I’m one of those guys who almost never actually hears the lyrics to the music that’s playing constantly. Then somebody covers the song in a beautiful-but-ridiculous way, and I finally clue to them.

Example: Tori Amos’ cover of Smells Like Teen Spirit.

Now I hear Alanis’ interpretation of The Black Eyed Peas My Humps, and I realize that, while not meaningless, it’s on par with Lene Alexandra’s current single. Does it make me old to say that bad grammar in lyrics hinders my understanding of them? Here, take a look at the lyrics for Alanis’ version:

I drive these brothers crazy,
I do it on the daily,
They treat me really nicely,
They buy me all these ices.
Dolce & Gabbana,
Fendi and NaDonna
Karan, they be sharin’
All their money got me wearin’ fly

My love, my love, my love, my love
You love my lady lumps,
My hump, my hump, my hump,
My humps they got you,

What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside your trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.

What you gon’ do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I’m gonna make, make, make, make you scream
Make you scream, make you scream.

They say I’m really sexy,
The boys they wanna sex me.
They always standing next to me,
Always dancing next to me,
Tryin’ a feel my hump, hump.
Lookin’ at my lump, lump.
You can look but you can’t touch it,
If you touch it I’ma start some drama,
You don’t want no drama,
No, no drama, no, no, no drama

My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump.
My lovely lady lumps
My lovely lady lumps

She’s got me spendin’.
Spendin’ all your money on me and spending time on me.
She’s got me spendin’.
Spendin’ all your money on me, up on me, on me.

What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside your trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off this hump.

What you gon’ do wit all that breast?
All that breast inside that shirt?
I’ma make, make, make, make you work
Make you work, work, make you work.

I wonder if Coverville knows about this? Yep. (Via.)

Alanis Morissette, Black Eyed Peas, My Humps, cover, lyrics, music, music video, silly, video

I don’t know why it is that I love bad knockoffs of cheap pop, but I do. That’s why, when I heard a folksy rendition of Oops! I Did It Again playing between segments on some NPR program a while ago, I had to go looking for it.

As it turns out, it was Richard Thompson, whose strange sense of humor apparently pops up in his music regularly. You can find his version indexed in Last.fm, but you can’t play it there, and despite the suggestion here, it’s not available as an MP3 download from his site. To hear it, you’ll have to stream it from NPR, or go buying.

Extra: I heard the Richard Thompson cover back in May, but I only remembered it now because KCRWmusic named Toxic, as covered by The Chapin Sisters, their Top Tune recently. Can’t get enough Britney Spears covers? Check out episode 175 of Coverville.

Extra extra: I can’t decide if the best header image for this story would be Britney in wax at Madame Tussaud’s, pretending to do hard math, or just some fan with a Brit photo on his refrigerator in Michigan. Good stuff all.

Britney Spears, cover, covers, Coverville, Oops! I Did It Again, pop, pop music, Richard Thompson, The Chapin Sisters, Toxic

Memepool.com points out that the folks at Supermasterpiece are claiming priority over Britney Spears’ Oops ! I Did It Again. Their story is:

“Oops ! I Did It Again” was recorded in April, 1932 in a Chicago studio, most likely Nearlie’s or West and Fourth. Cut for the Decca label by Louis Armstrong and elemends of Zilner Randolph’s touring group, “Oops!” failed to make the chart impact of “All of Me,” another side recorded in the same session, and soon fell out of print.

The song remained all-but-forgotten until sixty years later when a young Britney Spears sent her interpretation of the Armstrong tune all the way to the top of the charts.

Whether you believe Supermasterpiece’s history or not, they’ve got an MP3 available. And, because I love bad knockoffs of bad pop, I like it.

My wife, on the other hand, is haunted by choruses of bad songs and has difficulty getting them out of her head. It doesn’t help that I watch, and when it appears she might have shaken it off, I whisper in her ear:

Oops!…I did it again?I played with your heart, got lost in the game?Oh baby, baby?Oops!…You think I’m in love?That I’m sent from above?I’m not that innocent

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