A true fanboi always stands MOST faithfully by his favorite b-side. A Tori fan will gauge another’s eye out lest his fave Track 2 gets slandered; Björk bfs will go weeks without talking to one another. A shamed single can slip by with a slight death glare, but don’t fuckin’ knock the shadow side. The best b-sides will accompany a fanboi at his grave. They are CRUCIAL to his fanboi identity for they flesh out his integrity, and affirm his ability to find the true gems.

This, of course, doesn’t only apply to the boiz. I have seen many a crazed Tori lesbo go for the figurative jugular (message boardz *sigh*) because another does not appreciate the sheer lusty power of “Cooling” or whatever. But seeing as that we’re talking about Madonna…

Okay, well this isn’t even my absolute fave Maddy b-side (He’s a pretender! Why’d I fall in love?), but hush, let’s not disrespect our fallen. Maravillo or no. How does this song not fall under the Madonna canon? Why does everyone forget this song exists? Is Madonna even Spanish?

No, really, the Latina-flav thing is precious. I’m glad she was pandering to her Spanish-speaking crowd long before Selena left for la isla bonita and spared us all a few more incompetent disco covers (R.I.P.) The Madonna ethnicity switcheroo is so fucking sneaky, though! I guess it makes sense for a chameleon to slip into her cha-cha dress without notice — Italians, Cubans, whatever, I see them both at my local hacienda. Wait, what? When’s the last time Madonna dressed up like a Turk or a nigress? Much to this fanboi’s chagrin, never (brownface too obvi?). That’s okay, I’ll take covert minstrelsy wherever I can get it.

So why is this so, so much better than “You’ll See”? I personally like it because of the pathos Catholico, which gives it a nice grungy gloss of authentico. It’s so sad, but we don’t know why! The lyrics are confusing! Who would name their son Spanish Eyes unless he popped out of her with a wig and implants? Ai, Jesus! Naturally, I like to think he died of AIDS, as this invites a twisted reinterpretation of the religious right attitudes during the AIDS crisis. Praying for an AIDS victim in the 80′s to the same God who condemns it? Sassy! This interpretation also gives fun meaning to “stand your guns against the wall,” aka put it back in your pants, bois! Yes, thanks for the tip, Madz. We’ll put you up next to Vanilla Ice and see how well you fare. Cunt.

Oooooh no but really, this song is fabulous. The major/minor mixture — ¡trés romantico! The growly throat that sounds like Madonna has a cold in remarkably exactly the same way every return of the refrain — ¡que dolor! I will gladly challenge another fanboi to a sword duel over indifference to this tune. Then he can see my true pasión.

Mmmmm.

mp3 // lyrics

I remember vividly the hype leading up to my first listen of Alligator, and how thoroughly unimpressed I was after spinning the thing even the first couple times. Even after finally becoming grossly infatuated with it, several initial hearings of “Fake Empire” when it went online as Boxer‘s first downloadable track left me totally deflated. As I should have expected, that album, like the one prior, steadily meted out its somber revelations. This is no longer The National of Alligator, nihilistic, drunken, blindly hopeful — Boxer paints a grim picture of disillusionment and tired stasis. “Fake Empire,” initially seeming a quaintly sad prequel, after the fact turns sinister; cruelly precient, even. Especially at a time when the veil of Washington is lifting to show the backroom of CEOs without which our “leaders” are as powerless as we, “Fake Empire” takes on a dire significance in retrospect, now almost 18 months after Boxer‘s release.

People: I’m rarely more of a drooling fanboi than when witness to the presence of Matt Berninger’s wrenching vocal delivery. Seriously, I want to turn straight just so I can have a serious bromance with him. The lazy anunciation and reedy smoke-stained timbre drip with a broken masculinity not more pathetically defiant than anyone’s since Leonard Cohen. On “Fake Empire” (and most other songs on this album), the delicately timed syncopations in the vocal line completely lack the standard punch; it’s soaked with disappointment. The dynamics are restricted to barely a mezzo-piano. The vocal melody barely exceeds a fourth, and not once does he attempt to go above the already very low range. Half-awake, indeed. In this corner: Matt Berninger, in a daze, a stupor, already bruised before the match has even begun. This song provides a mere glimpse into the irony of the album’s title; like most of the rest of us, Berninger can sure as hell talk a lot of shit, but you can tell by the tone of his voice that there’s no way he’s actually going to do anything about it.

As in the rest of Boxer, the lyrics work on both a personal level and a political level simultaneously. It’s perhaps the most ingenious lyrical conceit throughout the album, and Berninger pulls it off effortlessly. Berninger’s incessant repetition of words or lines in two evidences the double meanings (“Squalor Victoria, Squalor Victoria,” “standin’ at the punch table swallowing punch,” “Walk away now and you’re gonna start a war” x2, I could go on); we see it here in the repetition of the refrain lyric. Effectively, it’s as though Berninger’s expression of the personal echoes back to take on even broader meaning.

I could go into all the permutations of lyric interpretation here, or you could just go to the lyrics link to songmeanings.net above; perhaps in this case, a democratic smattering of readings will do the layered meanings a more appropriate justice. Well, there is my contribution:

One line that recently has been stunning me in a really oblique way is “It’s hard to keep track of you falling through the sky”. I’m still not quite sure what it means, especially since the grammatical structure is vague — is it “you”, or the singer that’s falling through the sky? Could it be a reference to falling while dreaming, since he’s already said goodnight? And to extend that, could “falling through the sky” be a double-reference to dreaming and living in America — thus saying in an odd way, we are wandering through America in a dream (“half-awake”) state (and thus cannot “keep track” of anything important, whether it’s politicians in the news, or those who we love the most)?

The line is just as crushing on a personal level. How many times have we tried to “ground” ourselves or someone else we love (“keeping track of you”) even though we feel completely out of control over the overall situation (“falling through the sky”)? To boot, the line gains shades extended to the feeling of overall helplessness the common twenty-something has in a deluded, delusional country.

I’m tempted to go into the music behind the man, but I’m even more tempted to leave the more mysterious politics in the back room. You’ll figure it out — won’t you? Me, I’m only half-awake, and something’s telling me to go back to sleep.

“Boy don’t try to front / I-I know just just what you are / ah-ah”

I ain’t gonna front; I’ve played this song at least 4 times already today.  What I want to know, Brit, is just who you be talkin’ to?  I ain’t frontin’: I’m just another gay Britney fan. Just… another… gay…… Britney fan.  Fuck.  Aren’t I supposed to be over this shit?  What is this? “Sounding the alarm”?  Sexy hoochie robot vocals?  The lame synthy distortion with a 2006 sheen?  “S.O.S.” by Rihanna?

Schaffel?

“Too bad for you / You just can’t find the right companion”

But damned if I ain’t gonna try like I used to. This shit makes me want to go back to college and bust out some jello shots with my bitches!  Girls, what’s happenin’?  All my girls and bois, I gotta know, where da clubs at?   This here meditation on the inner-diva slink has Club G.A.Y. written all over it.  Bop, bop, bop, bop, snap, flip… Wait, what were we singing about?

“Womanizer / Woman-Womanizer/ Oh, Womanizer / You’re a womanizer, baby”

Oh, right. Well, it’s not that hard to see what you’re doing, Brit.  Womanizer, woman womanizer, nah nah nah poo poo, womanizer.  Pointing the finger, laying the blame, tattooing someone’s reputation, and faux-flirting with him all at the same time; essentially hollering @ a boy repeatedly with vague irony of objectifying the womanizer.  I can see beyond the front, Britney.  I’ve done all of the above to the prettiest of closet cases. But are we really talking to the same gay boy who doesn’t want to admit how much he likes this song?

“I know what you are / What you are, baby”

This gay boy thought he was done with Britney by “Gimme More”.  Talk about been-there, done-that.  When I say I liked Blackout, it’s in the same way that I had so much fun last night when I was really fucked up — it’s all kind of a blur, but there’s a vague sense of good times had. “Piece of Me” was vaguely cool because Robyn (my very own forrealz socially-deemed-unironically-ok-to-like robot hoochie) co-wrote it and sang backup.  And yeah, “Get Naked (I Got A Plan)” was pretty fucked up.  But really, how many of us were really kidding ourselves with that shit?  The meta semi-irony of Blackout getting a lot of widespread indie cred there was at least a little entertaining; I mean, it was a fun album, but it’s no Britney (bitch).  At least, not the Britney we thought we knew.

Anyways, when it comes down to it, “Womanizer” is a PRODUCT^TM.  The choppy edits, the processed vocals (can we even call them that anymore?), the relentless 18-yo sass. Kinda sounds like the theme to Inspector Gadget.  Oh and the disturbingly trancey aspect of “woman, womanizer” and “ah ah” on spin cycle. Add the makeup, the glitter, the grinding, the fake pole-dancing, the runway-offs with your bitches while this song is playing in the background.  Either I’m dreaming, or this song is campy as shit. And I’m takin’ the bait gladly.  (BTW, I’m glad us gays still have a claim on the market share.  We’re a lucrative bunch!)

Max Martin is on songwriting duties for Circus, and claims his new Britney track is the best work he’s ever done.  In case you’re not aware, that’s setting the stakes pretty fuck-loving high: Martin wrote “As Long As You Love Me” by BSB, “Since U Been Gone” by Kelly, and yes, and perhaps the most classic of classics by Britney, herself… “Lucky” (okay, and “(Hit Me) Baby Me One More Time.” Whatever.) Now, we all know how high the second-Britney-single to first-Britney-single ratio usually is. If “Womanizer” is the “Baby” to “Sometimes,” the “Oops” to “Stronger,” the “Me Against The Music” to “Toxic”… holy fucking shit. This is going to go gay-stronomical.

“I call ‘em when I see ‘em”

I love that there’s already, like, 9 remixes out there already by the way.  Awesome.