here, however, i do feel the need to provide some embedded images to demonstrate my point.



No, Mr. Stewart, we do not think you’re sexy, and believe me, we have absolutely no desire to touch your body.

Your money, on the other hand, there’s apparently a lot of women out there who wouldn’t mind touching that.

He’s acting shy looking for an answer
Come on, honey, let’s spend the night together

Okay, a couple things here.

First of all, this is acting shy?!? I mean, what would be more forward? Maybe “Should i call you in the morning or just nudge you?” “That dress will look better once it’s on my bedroom floor”? “Pardon me, are you in heat?” “Nice shoes, let’s screw”?

Second of all, i realize that i hadn’t even hit puberty when this song came out, and so i wasn’t busy figuring out the intricacies of the whole human mating ritual thing yet, but did this sort of line actually work back in the late 70s? ’Cause if it did, i think we have all the evidence we need that people now are way more intelligent than people were back then.

(Yeah, I know, we already had evidence of that. I mean more evidence, i guess.)

But anyway, the woman Mr. Stewart (you know he just has to be wanting us to believe he’s the guy in this story) is speaking to goes for it and accepts the offer—because she responds back with what has to be the most mindbending acceptance of a sexual proposition ever:

Now hold on a minute before we go much further
Give me a dime so I can phone my mother

Okay, dude, let’s say you’re after no-strings casual sex, and you find someone who’s willing. Just as a rule of thumb, if his or her response runs along these lines, leave. Now. Yeah, it may just be one furtive night, but you don’t want those sorts of mommy issues anywhere near any part of your body or property. Seriously.

Of course, even given that a dollar went further back then than it does now, purchasing a woman’s, um, services for only 10¢ seems like a pretty good deal, if you’re into that sort of thing. So you’ve got that going for you, at least. (Warning: That link isn’t safe for work, particularly if your boss is reading over your shoulder.)

They catch a cab to his high rise apartment
At last he can tell her exactly what his heart meant

Apparently he needs to be more direct, since the line come on, honey, let’s spend the night together was just a bit too circumspect for the occasion.

If you want my body and you think I’m sexy
Come on, sugar, let me know
If you really need me just reach out and touch me
Come on, honey, tell me so

True story alert! (Well, at least according to the Wikipedia page for the song, which means it must be true, right?) Mr. Stewart lifted the melody for this song from Brazilian artist Jorge Ben’s song “Taj Mahal”. Listen and decide for yourself!

Or, alternatively, you could listen to one of the many covers of Mr. Stewart’s version. And then you can weep for the future of humanity.

His heart’s beating like a drum
’Cause at last he’s got his girl home
Relax, baby, now we are alone

Actually, this seems like cause for concern to me. This is particularly worrying, given that he’s at home alone with this woman who is likely untrained in emergency medical procedures, and there are indications elsewhere in this song that there is an expectation of sexual activity. All in all, it looks like Mr. Stewart might have to end this story with a trip to the hospital.

Of course, that would mean the song would have to end, so it would be a win for us.

And actually, an instrumental break right here gives us hope that maybe Mr. Stewart has, in fact, left the building, but it turns out to be a false hope, since we’re told that

They wake at dawn ’cause all the birds are singing

You know, any time i’ve ever been in a high-rise building, i haven’t heard the birds singing in the morning. I’ve occasionally heard cars driving in the morning traffic, but that’s not nearly as romantic an image, now, is it?

Also, if there was any justice in the world one of them would have been awake and gone already by this point. The other one would be waking up about right now with a missing kidney.

Two total strangers but that ain’t what they’re thinking

Well, that would be because they’re not total strangers.

Think about it. Even if they never exchanged engraved calling cards, they have had at least one short, fumbling, but very goal-directed conversation, as given earlier in the song’s narrative. Therefore, i’m pretty sure that both Emily Post and Miss Manners would agree that they can still consider themselves properly introduced, and no longer strangers.

Outside it’s cold, misty and it’s raining
They got each other, neither one’s complaining

No, they’re not complaining because they’re inside, not because they’ve got each other. I strongly suspect that if they were outside in the cold misty rain, they’d be complaining even if they were with each other.

He say’s I’m sorry but I’m out of milk and coffee
Never mind, sugar, we can watch the early movie

What?!?

Really, does this line even begin to make sense? I mean, i’m trying to think of any way that this would happen in normal human conversation. Think about it:

“Oh, bummer, i can’t find anything to drink.”

“No worries—let’s watch a movie instead.”

I mean, for some reason i doubt that watching a movie is going to slake y’all’s thirst, you know?

Of course, this is the same couple that had a conversation earlier that essentially started “Let’s have sex”, which was answered by “Sure—but first i have to tell my mother i’ll be exchanging bodily fluids with someone i just met”, so i guess i shouldn’t be surprised by the content of any further unusual reported conversation between these two.

If you want my body and you think I’m sexy
Come on, sugar, let me know
If you really need me just reach out and touch me
Come on, honey, tell me so
Tell me so, baby

Historical fact: This song was released in 1978, but AT&T didn’t start using their “Reach out and touch someone” slogan until 1979. Of course, i figure Mr. Stewart didn’t make any claims against AT&T for any sort of infringement, because, as we all know, they were omnipotent, so the odds would have been stacked against him.

Anyway, that’s all for this round—just a song about one more day in the history of gonorrhea. Pleasant dreams!

Ke$ha: Take It Off

So the pun in the name of this blog hasn’t been at all appropriate lately—a weekly schedule just isn’t happening, apparently.

However, the lights haven’t been completely out here at Lyrics, Weakly headquarters. There have been a couple songs waiting on the back burner, waiting merely for the moment that a bit of spare time would appear, would appear to save them from the limbo that they were stuck in.

Or something like that.

Well, spare time hasn’t arrived, but nearly six months ago one of my daughters requested that i write a Lyrics, Weakly post on the lyrics to the Ke$ha song “Take It Off”. Yes, a child of mine recognized the utter horror that is that song, for which i would simply like to say, along with the nation, thank heaven for little girls.

Incidentally, you really should click on the link up there that takes you to the video of the song—it’s really a nicely shot cautionary tale about the dangers of providing a bunch of poorly dressed dancers unlimited access to paint pigments.

Oh. And meth. Lots of meth.

Anyway. This song has blessedly receded from the airwaves, but a few months ago you couldn’t avoid it—i think i heard it on the local classical station at one point. But, just for old times sake, let’s deal with it once more.

There’s a place downtown
Where the freaks all come around
It’s a hole in the wall
It’s a dirty free for all

Now, i’ll let it be known that i’m all about giving credit where credit is due—so let’s give Ms Ke$ha credit for coming up with an interesting opening. The first time i heard this song, i found the use of a classic children’s dirty song coupled with AutoTune shifted into overdrive intriguing, and i wanted to hear what followed.

(What followed, of course, was that i shouldn’t have bothered. But so it goes.)

Fun fact! According to Wikipedia (so you know it must be true), the children’s song referenced here has several titles, including “The Streets of Cairo”, “The Poor Little Country Maid, “The Girls in France”, and “The Southern Part of France”. Ms Ke$ha, hats off to you for presenting us with such an endearing allusion to our shared childhoods.

Pity you didn’t stop there.

When the dark of the night comes around
That’s the time that the animal comes alive
Looking for something wild

Wow. I have to say, that’s a reference i didn’t see coming.

(See also “Wolf, Hungry Like the”.)

And now we lookin’ like pimps in my gold Trans Am

Ms Ke$ha, to be quite honest, it doesn’t take a gold Trans Am to make you look like a prostitute.

Got a water bottle full of whiskey in my handbag

You know, i think it might be time for an intervention.

Got my drunk text on I’ll regret it in the morn

No. You won’t regret drunk texting in the morning, ’cause you know you’ll just pretend it was all autocorrect’s fault.

Also, i would like to point out that this is actually Ms Ke$ha’s second time appearing on Lyrics, Weakly. The first was for “Tik Tok”, and i would like to remind both of my listeners that i noted at the time (about nine months ago) that what she was really going to regret was her morning regimen of brushing her teeth with Jack Daniels rather than a fluoride toothpaste.

And why do i mention this? Because mere days ago, xkcd made the same point.

This is significant, because Randall Munroe is a recognized Internet Genius—but if i posted an idea eight or nine months before he came up with it, then that means that i…

I’ll leave the obvious conclusion as an exercise for the reader.

But enough about me—i must selflessly turn my attention back to Ms Ke$ha, who is busy telling us

But tonight
I don’t give a
I don’t give a
I don’t give a

Oh, wild and crazy performer that she is, she teases us with the hint that she’s going to say a naughty word, and then doesn’t—not once, not even twice, but three whole times. Oh, ho, ho, Ms. Ke$ha, i bow in the general direction of your most original and never-before-thought-of use of the language.

(Though upon typing that, i realize that i shouldn’t have been so sarcastic—at the very least, “oh, ho, ho” appears to be a completely accurate way to describe her.)

There’s a place downtown
Where the freaks all come around
It’s a hole in the wall
It’s a dirty free for all

Yes, we’re aware—you told us so at the beginning of the song. I guess we should be happy for the reminder, what with alcohol’s effect on memory and all.

And they turn me on when they take it off when they take it off
Everybody take it off

See, i’m puzzled.

I have to admit that i don’t frequent strip clubs—it’s not my personal kink. But from what i am led to understand, at the sort of club where strippers take their clothes off, everyone else is definitely not supposed to take theirs off—that would distract from the performer.

But i suppose that if you’re willing to pretend to be unconventional to the point of spelling your name with a dollar sign, such norms make no difference to you.

There’s a place I know if you're looking for a show
Where they go hardcore and there’s glitter on the floor

Ah! Hardcore, hmmm? So now i get it—it’s one of those places. Sorry to have misunderstood.

But glitter on the floor? Fine, i’ll take your word for it—you look at the floor, i’ll stay over here.

And they turn me on when they take it off when they take it off
Everybody take it off

I still don’t understand why everybody has to disrobe, though.

Lose your mind lose it now

You’re a bit demanding, aren’t you, Ms Ke$ha?

Lose your clothes in the crowd

So what’s so unusual about crowds of naked people?

Oh, sorry, i forgot—you’re edgy, and therefore whatever you’re demanding we do must be wild and crazy and unprecedented. My mistake. Carry on.

We’re delirious tear it down ’til the sun comes back around

So now you want to tear the place down?

Weird. And what sort of a plan do you have to put that into effect, Ms Ke$ha?

N-now we’re getting so smashed knocking over trash cans
Eurbody breakin’ bottles it's a filthy hot mess

So let’s see if i understand.

You’re going to get drunk enough that you can’t pronounce the word “everybody”, and then knock over some trash cans.

Oooh, crazy. I’m sure that will just completely subvert the existing systems of power throughout the world. I don’t know if i can handle the sheer and utter enormity of this level of social nonconformity.

Seriously, Ms Ke$ha, just stop it. Please.

And I’m gonna get faded and I’m not the designated driver so
I don’t give a
I don’t give a
I don’t give a

You know, if i was the designated driver for Ms Ke$ha i’d worry that i’d end up with glitter and puke on the floor of my car. But maybe that’s just me.

There’s a place downtown where the freaks all come around
It’s a hole in the wall
It’s a dirty free for all

More repetition.

Speaking of repetition, as i mentioned earlier, this is the second time Ms Ke$ha has appeared on this blog—though, since i covered Katy Perry’s “California Gurls” a while back, some would argue this makes three times.

And they turn me on when they take it off when they take it off
Everybody take it off

I have decided that there is nothing more unsexy than Ms Ke$ha singing these lines.

Okay, so maybe there is. But not by all that much.

There’s a place I know if you’re looking for a show
Where they go hardcore and there’s glitter on the floor

I’m having this weird feeling of déjà vu, almost like i’ve heard these lines before, and recently.

Oh, wait—that’s because i did!

C’mon, Ms Ke$ha—if you’ve run out of ideas, just stop. it’s not like you’re going to make more money off of a nearly-four-minute song than a barely-three-minute one. And besides, then we wouldn’t have to listen to you push the AutoTune into ludicrous speed for quite as long, so we’d all win.

And they turn me on when they take it off when they take it off
Everybody take it off

You know what? I don’t care any more.

Oh, oh, oh!

Oh, wow! Something big and different must be coming up! Let’s see what it is.

EVERYBODY TAKE IT OFF!

Never mind.

Oh, Oh, Oh!
EVERYBODY TAKE IT OFF!

And again. In case we’d blacked out the first time.

Right now! TAKE IT OFF!
Right now! TAKE IT OFF!
Right now! TAKE IT OFF!
Oooh
Right now! TAKE IT OFF!
Right now! TAKE IT OFF!
EVERYBODY TAKE IT OFF!

You seem a bit urgent about this, Ms Ke$ha. I wonder why that might be.

There’s a place downtown where the freaks all come around
It’s a hole in the wall
It’s a dirty free for all
And they turn me on when they take it off when they take it off
Everybody take it off

Yep. More pointless repetition.

There’s a place downtown where the freaks all come around
It’s a hole in the wall
It’s a dirty free for all
And they turn me on when they take it off when they take it off
Everybody take it off

I just counted. There were twenty-six—yes, twenty-six!—repetitions of the phrase “take it off”. This is a three minute and forty-three second song, which means that she said that more than once every ten seconds. Come on, Ms Ke$ha—just knock it off.