I have a confession to make: I don’t get a lot of music.
When I heard the TI/Justin Timberlake song, “Dead and Gone” on the radio (without knowing the title), I thought the eponymous section of the chorus was about lamenting that “my homie’s dead and gone,” not that “the old me’s dead and gone.” In fact, I would say that I’ve made most of the auditory errors from the Archive of Misheard Lyrics, though I would contend that it’s totally acceptable that one of those songs in question is Manfred Mann’s “Blinded By the Light” – you know what part I mean.
And in no genre do I have more of a problem with this than thrash metal.
Scratch that: I can’t understand any lyrics in a song where the vocals are screamed in a rushed snarl.
And a friend of mine is in a quite awesome band of that exact lyrical group. They play fast and hard and loud (no entendres intended), and they’re actually really good. Well, as good as I can tell from listening to their recorded tracks (they just released a CD) and still having no idea what the lyrics are. So if I can’t understand the music, can I still like it?
Absolutely.
It’s not so much a case of musical elitism or even a generic love of music, but rather recognizing vocals as another instrument used to complete the sound of a song. One of the best-remembered songs from Kill Bill doesn’t really have any lyrics beyond two words. One of the greatest punk songs of all time (and a personal favorite) is in French…I think. Operas are usually in other languages – a lack of understanding the words doesn’t really distract from the piece as a whole.
So if you’re at the concert tonight, you’ll see me down in the front, enjoying the music and nodding my head in appreciation, but not singing along. Because, well, I don’t know the lyrics.
