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Thursday, May 31, 2012

I'd like to set fire to her pain

Thursday, May 31, 2012 By

I know I'm about to alienate most of my (now-tiny) readership, but I have to admit something that will make me wildly unpopular.
I'm tired of Adele.

Yes, I bought her albums. And I enjoyed them. And Emerson used to sing along with her on the car radio until one day she looked at me with big, Manga eyes and said, "Dis song make me sad, Mama."
Word. Dis song make me sad, too.
Look, I can relate to Adele's music. I own "19" and "21," and I hope that she keeps making music until "99." And I think she's fricking hilarious in interviews. I bet she's super fun to hang with. But I can't listen to her until she changes her tune, so to speak.

Because so much of what she writes (and thank god she writes most of her own songs) is about heart break. She takes every failed conversation in a relationship and picks it apart like zombies to a freshly-killed corpse (y'all thought I'd post an entry without mentioning zombies? It's like you don't even know me). 
Adele wades through her failures.
She wallows in them.
She wails.
Every dang song is about how much she hurts.
Hey, Adele, everybody hurts. But the R.E.M. song "Everybody Hurts" was at least on the same album that gave us "Nightswimming," a song about happy-go-lucky skinny dipping. Balance, baby. You can't kick us in the crotch for 12 songs.
And every song on "21" was about how much Adele's heart hurts. Well, she can just shut up. Because the rest of us - those of us who didn't just buy a freaking English countryside estate on which to burn her exes in effigy, or whatever she does to quell her pain after chasing pavements all day - have to pick up the pieces of our lives and soldier on.
We schedule summer camps and do housework and worry about our jobs, the bills, the attorney's bills, new software, old laundry and the soul-sucking commute into which we willingly entered because we knew, in our hearts, that this situation was the best option for our children.
And then, while I am embroiled in that commute, trying to see out the back of my head for the Morning Asshole who thinks he's going to get to work faster by weaving in and out of traffic without proper signaling, Adele invades my car radio with her searing misery.
Adele. Seriously. Get out of my car. You are bumming me out.
I don't want to roll in the deep, or set fire to the rain, or chase pavements, or find someone like you - because "you" are a liar and a jerk.
So, thanks, Adele, but I'll sing along to something else in my car. For two hours a day. Here's my new Heartbreak-Free Playlist:
  • "I will Survive," Gloria Gaynor
  • "Hit the Road, Jack," Ray Charles
  • "Stronger," Kelly Clarkston
  • "Kiss Off," Violent Femmes
  • "Respect," Aretha Franklin or Otis Redding
  • "Since You've Been Gone," Kelly Clarkston
  • "F*** You," Cee Lo Green
  • "Hate on Me," Jill Scott
  • "Heartless," by The Fray
  • "My Favorite Mistake," Sheryl Crow
  • "These Boots are Made for Walkin'," Nancy Sinatra
  • "That's Life," Frank Sinatra
  • "Song for the Dumped," Ben Folds Five
  • "Outta Me, Into You," Ani DiFranco
  • "Go Your Own Way," Fleetwood Mac
  • "Don't Stop Me Now," Queen
  • "Cry Me a River," Justin Timberlake
  • "Cry Me a River," Diana Krall
  • "Would I Lie to You," Eurythmics
  • "Goodbye Earl," Dixie Chicks
  • "Bye Bye," Jo Dee Messina
  • "Tyrone," Erykah Badu

Totally unrelated: This chart made me laugh.


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