And we say "so '90s" like it's a baaaaadd thing...
This song has been stuck in my head for the last five days, and I am in no hurry to get it out. Cheesy? Perhaps. Fabulous? Undeniably.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you George Michael's masterpiece, "Too Funky."
Linda Evangelista! The hyper-saturated colours! Over-the-top in every way! George Michael looking simultaneously understated and creepy! The camp! The extravagance! The outfit with the handle bars jutting out at the hips! Tyra Banks, pre- Messiah-complex! Everyone is really flexible!
I was alone and mindlessly humming the lyrics while doing all sorts of odds and ends around the museum (ok, fine, there might have been a bit of dance-walking and strutting involved), completely unaware of the rather risque lyrics, when one of the museum's directors came in. Did I notice? Erm...no. Apparently he was there for quite some time before clearing his throat. Of course, I turned beet- red and flailed around in surprise. At least he wasn't there for the "BABAY BABAY BABAY WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO MEEEE?!" part three-quarters into the song, 'cause that would have been, y'know, clearly unprofessional. This is not the first time I have been caught embarassingly unawares by a complete stranger or by an Important Person, while in the throes of a spontaneous one-person dance party/air vocal routine. It is a problem, I know. But it is also a gift which reminds us of the enduring power of synthesizers, leggings/tights worn as pants, choreographed dance requences and neon-coloured anything. I suspect millions of people, like myself, are scientifically unable to resist the siren song of the '80s/'90s lunch hour' of their local radio stations. Millions more, I'm sure, are debilitated by retro-themed club nights and drinking-in-costume parties. *Cue end of the commercial, with me looking meaningfully at the camera, interpersed with shots of me riding a horse on a beach, frolicking in a field, flying a kite, making eye contact with a cute guy across the street and then smiling knowingly, accidentally walking over a grate with hot air blowing up, and rapping along with Macaulay Culkin in the "Black and White" music video by Michael Jackson.*
I blame nostalgia, or more specifically, nostalgia for a time period I was too young or clueless to actually experience.
Now, back to the danc- - no, back to work.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you George Michael's masterpiece, "Too Funky."
Linda Evangelista! The hyper-saturated colours! Over-the-top in every way! George Michael looking simultaneously understated and creepy! The camp! The extravagance! The outfit with the handle bars jutting out at the hips! Tyra Banks, pre- Messiah-complex! Everyone is really flexible!
I was alone and mindlessly humming the lyrics while doing all sorts of odds and ends around the museum (ok, fine, there might have been a bit of dance-walking and strutting involved), completely unaware of the rather risque lyrics, when one of the museum's directors came in. Did I notice? Erm...no. Apparently he was there for quite some time before clearing his throat. Of course, I turned beet- red and flailed around in surprise. At least he wasn't there for the "BABAY BABAY BABAY WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO MEEEE?!" part three-quarters into the song, 'cause that would have been, y'know, clearly unprofessional. This is not the first time I have been caught embarassingly unawares by a complete stranger or by an Important Person, while in the throes of a spontaneous one-person dance party/air vocal routine. It is a problem, I know. But it is also a gift which reminds us of the enduring power of synthesizers, leggings/tights worn as pants, choreographed dance requences and neon-coloured anything. I suspect millions of people, like myself, are scientifically unable to resist the siren song of the '80s/'90s lunch hour' of their local radio stations. Millions more, I'm sure, are debilitated by retro-themed club nights and drinking-in-costume parties. *Cue end of the commercial, with me looking meaningfully at the camera, interpersed with shots of me riding a horse on a beach, frolicking in a field, flying a kite, making eye contact with a cute guy across the street and then smiling knowingly, accidentally walking over a grate with hot air blowing up, and rapping along with Macaulay Culkin in the "Black and White" music video by Michael Jackson.*
I blame nostalgia, or more specifically, nostalgia for a time period I was too young or clueless to actually experience.
Now, back to the danc- - no, back to work.