Ain't that Mister Mister?

Okay, here’s why I hate Train.

And first let me define “hate”. Because there are levels there. I hate train so much that I was driving in the desert with their first big CD playing on my car stereo. I suddenly went from loving Train, to such a level of loathing that I hit eject, whipped that puppy out of the stereo and with one sweeping motion flung it out the window with such force that it soared like a toxic Frisbee into Sonoran night. Whaaaa-paaaaah! I hate Train so much that I littered. Where I should have taken only pictures and left only footprints, I deposited that horrible, horrible CD. At this very moment there could be an innocent coyote choking on Meet Virginia.

That, my friend, is hate.

Why? Their new song Hey, Soul Sister is a perfect example. Their stuff is catchy as hell. It’s been used in 3 TV shows that I’ve counted so far. It’s a monster hit on the hippy radio station. Within 3 notes, that song will have you singing along and butt dancing in the car. Catchy as hell. It is the lite rock version of Brick House. 20 years from now, it will be played at weddings, and all of the women in the room will rush the dance floor so that they can form a big circle, throw all their handbags in the middle and start “dance like no one’s watching” while giving each other knowing looks and saying “Ah, yeah, girl. I love this song. Wooooo!”

And yet . . . within the lyrics, which are clever, kitschy and evocative, and have the same communicability of the Ebola virus, is contained the phrase “your lipstick stains on the front lobe of my left side brains.” Okay, first, as far as images go – gross. What is he, dating a zombie? Second, it does not scan. Yeah, yeah, I get meter and rhyme. And I do make the occasional allowance. For 12-year olds. But for a guy who makes a living putting words to music, that’s just lazy. Then to take that failure to grammatically launch, and attach it to a hook that is sunk into the front lobe of my left side brains (see? I can be gross too), so that it repeats over and over again in my head? That’s just cruel. If that song was 20% less catchy, and I wasn’t paying attention to the lyrics so that I could accompany my butt dancing with vocals, I wouldn’t have even noticed. But I did notice. And now it won’t go away. Grrrrrrr!

And that is why I hate Train.