Repetune - The Songs of our Heads

Though it would be really easy to lean towards Killing in the Name of as the repetune for rage against the machine, I have decided to go with Bullet in the Head because it is a true repetune, without relying on the gimmick of using the word fuck 17 times. Instead, it creeps in with a brooding bass line, gets invaded by de la Rocha’s raps, then explodes into guitar mastery, along with DJ sounds coming out of a guitar.

They say jump
you say how high?

This song captures more of what rage against the machine is about better than Killing in the Name of and I think it has far better longevity in the head as well. If ever, there was a soundtrack to Thich Quang Duc’s self-immolation (as shown on the album cover), it is this song.

However, this song is about government using media to control the population. Looking at it, now, I doubt the government truly has the control over the media that is implied, but that is beside the point.

Play it again jack and then rewind the tape
And then play it again and again and again
Until ya mind is locked in

In the same vein, the media continually spits out images we accept as true. The easiest to point to is the war in Iraq. I am not in Iraq. I do not know anyone in Iraq. The only images I get are what the media will give me, and whatever I will seek out. Who do I believe?

This is the message which repeats in my head because of this repetune. Yes, the song rocks. But, more importantly, it has given a life lesson to me which I follow constantly. And if I need to spell the lesson out, perhaps you just need a Bullet in the Head.

This repetune is truly one of the greatest inspirational songs of all time.  Though perhaps, I speak a bit strongly. It is truly one of the greatest montage songs of all time. When I listen to the song, I cannot help but picture Rocky training to beat up Mr. T. From its opening chords, which is really all one needs to hear, the song whips you through any possible hardship you can possibly have. After all, the song was created specifically for Rocky III, and thus was created specifically for that underdog triumph, where David slays Goliath.

Because of this, whenever the song is stuck in my head, any activity I am doing at the time will suddenly become dangerous to anyone that comes within proximity. Imagine it for a moment, I am at the office making some copies, and Eye of the Tiger begins to play in my head. Suddenly, making copies becomes exercise, my heart starts racing, and I yell for Adrian after every clean copy. By the time I’m done, I look around and find the bodies of co-workers, covered in paper cuts, begging for their lives. After sparing them, I kick down my office door and make hot, sweet love to every woman I run into… unless they’re ugly, but then again, with this song playing, anything is possible.

And might I add, having this song playing in my head as I’m rolling a condom on about to invade a woman…

Eye of the tiger, baby.
Eye. Of. The. Tiger.

To many people, Led Zeppelin is really a blues band.  After all, they took a riff from Willie Dixon and made Whole Lotta Love out of it.  They also ripped off the following Anne Bredon, Jake Holmes, Eddie Cochran, Bukka White and Sleepy John Estes, Howlin’ Wolf, Blind Willie Johnson, Moby Grape, Spirit, and Davey Graham for the songs Babe, I’m Gonna Leave you, Dazed and Confused, Communication Breakdown, Custard Pie, The Lemon Song, Nobody’s Fault But Mine, Since I’ve Been Loving You, Stairway to Heaven, and White Summer. They were also really big geeks, because aside from the supposed rock facade, they had many J.R.R. Tolkien references, though not really as many as you probably thought.

That brings us to Immigrant Song. Aside from making me go Ah-ah-ahhhh-ah! Ah-ah-ahhhh-ah! and making me feel like a Viking, I’m not really sure what else to say about it other than, THEY RIPPED OFF THE BROADWAY MUSICAL SOUTH PACIFIC.

The song Bali Hai is where my favorite part of Immigrant Song comes from. No, seriously. Try it right now. Sing the words “Bali Hai” to “Ah-ah-ahhhhh-ah!” Really. Try it right now. No one is looking. Slow it down and pretend you’re in the 1940’s, and you’re now singing Bali Hai.

But, returning to repetune, the song is undoubtedly about the

Ah-ah-ahhhh-ah!
Ah-ah-ahhhh-ah!

I could run around screaming that all day. And sometimes, I do, but I limit those times to when I’m at home all day, lest the horde come and find me.

Immigrant Song is also one of those songs where I just don’t know the lyrics except for a select few. In a way, this is my karaoke song. The song I will see on the karaoke list, request to sing, then get up there and realize I don’t know any words other than

Ah-ah-ahhhh-ah!
Ah-ah-ahhhh-ah!
……
The hammer of the gods

And thus, I am stuck with what is a classic repetune for my head. A driving rhythm, incomprehensible lyrics except for a bit in the chorus and one line in the verses. Perhaps that’s it.

The hammer of the gods, are these songs that stay in my head.

Ah-ah-ahhhh-ah!
Ah-ah-ahhhh-ah!

I spent all day today in an air-conditioned classroom with windows that can’t be opened, so I wasn’t aware how bad the fires of Southern California had become. I knew Malibu was in deep, Magic Mountain seemed imperiled, and southern San Diego looked like it was going through its yearly inferno. As I write this, though, the skies of the city are maroon with ash and reflected light, and the heavy stench of smoke permeates everything within my vicinity. Times like this make radio stations get a little goofy. This morning on KROQ, Kevin and Bean played Bad Religion’s “Los Angeles Is Burning”, and either KLOS or Jack FM played Hendrix’s “Fire”. In a time like this, though, how could this classic not come up? It’s all that’s been in my head for the last few hours. Lyrically, this is a completely inappropriate song to have blasting while uncontrolled flames rage across the hills and people settle down to sleep in empty gyms and rec centers. Still, though, like Wang Chung’s invisible vise, it grabs me and doesn’t let go. You have to excuse me for the moment, though. I have to call my family and make sure they’re OK.

 To the firefighters battling this thing - Thank you, and please don’t let the motherfucker burn.

We’re back from our time warp back to the 70s, and in a pique of chronological curiosity, we’re firmly ensconced in the 1940s via a jazz classic couched in the irony of the 2000s, making it a repetune that never fades.

I love the drums in this song. They’re very Muppet Show to me - random tin cans and clanky, unidentifiable sounds, mixed with a trap kit for that jazzy, swinging feel. I cannot help but move to them. Sometimes, in the car, it’s a shoulder shimmy. At home, it’s a bastardized zydeco/lindy-hop full body spasm because, well, I’m rather uncoordinated down there. Whatever the place, whenever the time, I’m going at it.

Then, there are the lyrics. As I think back on the popular swing that everyone associates with the period, none of it concentrates on lurid matter. The most forward any of it got was the Andrews Sisters telling their beaus not to sit under the apple tree with anyone but them. The Ditty Bops, however, take up the cause celebrated by Ma Rainey and many other singers who weren’t afraid to put a little bump and grind into their twist and shout:

Wish I could shimmy like my sister Kate
I’d never stay home, stay out too late
I’d get my stuff about as high as a kite
You know I do it for you every night
Now all the boys in the neighborhood
Knew Katie could shimmy and it’s mighty good

Hot stuff!!! Kate’s the town bicycle, and her little sister wants to follow in her footsteps. Aaah, underage sexuality. I haven’t felt this cool about it since Maurice Chevalier’s turn in Gigi.

This song is so catchy, I can’t help but have it course through my brain every now and again, sometimes for hours-long stretches. It requires my daily necessity for fun, funk, and the ladies. Sure beats my old job - smuggling Russian whores into the country via storage containers in San Pedro. A lot more enjoyable too.

As we come to the end of our 70’s AM Classics theme week, we have engineered the progression of songs throughout to save the best for last. When the time came to post, though, it was difficult to come up with a real caketopper of a song, one that would encapsulate all that is good about a repetune, while also uncovering the worst tendencies of the genre. After some thought, it dawned. Where could one find a song that was applauded and detested in equal parts, that was both completely forgettable and completely memorable? Where, pray tell, could one find a song that was at once, insubstantial as the wind and as solid as a rock?

EUROVISION EUROVISION EUROVISION EUROVISION EUROVISION!!!

There are many, er, special instances of pop gems that have won Eurovision. ABBA (sorry, I don’t have a backwards ‘B’ on this keyboard) actually got their big break by submitting “Waterloo” to the competition and emerging victorious. More than ABBA, though, who seemed to have some sort of magic elf living in one of the Bjorn’s beards that was able to write repetunes up and down the Billboard charts, I would rather focus on an example by a Spanish group / woman / big band (I can’t tell who’s what) and their winning entry from 1973.

Eres Tu is, in short, the definition of repetune. The melodies are sweet and sticky like the inside of a honey jar. There’s an orchestral fanfare, which isn’t necessary but always helps. The best part, though - I don’t understand any of the lyrics. I speak a little Spanish, but only when it’s spoken at a speed suitable for Bob Ross or congressional candidate Tim Calhoun. When sung at seventy beats per minute, it’s unintelligible. Add in the arbitrary Spanish accent of adding a ‘th’ where there should be a ‘z’ (and Cristina, if you’re reading, that means I think it’s just lovely), and well, it’s a song that demands repeated listens, just to know what phonemes are at play.

As far as I can tell, the song has something to do with water in a fountain, or someone being like the wheat in bread. I swear to God. Wheat in bread. You give a Spaniard $50,000 and a recording contract, and what for? A song about loving someone so much, you consider them the recommended daily allowance of fiber in your starch. That’s love folks. That’s amor, plain and simple.

I can’t deny that Eres Tu doesn’t have some outside help. I believe this is one of the songs Farley and Spade sing during the travelling montage of Tommy Boy. Also, there is a completely tasteless cover of this song by an Australian named Jimmy Campbell which wrecks the romance and tenderness of the original. That, of course, means it’s really funny. Find it, compare it to the original, and bask in the glory.

When travelling through the land of the repetune, beware. In most cases, the residents are benign, offering their musical wares with generosity in the hopes that you will approve. Some, however, hold no regard for your sonic appreciation. Donovan, I feel, is king of this outcast clan, and this, my friends, is their battle cry. Annoying as all get out, this song is the reason people should be forced to undergo classes and get registered before they’re allowed to use a slide guitar.

I mean, what good could have come of letting the Hurdy Gurdy Man operate a machine so complex? That being said, it’s the thing that makes the song stick in everyone’s head. Sure as shit, it’s not the lyrics or musicianship, despite the fact that the words

Superman and the Green Lantern ain’t got nothing on me
I can make like a turtle and dive for the pearls in your sea

somehow work their way into the mix. I would have thought a lyric as inane as this one would have made it out of the studio. Shows what I know about making music.

Why Imani Coppola based a whole single around the loping guitar line that pervades Sunshine Superman is mysterious, but ultimately understandable. It’s entirely that slide guitar, combined with an acoustic and a no-tone electric, that creates the memorable hook. This is the musical equivalent of throwing up on a Tilt-A-Whirl - circular, messy, and not worth the money, but in the end, an event that you recall for the rest of your life. For the sake of the site, I’m taking this one for the team.