Update: The people have spoken. I was wrong and Mrs. Curmudgeon was right. Y’all seem to agree the song is pervy and always was. My idea that it was 51 years ago and we’re just looking at it through jaded, cynical modern eyes is incorrect. Damn… yet another naïve little idea of mine just got poleaxed. I’m kinda’ bummed out about that. Did I mention the trumpets? I should correct my erroneous ways and turn to a more appropriate lifestyle, like watching Cardi B (whoever that is) grind away while barking the lyrics to WAP. Or maybe I’ll strike back! I’ll watch Pepe Le’ Pew cartoons and buy clandestine Dr. Seuss books in a back alley… because I fuckin’ love trumpets!
Today I must briefly interrupt the Squirrels Story to address an issue of contention at Curmudgeon Compound. It has to do with music.
As you might have guessed from a guy who postulates that Swedish Disco harnessed the power of bullshit to facilitate mind control, I like to listen to odd music. I pay attention. Music is powerful shit! I’m always trolling for some obscure song where one or two bars of the hook will set your mind in a certain mood. That’s mind control folks! Perhaps that’s too harsh, it’s a way to set your mind into the mood. For example, anyone with a lick of common sense doesn’t play Pink Floyd at a wedding. That doesn’t mean Pink Floyd is bad… it just means Pink Floyd is ill suited to people in fancy dress performing a marriage ceremony. If you’re in a mood to sit quietly in a beanbag chair drinking shitty wine and pondering the universe…. that’s when you put on Pink Floyd. (As another example, I love playing Sixteen Tons while stacking firewood… yeah that’s some hard core, zero fucks given, work music! Play it at a wedding and the bride will beat you to death.)
Anyway, there’s a song from 1970 I like called Vehicle. (The song is linked below but hear me out before you play it.) Here are the lyrics:
Hey, well, I’m the friendly stranger in the black sedan
Woncha hop inside my car
I got pictures, I got candy, I’m a lovable man
And I can take you to the nearest star
I’m your vehicle, baby
I can take you anywhere you wanna go
I’m your vehicle woman
By that I’m sure you know
I love ya (love ya)
I need ya (need ya)
I wants ya gots to have you child
Great God in heaven, you know I love you
(Oh you know I do)
Well, if you wants to be a movie star
I canna take-a you to Hollywood
But if you wanna stay just like you are
You know, I think you really should
I’m your vehicle, baby
I can take you anywhere you wanna go
I’m your vehicle woman
By that I’m sure you know
I love ya (love ya)
I need ya (need ya)
I wants ya gots to have you child
Great God in heaven, you know I love you
(Oh you know I do)
That’s the whole song. We’re not talking Shakespeare here. Hell they even repeat the first verse after a half assed guitar solo. Why? Because they came up with 119 individual words and then ran out of vocabulary. Fuck it, just repeat verse one and say it with more energy. That’s 1970’s problem solving for dumb songs and I can get behind it. It’s upbeat. It has trumpets.
It. Has. Trumpets!
I like the song. It’s simply oozing with 1970’s upbeat stupid energy. I picture a guy who looks like Shaft. He’s masculine, driving a ridiculously huge hunk of Detroit iron, and wearing the kind of clothes that make you wonder what was in the water in 1970. Sideburns may be involved.
I hear a big booming bass voice of some guy who’s not a modern man-bunned soyboy but maybe not exactly a genius either. He’s just dying to drive his girlfriend around in his car. He thinks she’ll appreciate it. Can you imagine a world so sweet and innocent? He’s extolling his love for this girl. He’s practically kissing the ground beneath her feet.
Hell, this is the kind of dedicated jackass that a modern woman would walk all over. He probably winds up driving his girlfriend at 4am to the airport, hauling all her shit when she moves, and probably has to walk her dog when she’s away on vacation. By 1980, he’ll be living in that car, have pawned the trumpet, and start playing Seattle grunge. But not yet! Right now it’s 1970 and he’s put her ass on a pedestal (see what I did there). It’s a combination of chivalry and Cadillac. He’s so earnest and clueless (by modern standards) that he starts to sound like Don Quixote extolling the virtues of (nonexistent) Dulcinea.
But the singer is playing it to the hilt and there’s not a sniff of the cynicism we take for granted in 2021. He’s just hoping she’ll like him and appreciate free Uber. Why the hell not… he’s a man in the 1970’s baby!
Mrs. Curmudgeon hears the same song and absolutely hates it. The dude’s a perv. He’s a sexist fucknut. He’s basically saying “get in the van bitch, it’s my shaggin’ wagon!” (I have to admit, anyone who has candy is a bit sketchy.) Where I see naivete she damn near sees a rapist.
My theory is that it’s a song from 1970 and we are people in 2021. 51 years of water under the bridge and we can’t see beyond the whole “perv in a van” vibe. She says I need to get out more and quit being weird. I’m like “people were different 50 years ago”. She’s like “dude’s a scumbag”. I’m like “he was probably wearing polyester, allowances must be made.” She’s like “nope, he’s a creep”.
I’ve accepted that Mrs. Curmudgeon is probably right. She’s female and women know creeps. The song never made it to the squirrels story. What’s worse, is that now I can’t see it through earlier eyes. When I listen to it… it has trumpets… now I feel vaguely creepy. Like I just listened to scruffy audio porn. Will all of 1970’s be that way? Am I stupid for thinking this is just some smitten fool trying to impress his girl (or perhaps potential girl) by offering helpful transportation? Was nobody ever that naïve? Was he always a perv? Damn, nothing is ever clear… even if it does have trumpets.
Folks, help me out. Add your two cents in the comments. I gotta’ know if I missed the boat on this song.
Here’s the song:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5emO7EjfIo
P.S. The name of the band is Ides of March. That’s today, March 15th. So now you have two associations with this date; Caesar got stabbed and AC likes a sketchy song from the time of polyester.