« Officially Psyched | Main | About last night... »

April 11, 2008

Writing Through the Billboard Hot 100

It started with a harmless headline, “Mariah Carey tops Elvis Presley's No 1 mark.” At the moment I really didn’t think much of it, I never claimed loyalty to the sequined saint and always thought of Mariah Carey as the please touch museum of the pop charts. Had I not been influenced by the aura of April Fools I wouldn’t have even read the article. But I did, and as a result I think I completely lost control of what follows. This post did start out as an April Fools joke, but it is now a full week and a half past that excuse and I’d be the first to admit that since then I have paddled way too far into dangerous water. If the truth can set me free then let this is my get out of jail free card, so here it is… I bought Carey’s hit song from iTunes but I didn't stop there, I attempted to make “Touch My Body” into poetry…

The facts hold true, MC’s (as we paying fans call her) “Touch My Body” surpassed Elvis with her 18th trip to the top of the billboard 100. Elvis's last number one while he was heavily drugged but still alive was “Suspicious Minds.” Accept it or not Mariah Carey is only three ballads about some part of the feminine physique away from topping the Beatles who hold the record at 20.

***editorial note—I’m about a paragraph and half into this experiment and suddenly am having second thoughts on this project. Am I really going to go through with this? F$ck I’ve already paid 99 cents on iTunes and Mariah Carey is now officially on my iPod. I have been watching her video for 10 minutes at the coffee shop and I know the table next to me has seen the screen. I have lost all credibility and self respect; I'm in far far too deep. I must go on and make something out of this or else I am just the guy who has been walking around Philadelphia with a song called “Touch My Body” on his iPod top playlist.

Exhibit A: There is no turning back

So it must be done. If I don't succeed in this project I fear that within weeks I will have Glitter on my netflix cue. But how can I attempt to make poetry out of lyrics that already poetically employ the subtle beauty of veiled sensuality? Carey's genius is that she only hints at sexuality and thereby lets the listener do the dirty work of undressing the words. For example, look at the delicately placed sexual undertones in this lyric:

Let me wrap my thighs
All around your waist
Just a little taste
Touch my body

What more can I add to a lyricist who has an ear so remarkably sensitive that she could hear a rhyme in the adverb “too” with the numerical equivalent?

I know that you've been waiting for it
I'm waiting too
In my imagination I'd be all up on you
I know you got that fever for me, 102

As a result the only chance I had to make poetry out of "Touch My Body" would be to tip my hat to chance itself. The tactic that I would use would have to be similar to the poetical experiments of visionary composer John Cage who "wrote through" James Joyce's final novel, Finnegans Wake. If I can’t make poetry out of a Mariah Carey lyric maybe I could make poetry in a Mariah Carey lyric (that sounds much dirtier than the reality).

Using the first line of Touch My Body as my guide “MC you’re the place to be” I pulled every word in the song that contained the letter "M" or "C." The results may or may not be poetry. In reality it sounds like the Star Wars character Jar Jar Binks having phone sex, "me touch my can/ me my caress," but nonetheless here are the results. You can find the original lyrics to "Touch My Body" here if you would like to play along at home.

Posted by Yonah Korngold at April 11, 2008 03:21 PM

Trackback Pings

TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://www.merryswankster.com/movabletype/mt-tb.cgi/1530

Comments

Posted by: Daddy or Chips at April 11, 2008 04:16 PM

Posted by: Randall Monty at April 11, 2008 05:30 PM

Posted by: MIke Watt at April 11, 2008 09:02 PM

Post a comment