Author: Zögernd

Musings on music.

Let’s talk about stalk rock

Singers love to declare it and audiences love to hear it: I would do anything for love, I would die for love, my love is purer and more powerful than the love those other chumps have to offer. This kind of overflowing adoration can be seen in a positive light if the person in its path is inclined to be swept off their feet.

Or even, as it turns out, if they’re not.

It comes as a shock to many of us when we realize that “Every Breath You Take” is not actually a gentle love ballad suitable for weddings. Instead, in the words of its writer, Sting, it’s a “fairly nasty song” about “surveillance and ownership and jealousy.”1

Plenty of other songs describe — even valorize — such potentially harmful perspectives and actions. But only rarely is this acknowledged. Like the signature hit from the Police, they tend to strike the ear as torch songs. 

Case in point: Dave Matthews’ Band’s wistfully horny “Crash Into Me” (1996), which is sung from the perspective of a peeping tom (“Oh I watch you there through the window and I stare at you / You wear nothing but you wear it so well”). The song features prominently in the 2017 film “Lady Bird.” When writer/director Greta Gerwig wrote Matthews a letter to get his blessing, she described “Crash Into Me” as “the most romantic song ever” (emphasis in original).

Songs like this — which we think of as sheep when really they are more like wolves — make up the subgenre of stalk rock.

To be clear, stalk rock songs aren’t necessarily about stalking. But they include, intentionally or unintentionally, explicit descriptions of stalking behavior. I’ve identified about 100 such songs. Undoubtedly there are more.

For the purposes of this essay, I’m defining stalking behavior as persistent, nonconsensual attention. By nonconsensual, I mean that the person being paid the attention either doesn’t want it or isn’t aware of it. The object of this attention may be a former lover, an acquaintance, or even a complete stranger.

The attention can take a variety of forms, ranging from covert surveillance to overt confrontation — up to and including murder. Whatever the specifics, these are actions that violate the expectation of privacy, anonymity, and safety to which everyone ought to be entitled.

Examples range from Taylor Swift’s seemingly innocent “You Belong With Me” (where the narrator refers to driving by her love interest’s house late and night and waiting outside his back door) to Blue October’s depraved “The End” (where the narrator spies on and kills his ex-wife and her new lover before turning the gun on himself).

With a few notable exceptions, stalk rock songs are narrated from the perspective of the perpetrator. Take for instance the deceptive “big bad wolf” who tries to entice a “little big girl” in “Lil’ Red Riding Hood” by Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs (1966). But only rarely do these characters have clear-cut malicious intent. On the contrary, they often cast themselves as tragic heroes. They are unable to achieve love for a variety of reasons, from their own shyness to their love interest’s intransigence.

In most cases the rhetorical framework of a stalk rock song is apostrophe, where the narrator addresses an absent person. These are the things the narrator wishes they could say to the object of their desire.

Stalk rock songs inhabit the space where selfish fixation blurs into senseless obsession. In each case the narrator crosses a line — and implicitly threatens to cross more. Rarely does the narrator acknowledge any wrongdoing. When they do, they brush it aside.

Compared to the voices of men, the voices of women are heard in a significantly smaller portion of stalk rock songs. Women are far more likely than men to be stalked.2 However, stalk rock songs are far less likely to be written by women, performed by women, or told from women’s perspectives.

In general, stalk rock is characterized by three kinds of misunderstanding:

One, it describes harmful interpersonal behavior that has long been misunderstood — though educational institutions and health organizations are working to raise awareness about stalking and its negative impacts.

Two, it elevates the perspectives of people who often feel misunderstood — including those with intense social inhibitions and those whose erratic behaviors frighten past or potential love interests.

Three, it is frequently misunderstood by its audience — listeners who hear love songs rather than something more troubling.

Overabundance of emotion

Although thankfully it seems to be fading in the modern day, there has long been a notion that an excess of emotion can excuse or legitimize extreme behavior. In this respect, stalk rock might be related to the murder ballad, a tradition reaching back centuries.

In one example circa 1854, California schoolteacher J.B. Crane kills a student after she refuses to marry him. As Crane is about to be hanged by vigilantes, he sings: 

I killed Susan Newham as you have heard tell,
I killed her because that I loved her too well.
Now Susan and I will soon meet at the throne,
And be united forever in the life to come.3

The murder ballad tradition continues in modern pop music. In the example most relevant to this discussion, Tom Jones’s “Delilah” (1968), the narrator skulks outside his lover’s house, catches her cheating, and stabs her to death.

At break of day when that man drove away I was waiting
I crossed the street to her house and she opened the door
She stood there laughing
I felt the knife in my hand and she laughed no more

How is the listener meant to perceive the characters in this story? Are we supposed to be sympathetic toward the narrator because he’s been wronged? Are we inclined to believe that Delilah got what she deserved? (After all, she’s named after one of the Bible’s most treacherous women.) The schizophrenic musical accompaniment invites conflicting interpretations. The staccato verses sound like Bernard Herrmann’s score for the famous shower scene in “Psycho” (1960), while the lilting choruses evoke the sensitive masculinity of Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass.

A larger question is why these songs — which seem to celebrate such reprehensibility — exist in the first place. Perhaps their creators wanted to exorcise negative thoughts. Perhaps they thought a story about extreme feelings would be compelling. Perhaps they never thought about it that hard. Below we’ll see examples potentially fitting each of these scenarios.

A similar spectrum of awareness may be inferred on the part of the listener. Perhaps stalk rock resonates with those of us who have secretly kept tabs on a crush or lapsed into detective mode after a breakup. Or perhaps, rather than scrutinize the lyrics, we absorb only impressions of meaning.

Enforcement of fidelity

Unlike “Delilah,” most stalk rock does not go as far as murder. But there are many examples in the genre of perpetrators attempting to enforce their lover’s fidelity.

This concept turns up in “Silhouettes” by the Rays, a doo-wop number from 1957. Here the narrator believes he’s caught his lover cheating after seeing the shadow of an embracing couple on a window shade. Turns out he had the wrong house. But why was he snooping around in the first place?

In “The Rain” by Oran “Juice” Jones (1986), the jealous narrator follows his lover and sees her meeting another man. The song proper is melancholy, but there’s a long spoken outro where the narrator almost gleefully puts his lover in her place. He reveals that he thought about shooting her and her new beau (“My first impulse was to run up on you and do a Rambo, whip out the jammy and flat-blast both of you”). But in the end Juice’s character simply tells his faithless lover to get lost.

Daryl Hall and John Oates’ 1981 hit “Private Eyes,” is jaunty and playful as its pun of a title demands. But its lyrics are all about keeping a lover in line. As Hall’s character explains, “I’m a spy but on your side, you see.” 

This stalker-knows-best idea is picked up again in Death Cab for Cutie’s “I Will Possess Your Heart” (2008). Songwriter Ben Gibbard’s character passes by his love interest’s window, staring at his own reflection. He sings: 

How I wish you could see the potential
The potential of you and me
It’s like a book elegantly bound
But in a language that you can’t read just yet

As Kate Russell points out in Pop Matters, “Not only is Death Cab for Cutie stalking somebody, but they’re also telling her that she’s just too insipid to understand their love for her.”4 Indeed, in the world of stalk rock, devotion goes hand in hand with disdain.

“Weird Al” Yankovic’s “Melanie” (1988) pokes fun at this sentiment: “I’m certain that our love would last forever and ever / Or are you too dumb to realize that?” In the end, Yankovic’s overwrought character kills himself — but continues to profess his love from beyond the grave.

Lack of resolution

While stalk rock songs run the gamut stylistically, one thing most of them have in common is an unfinished story. Songs like “Silhouettes,” “Delilah,” and “The Rain” — all of which have a narrative beginning, middle, and end — are in the minority. Roughly 75% of the songs I’ve surveyed do not describe any dramatic resolution. They are vignettes rather than feature films.

A prime example is Tyler Farr’s “Redneck Crazy,” a No. 2 country hit from 2013. It sounds like a pensive power ballad, but the lyrics are about a revenge fantasy that plays over and over in the narrator’s mind, never to be executed:

I’m gonna aim my headlights into your bedroom windows
Throw empty beer cans at both of your shadows
I didn’t come here to start a fight
But I’m up for anything tonight
You know you broke the wrong heart, baby

The music video for “Redneck Crazy” shows Farr and his hunting buddies creeping up on his ex and her new guy. No weapons are shown, and in the end they only toiletpaper her house. But the threat of violence is obvious.

In contrast, a significant portion of stalk rock songs have a determined air. Some are upbeat or even joyous. They are like projections of confidence — pep talks the narrators give themselves.

Daddy Cool’s “Come Back Again” (1971) has an easygoing bounce and catchy refrain that initially obscure the fact that its narrator follows his ex-girlfriend and harasses her parents. The song begins and ends with the same couplet, suggesting that the narrator’s actions will continue in a vicious cycle.

I’m mopin’ around the streets late at night
Worried because you ain’t treatin’ me right

Frustrating though it may be, this state of suspension has its advantages. The protagonists’ love can’t be requited, but neither can it be rejected definitively. Nor can there be any other consequences for the stalker — the police have not yet arrived. Most important, this suspension ensures that the object of desire stays objectified forever. They never have a say. Their voice never figures into the stalker-protagonist’s narrative.

Voices of experience

Although they are in the minority, some of the most famous and most powerful songs in stalk rock are written by women who have been on the receiving end of stalking.5

Blondie’s “One Way or Another” (1978) was inspired by singer Debbie Harry’s experiences being stalked by an ex-boyfriend. Where most stalk rock lyrics offer only one perspective, “One Way or Another” is one of a handful narrated by both the perpetrator and the victim. The teasing tone of “One Way or Another” is at odds with its serious subject matter, and Harry said years later that this was deliberate:

I tried to inject a little bit of levity into it to make it more lighthearted. I think in a way that’s a normal kind of survival mechanism. You know, just shake it off, say one way or another, and get on with your life. Everyone can relate to that and I think that’s the beauty of it.6

Stalking was a bit of a preoccupation for Blondie: “Accidents Never Happen” (1979) describes one person following another in order to stage a chance encounter, while Blondie’s frantic cover of the Nerves’ “Don’t Leave Me Hanging on the Telephone” (1976) involves incessant phone calls. 

Lisa Germano, who has described being stalked for years by a fan, takes a decidedly darker approach. In “A Psychopath” (1994), she describes a continuous state of fear and helplessness:

A baseball bat, a baseball bat, beside my bed
I’ll wait around and wait around, and wait
I hear a noise, I hear a noise, well I hear something
I am alone, you win again, I’m paralyzed

The music is intercut with a 911 recording from a woman who pleads for help as an intruder breaks into her home. As Germano explained in an interview:

The reason I wanted to put [the 911 call] on it was because a lot of people, when you’re being stalked or you’re being harassed by a man, they don’t take it seriously. You know, they say, “Oh, you’re just being paranoid.” It’s like they don’t know what it feels like to try to go to sleep every night with that fear, and the 911 call is the exact fear that you have when you’re going to sleep. You’re not scared that he’s just going to hang around your house; you’re afraid that he’s going to get in your house and you’re going to get raped, like she got raped at the end of that call.7

Areas of ambiguity

Cataloging this genre took considerable time and deliberation. I’m indebted to several other netizens who have assembled stalk rock playlists, including the many contributors to the exhaustive Stalker With a Crush list at TV Tropes.

While I tried to make my own list comprehensive, I also strove to keep it rigorous. Those other lists include a lot of red herrings — songs about overheated attraction that do not explicitly describe stalking behaviors. One song you’ll find on other lists, but not here, is “I’m Gonna Make You Love Me” (1968), on which Diana Ross & The Supremes collaborated with The Temptations. While the title does come on strong, there’s no coercion suggested in the lyrics. In another example, Radiohead’s Thom Yorke has said “Creep” (1993) is about a stalker, though the lyrics do not describe any inappropriate actions.

Drawing a fine line between aggressive courtship and stalking can be difficult. As such, several potential stalk rock songs inhabit a gray area.

Take the Marvelettes’ “Hunter Gets Captured by the Game” (1967). The lyrics are propelled by imagery of animal predators, but they seem to describe nothing more sinister than two people being into each other. One couplet, however, could be concerning if taken literally:

Secretly I been tailing you like a fox that preys on a rabbit
Had to get you and so I knew I had to learn your ways and habits

It’s one thing to figure out when your crush hangs out at the coffeeshop so you can be there at the same time. It’s another thing to gather evidence like a private investigator would.

Similarly murky is the domain of unanswered phone calls. The lovelorn often feel compelled to call repeatedly, even if they’re being ignored. At some point their persistence may cross into harassment, but it’s hard to judge where the boundary lies.

A stalking awareness campaign at the University of Oklahoma in 2016 highlighted song lyrics that “demonstrate how aspects of popular media could be interpreted to normalize unhealthy relationship behaviors.”8 One of the songs singled out was “Hello,” Adele’s hit from the previous year, in which the narrator apostrophizes a former lover:

Hello from the other side
I must’ve called a thousand times
To tell you I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done
But when I call, you never seem to be home

In Rubblebucket’s infectious “Save Charlie” (2013), singer Kalmia Traver describes a similar scenario:

Don’t know why our love is crazy
Hearing voices, your wolves raised me
Fifteen missed calls, can you blame me?
Charlie, be real, do you love me?

I can’t necessarily blame her, though Charlie may feel differently. Whether the missed calls number 15 or 1,000, only the recipient is qualified to object. However, they may not feel empowered to do so, as Gwen Stefani describes in No Doubt’s rollicking “Spiderwebs” (1995):

You’re intruding on what’s mine
And you’re taking up my time
Don’t have the courage inside me
To tell you, “Please let me be”

Whether or not the previous examples qualify as stalk rock is ambiguous. But the next one clearly crosses a line. “Until You Come Back to Me (That’s What I’m Gonna Do)” was written and recorded by Stevie Wonder in 1967, but went unreleased for a decade. Aretha Franklin had a hit with it in 1973, and it has been covered by several other artists since then.

The song’s narrator is undeterred by unanswered phone calls, telling her former lover she will “rap on your door,” “tap on your window pane,” and “camp by your steps” until he resumes their relationship. The upbeat musical accompaniment on Franklin’s version works to portray this as the righteous persistence of a woman in love. In reality these actions would be grounds for a restraining order. Perhaps we can forgive teenage Stevie for thinking that camping out on a love interest’s steps is acceptable behavior. But what was 31-year-old Aretha’s excuse?

Superficial treatments

We have seen how writers of stalk rock songs mistake harmful behaviors for expressions of love. There are also cases in which songwriters deal more deliberately with stalking, but still fail to grasp its seriousness.

Especially puzzling is a thumping club track from 2011 by the German group Cascada, straightforwardly titled “Stalker.” Here the stalking seems to be more figurative than literal, used to illustrate the intensity of the narrator’s infatuation: “You got me feeling like a stalker / 24/7 I’ma call ya … I’ll follow you into the night, night, night / I’ll never let you out of my sight, sight, sight.” These lines are problematic enough if taken at face value. But even if they are just imagery in service of a song about a crush, they trivialize the very real dangers of stalking.

Country artist Jimmy Rankin’s “Followed Her Around” (2001) is the only song I’ve found in which the narrator expresses regret for having stalked someone. But this regret is centered on the belief that he behaved foolishly. There is no consideration of how his actions may have affected the person he stalked.

“Followed Her Around” is narrated by someone “old and wise” reflecting on his youthful naïvete. As a young man he engaged in stalking “Despite the stories I’d been told” and warnings from his mother. The object of his desire, possibly an ex-girlfriend, is described sowing her wild oats.

I watched her from afar
That pretty flower in mid-bloom
Oh how that girl could work a bar
As she waltzed around the room
I couldn’t take it anymore
Tried to get her out the door
One more time she shot me down
Since I followed her around

The song certainly captures the anger and disbelief that accompany romantic rejection. But it also positions stalking as a rite of passage. “Followed Her Around” concludes with the older narrator’s suspicion that his own son is stalking someone. The narrator doesn’t seek to caution his son, as the narrator was cautioned by his mother. Instead he implies that stalking is something his son will just have to get out of his system.

Goldfinger’s “Stalker,” a smirking pop-punk tune from 2005, describes a woman peeping through the narrator’s windows, opening his mail, and ultimately being arrested. The narrator seems more flattered than frightened, as the song concludes with a refrain of “I wanna marry my stalker.”

It’s certainly possible for a stalkee to have complicated feelings toward their stalker. The recent Netflix series “Baby Reindeer” explores in unflinching detail how one might grow accustomed to, and even become dependent on, all that attention. Goldfinger’s examination, on the other hand, is superficial at best.

Nashville songwriter Dennis Linde’s “What’ll You Do About Me” is sung from the perspective of someone who believes a one-night stand constitutes a long-term commitment. Enraged that his hookup doesn’t want to see him again, the narrator fantasizes about laying siege to her house.

What in the world are you plannin’ to do
When a man comes over just to visit with you
And I’m on the porch with a 2-by-2

The song was recorded by several country artists including Steve Earl and Randy Travis. But it wasn’t until Doug Supernaw released a version in 1994 that “What’ll You Do About Me” cracked the top 20 on the Hot County Singles chart. This turned out to be a terrible time for the song to be in the spotlight. 

Its rise coincided with the O.J. Simpson trial, where the former football star and actor stood accused of murdering his wife and her friend. “What’ll You Do About Me” seemed to condone domestic violence at the very moment that topic was dominating the national conversation. Separately, a radio station in Terre Haute, Indiana, banned the song after a local woman was killed by a stalker.9 Supernaw’s record label eventually dropped him.10

“What a disappointment,” Supernaw told a reporter the following year. “I thought it was a fun, tongue-in-cheek song. I never dreamed it was so politically incorrect.”11

Inadvertent inclusions

While some artists struggle to articulate a meaningful statement about stalking, others stumble into stalk rock entirely by accident.

The extreme level of commitment described in “I Will Follow Him” by Peggy March (1963) brings out the title’s unintended connotations. Remarkably, the song predates the “overly attached girlfriend” meme by half a century.

The Def Leppard power ballad “Two Steps Behind” (1992) purports to be about a guy who wants his ex to know he’ll always be with her in spirit. But in a literal reading of the lyrics, the narrator hovers like a chaperone, or something worse.

Walk away if you want to
It’s OK if you need to
You can run, but you can never hide
From the shadow that’s creeping up beside you

Similarly, “I’ll Be There” by the Jackson 5 and “Reach Out, I’ll Be There” by the Four Tops, which are both about being supportive romantic partners, include outro ad-libs about looking over one’s shoulder, taking the metaphor a little too far.

The writers of “Turn Around, Look at Me” by the Vogues (1966) can’t possibly have intended for its lyrics to be taken literally, but there’s no denying their creepiness: “There is someone walking behind you. … There is someone watching your footsteps.”

“You Can’t Change That” by Raydio (1979) is another example of a metaphor gone too far. Songwriter Ray Parker Jr. wanted to say that his love was unshakable. Carrying this idea to its extreme, he sings:

You can change your telephone number
And you can change your address too
But you can’t stop me from loving you

Clay Aiken’s “Invisible” (2003) earnestly envisions the fantasy of observing without being observed. Aiken’s character is too shy to make direct contact with the object of his desire. He imagines invisibility would allow him to overcome his inhibitions and get close. By definition, however, that would defeat his stated goal: to “make you see that I’m alive.” Meanwhile the song tries to ignore the corrupt tendency of this particular superpower — one that any schoolboy can appreciate.

Attempts at humor

Weird Al isn’t the only one who finds humor in stalking. A number of entries in the genre poke fun at stalkers. Unlike their more serious counterparts, they don’t valorize stalking. Instead they depict it as misguided but ultimately harmless.

Wisconsin schtick-punk band Masked Intruder have several songs in this vein. Perhaps they’re meant to lampoon line-crossing love songs like those discussed above. But they’re also curiously sanitized given the band’s criminal personae. There’s seemingly no recognition that real-life masked intruders have been known to physically and/or sexually assault women in their homes.

A 2012 interview with the alternative weekly Isthmus is telling. Referring to the song “ADT Security,” in which the narrator is foiled trying to follow his love interest into her home, reporter Scott Gordon asks, “At what point should a person just give up?” Intruder Blue (guitar and vocals) responds: 

Well, we’re very romantic guys. If you see, like, a movie, what a girl wants is for you to never stop. Show up at her house with a boom box, play her songs, and late at night, just write her poetry, and leave her presents all the time.12

Trenchcoated pervert Willard McVane makes nightly lewd calls to a stranger in Ray Stevens’s “It’s Me Again, Margaret” (1984). The lyrics bring the story to a resolution with the police tracing Willard’s calls and arresting him. But the music video undoes this ending but having Margaret bail him out.

InsideOut’s “The Stalking Song” (1999) is a Yankovian spoof of a familiar late-’60s hit by the Turtles. Here the lighthearted a cappella treatment seems to defang the threat:

I’ve got your cat, don’t be alarmed
As long as you come talk to me, he won’t be harmed
We’ll go and get a bite to eat, I’ll come unarmed
So happy together

Unexplored possibilities

Singers love to proclaim the intensity, the inevitability, the incontrovertibility of their love. But where are the songs about respecting boundaries, about taking no for an answer, about resisting our basest self-serving impulses?

Granted, songs about a level-headed and considerate approach to romance are unlikely to be radio-friendly unit-shifters. But while there may not be much of a market for them, there’s nothing saying they shouldn’t be written.

Meanwhile, songs from the stalkee’s perspective remain vanishingly rare. Those that do exist often convey a feeling of powerlessness — like “Snow White Queen” by Evanescence (2006). Where are the songs whose narrators feel empowered? “Bug-A-Boo” by Destiny’s Child (1999), with lyrics that directly denounce stalking behavior, could be a model.

It’s not hot that when I’m blockin’ your phone number you call me over your best friend’s house
And it’s not hot that I can’t even go out with my girlfriends without you trackin’ me down
You need to chill out with that mess
’Cause you can’t keep havin’ me stressed
’Cause every time my phone rings it seems to be you and I’m prayin’ that it is someone else

“Bug-A-Boo” is an outlier with no imitators that I have found. There are a few possible explanations for this. The song only climbed as high as 33 on the Billboard Hot 100. Also, lyrical details like pagers and AOL firmly root the song in the ’90s and rob it of the timelessness it could have had. Lastly, the music video for “Bug-A-Boo” undercuts the message of its lyrics. While Beyoncé and co. spend most of the video avoiding four suitors who tail them in a convertible, they all climb into the car in the end.

Like the behaviors it describes, stalk rock isn’t going away. However, songwriters have the opportunity to reshape the genre with entries that call out harmful behaviors and elevate the voices of those who experience it.

Notes

  1. Connelly, Christopher. “Alone at the Top.” Rolling Stone, 1 March 1984, p. 17. ProQuest. Web. 21 March 2024. ↩︎
  2. About 1 in 3 women experience stalking at some point in their lives, as compared to about 1 in 6 men, according to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. See “The National Intimate Partnerand Sexual Violence Survey: 2016/2017 Report on Stalking.” ↩︎
  3. Olive Woolley Burt, “American Murder Ballads and Their Stories” (New York: Oxford University Press, 1958, p. 177-178). ↩︎
  4. Russell, Kate. “Top 12 most likely songs to be on your stalker’s playlist.” Pop Matters, 24 April 2013. Online: https://www.popmatters.com/170681-stalkers-playlist-2495762196.html. Accessed 5 July 2024. ↩︎
  5. Quite a few songs exist about the phenomenon of celebrity stalking. However, these are outside the scope of this essay. ↩︎
  6. Anderson, Kyle. “Blondie’s Debbie Harry tells the stories behind hits old and new.” Entertainment Weekly, 20 September 2011. Online: https://ew.com/article/2011/09/20/blondie-debbie-harry-stories-behind-the-songs/. Accessed 7 July 2024. ↩︎
  7. Efdee, Emiel. “The Muse interview with Lisa Germano.” 29 October 1995. Online: http://www.evo.org/4ad-faq/artists/germano-lisa/muse-interview.txt. Accessed 7 July 2024. ↩︎
  8. Falzone, Diana. “Does Adele’s hit ‘Hello’ normalize sexual harassment?” Fox News, 5 February 2016. Online: https://www.foxnews.com/entertainment/does-adeles-hit-hello-normalize-sexual-harassment. Accessed 7 July 2024. ↩︎
  9. “Station bans song after death.” Fort Myers News-Press. May 30, 1995. pp. 4A. Retrieved March 1, 2020. ↩︎
  10. Jack Hurst. “BNA drops Doug Supernaw over ‘stalking song.’” The Chicago Tribune. p. 10C. 16 March 1995. Retrieved March 1, 2020. ↩︎
  11. Caviness, Crystal. “Supernaw stays on path.” UPI Archive: Entertainment, 29 Sept. 1995. Gale General OneFile, link.gale.com/apps/doc/A441261840/ITOF?u=mlin_b_bpublic&sid=bookmark-ITOF&xid=3dca2ca1. Accessed 1 Nov. 2024. ↩︎
  12. Gordon, Scott. “Masked Intruder mix pop-punk and lawbreaking.” Isthmus. 1 March 2012. Online: https://isthmus.com/arts/music/masked-intruder-mix-pop-punk-and-lawbreaking/. Accessed 9 Nov. 2024. ↩︎

Lowest Common Denominator

First in a series of three

The Lowes are a musical family.

My parents met as college music majors in a city called Lowell (we can ignore the unnecessary extra Ls). Both are still making music over 50 years later. They passed a considerable amount of their musical tastes onto me, and encouraged my youthful explorations of guitar and bass. I keep exploring, youthfully, to this day. Meanwhile, my own children are into music I like, and one of them is getting pretty good at singing and playing the flute.

But the legacy of music in the Lowe family goes back much further and reaches much wider than that.

In England in the 1600s, Edward Lowe played organ at Christ Church Cathedral and taught music at the University of Oxford. In Germany some 200 years later, conductor Ferdinand Löwe popularized the works of Anton Bruckner. Meanwhile, soprano Sophie Löwe toured Europe, feuded with Giuseppe Verdi, and married a prince. Other premodern ancestors composed works that are still performed today.

In the 20th and 21st centuries, Lowes have recorded certified pop hits, written Broad­way showstoppers, and led world-class symphony orchestras. Some are subgenre giants, and more than a few toil in relative obscurity.

Even those outside the family pay homage to the Lowes through ensemble names like the Low Anthem and song titles like “Lowdown.”

This legacy is reflected in a three-disc anthology, titled “Lowest Common Denominator,” that I gave as a Christmas gift to relatives and friends. To orient their listening, deepen their appreciation, and pique their curiosity, I included a booklet with short biographical sketches of the artists and songs. Selections from Disc One follow. Subsequent installments will appear on this blog over the course of 2025.

Low Rider | War

What better place to start? Everybody knows this No. 1 hit from 1975 — its unmistakable sax/harmonica/xylophone melody, its undeniable groove, its understated vocals. War was a southern California band ensconced in the Chicano culture of the time, where pavement-scraping hot rods were all the rage. “Low Rider” makes a great nickname for anybody with our surname, as demonstrated by Mr. Hill, my ninth-grade Earth science teacher.

Beautiful Song | Horsegirl

Can you believe some teenagers from Chicago got Sonic Youth alum Lee Ranaldo to play on this track from their debut? (Steve Shelly also turns up on the album’s closer.) Singer and guitarist Penelope Lowenstein was 18 when this album dropped in 2022. Keep your eyes peeled for her younger brother Isaac, who appears elsewhere in this collection.

Diggy Liggy Lo | Doug & Rusty Kershaw

Given that Lo is not a traditional French appellation, this song’s eponymous hero probably has it only because it’s the last possible rhyme to go with fais do-do, the kind of Cajun dance party where this song would be played; cold and chaud, which respectively describe the ideal temperatures of pop and coffee; and beau, which our hero is to our heroine; as well as show, flow, and know.

Luchini AKA This Is It | Camp Lo

Just try to resist these breathless, cryptic verses and the scintillating soul sample that underpins them. Although they emerged from the mid-’90s Bronx, this rap duo was decidedly not gangsta. Costumed like characters from ’70s blaxploitation films, they aspired to a higher class of criminality — international diamond theft. Their name is derived from cee-lo, a dice game of Chinese origin. In this context, “lo” (六) stands for the number six.

Further reading: Patrick Rivers and Will Fulton. “Uptown Saturday Night” (33⅓, No. 125). New York: Bloomsbury, 2017.

Florinnan laulu | Jussi Makkonen (cello), Nazig Azeziani (piano)

There’s a Finnish fairy tale about a prince who turns into a bluebird. A 2019 book, “Lintu Sininen,” retells the story with an accompanying CD of music composed by Jonne Valtonen. Supporting the soloists is the Vassa City Orchestra, conducted by James Lowe. Originally from England, James is now music director of the Spokane Symphony in Washington state, and divides his time between there and Scotland.

Son | Rosie Lowe & Duval Timothy

Here’s a weird and interesting project from two English musical collaborators. Vocalist Rosie (b. 1989) has a number of downbeat R&B records under her belt. Duval, who also works in visual arts, provided multiple piano instrumentals for Kendrick Lamar’s latest album.

West End Girls | Pet Shop Boys

Reserved keyboardist Chris Lowe (b. 1959) founded this London synth-pop duo with attention-seeking singer Neil Tenant. This is probably their best-known song, and it was a No. 1 hit in the U.K. and U.S. in 1986.

Peek-A-Boo | Trunino Lowe

The freshest release on this anthology comes from a young Detroit trumpeter whose debut as a bandleader dropped in 2023. It’s mostly hard-charging bebop, with a little detour into freeform electronics and a hip-hop coda. Nino’s band on this record features Jonathon Muir-Cotton on bass, Sequoia “Redwood” Snyder on keyboards, Louis Jones III on drums, and Jeffrey Trent on saxophones.

Get Me to the World on Time | The Electric Prunes

When he wasn’t working the graveyard shift x-raying rocket engines for a defense contractor, Thaddeus James Lowe (b. 1943) fronted this 1960s psychedelic rock band from LA. James went on to be an audio engineer and producer for Todd Rundgren and Sparks. Annette Tucker, who co-wrote many of the Prunes’ songs with various lyricists, has acknowledged the title of this selection is a reference to “Get Me to the Church on Time” from the musical “My Fair Lady.” That song is included in this collection too, for reasons that will become clear later.

Without Blame | Ismaël Lô

This 1996 curiosity was written by Pink Floyd’s Roger Waters. Senegalese singer and guitarist Ismaël (b. 1956) begins, in French, “All women are queens.” British invasion star Marianne Faithfull continues, in English, “But some are more regal than others.”

Geld macht den wahren Reichtum nicht | La Protezione della Musica

This is a piece by Johann Jacob Löwe von Eisenach (1629–1703), a German baroque composer, organist, and court conductor. Its title translates as “Money Does Not Create True Wealth.” Johann studied in Dresden with Heinrich Schütz, generally regarded as the most important German composer before J.S. Bach. For the final two decades of his life, Johann was church organist at St. Nicolai in (where else?) Lüneburg.

It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World | James Brown

Sammy Lowe (1918–1993) has a handful of recording credits as a trumpeter. But his main gig was as an arranger and conductor — on this No. 1 hit for the Godfather of Soul, as well as on other tunes by Nina Simone, Sam Cooke, and more.

Hope Lingers On | Low Lily

This folk trio hails from Brattleboro, Vermont, and put out this recording in 2018. “Hope Lingers On,” was written by fiddler Lissa Schneckenberger, who has since left the group. According to the band’s website, it “has been sung by choirs around the world as an anthem for peace and justice.”

The Ballad of Curtis Loew | Lynyrd Skynyrd

Curtis, “the finest picker to ever play the blues,” is a composite of people from singer Ronnie Van Zandt’s hometown, Jacksonville, Florida. The band played this song live only once before the 1977 plane crash that killed Ronnie and five others. Phish has been performing it ever since 1987.

All Africans (Don’t Cross the Nation) | Little Roy

Born in 1953 as Earl Lowe, this lesser-known reggae singer worked with some of the greats. The 1970 seven-inch on which this track first appeared was misattributed to Bob Marley & The Wailers, though it does indeed feature Peter Tosh and Bunny Wailer on guitar and kette drum. It was produced by Lee “Scratch” Perry. Check out Little Roy’s 2011 cover of Nirvana’s “Come As You Are.”

Ex-Wives | Six

The musical “Six,” written by Toby Marlow and Lucy Moss, recasts Henry VIII’s wives as contestants in a modern-day singing competition. Its score received the Antoinette Perry Award for Excellence in Broadway Theatre in 2022, making Marlow (b. 1994) the first openly nonbinary composer to win a Tony.

The Lilt of the Lowes | Ron Gonnella

This is a medley of two Scottish fiddle tunes: “Dandie Dinmont,” a strathspey attributed to Joseph Lowe, and “Sir David Davidson of Cantray,” a reel attributed to John Lowe. Joseph was John’s son, and published collections of fiddle music in the 1840s, according to the Traditional Tune Archive. Their surname was sometimes spelled Low. This recording is from 1980.

Brother Joseph | Frank Lowe

Born in Memphis, Tennessee, Frank (1943–2003) took up the saxophone at age 12. As an adult he lived and performed in San Francisco and New York, rubbing elbows with avant-garde jazz giants including Ornette Coleman, Alice Coltrane, and Sun Ra. This recording, from 1973’s “Black Beings,” is bookended by two extended group improvisations.

Butterfly | Charlie Gracie

Juilliard -trained pianist Bernard Lowe (born Lowenthal, 1917–1993) was one half of the songwriting team behind this No. 1 hit from 1957. Bernie founded Cameo Records in Philadelphia with Kalman Cohen, aka Kal Mann, and the duo wrote several songs for their star Gracie. They’re also responsible for “(Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear,” another 1957 No. 1 hit, this time for Elvis Presley on another label.

Hurry Home | The Lowe Family

I wasn’t kidding about the Lowes being a musical family. This multigenerational troupe started touring around the country in 1994. For eight years they performed six shows a week in Branson, Missouri, the world capital of gaudy musical extravaganzas. In 2009 they got the Mormon Tabernacle Choir to back them up on this cover originated by former Yes singer Jon Anderson. The group appears to have disbanded around 2013. But siblings Doug, Kayliann, and Kendra have solo careers and collaborated on a musical about Latter-Day Saints movement founders Joseph and Emma Smith. 

Swing Low, Sweet Chariot | Fisk University Jubilee Quartette

This African American spiritual gets the award for most enduring song of the collection. It was composed by Choctaw freedman Wallace Willis in what is now Oklahoma sometime after 1865. It later made its way into the repertoires of Black singing groups, including this one from a school in Nashville, Tennessee. For many years this recording from 1909 was thought to be the earliest. An 1894 version turned up in the 21st century, but despite heroic restoration work it’s essentially unlistenable. You can hear “Swing Low” plenty of other places, though. According to SecondhandSongs.com, it has been recorded more than 400 times, with cover versions by everyone from Etta James and Loretta Lynn to Stevie Wonder and Eric Clapton to Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Related

Songs from the extended family

One of the joys of writing this blog is discovering music I never would have come across if I weren’t investigating some obscurity or other.

CHIRP* No. 16

“One-man band” connotes superficial novelty. But why couldn’t one musician possess profundity equivalent to that of a larger group? Stipulating supreme discipline and inspired artistry, two arms, two legs, and a voice are more than sufficient to please the ear and touch the soul.

(Josh Dion at a house party in Norwalk, Conn., 12/14/2024)

* Concise Historical Impression of a Recording or Performance

The Gibb Brothers Variations

I can never remember where the downbeat is supposed to fall in the chorus of “Islands in the Stream.” 

Written by the Bee Gees (brothers Barry, Maurice, and Robin Gibb), this 1983 No. 1 hit for Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers is a contender for greatest duet of all time. But I can never seem to find a stable landmass in its rushing waters. When I try to sing the titular line to myself, its cadence wriggles through my fingers like a sea lamprey migrating upriver.

Is this perceived rhythmic ambiguity a flaw in the composition? A fault in my own hearing? Whatever it is, I’ll take it as an opportunity to remix and experiment. Follow me around the room, won’t you?

When I finally sat down to analyze the chorus, I found that the downbeat coincides with the next-to-last syllable of each line. 

Islands in the stream
That is what we are
No one in be-tween
How can we be wrong
Sail away with me
To anoth-er world

It strikes me that this phrasing emphasizes the least important part of each line — “the,” “with,” and so on. It would seem more natural to emphasize each line’s final syllable. This would require beginning each phrase an eighth note earlier.

Exhibit A: Last syllable

The emphasis could also be placed on the first syllable, using the downbeat to launch rather than conclude each line. But there’s a problem with this approach.

Following the six lines of the chorus proper is a two-line post-chorus (“And we re-ly on each other, uh-huh / From one lo-over to another, uh-huh”). Here the phrasing has no ambiguity — the emphasis falls squarely on the most important word of each line. The chorus may be movable, but the post-chorus is not. As a consequence, beginning the chorus on the downbeat doesn’t leave enough space between the two sections.

Exhibit B: First syllable

However, if we omit the post-chorus, we can shift the rest anywhere we please. Below are eight permutations of the chorus melody, each beginning one eighth note later than the previous one. To my ear, all sound equally valid, though some work better than others. If like me you were ever unclear on where the downbeat is supposed to fall, now you’ll be hopelessly confused.

Exhibit C: Variations

Isolated vocals via Dj David C., backing track via Digital Deconstructions

Related

Trompe l’oreille

Pop music depends on rhythmic expectations. Sometimes an artist will deliberately mess with those expectations. Other times the way you hear things will be misguided.

In one ear and out the other

Music is inherently free to flutter wherever it will. Some of us, rather than appreciate it in its natural habitat, try to catch it with a net and pin it under glass.

Written music notation has existed in various forms for more than 3,000 years. The modern age gave us technology to record musical sounds not in the abstract, as notation does, but in a manner resembling actuality. Yet these methods are, at least to this listener, ancillary to the ultimate goal. Rather than letting music slip in one ear and out the other, I want to capture it in the space between.

When a piece of music intrigues me, I yearn to go beyond familiarity and achieve something more like fluency. This is easy when there’s a recording I can listen to over and over. But it’s impossible where complex live music is concerned. Knowing I won’t retain much of what I hear, I spend at least part of the performance fretting about how and when I will be able to reinforce the experience by studying a recording. Paradoxically, I’m distracted from the piece by the attention I plan pay it in the future.

Most people seem perfectly capable of enjoying a concert in the moment and then getting on with their lives. Why can’t I be like that?

Perhaps my process as a musician is to blame. To learn a new song, I listen repeatedly to a demo recording, first getting accustomed to its structure and other characteristics, then experimenting until I come up with a satisfying bassline. Failing to internalize the music would mean being unprepared to perform it, and I’m too afraid of embarrassment to let that happen.

It’s as if my anxieties about music in which I play an active role have carried over to music in which I play a passive role. But that’s only noise. The mind can be trained to tune out such distractions. Perhaps someday I will cut the strings of my own net and let the music fly free.

CHIRP* No. 15

My most political show in ages wasn’t a night of punk polemics but rather Arabian instrumentals. After each song, the calmly outraged percussionist described atrocities in Gaza and related injustices in the U.S. It was back and forth from joy and wonder to perplexity and sadness.

(Layaali Arabic Music Ensemble at the Marigold Theater, Easthampton, Mass., 8/24/24)

* Concise Historical Impression of a Recording or Performance

CHIRP* No. 14

Arched ceiling: Ethereal melodies sung through a too-quiet PA.
Book-lined walls: Languid guitar strums multiplied by long, thick delay.
Concrete floor: Wheezing drums, just as slow as the Omnichord will play them.
They sit crosslegged, hunched, obscured by a folding chair, building.

(Bobbie at Bookends, Florence, Mass., 7/7/24)

* Concise Historical Impression of a Recording or Performance

When the title doesn’t match the lyrics

Pointless List No. 3

Decades of popular music have conditioned us to expect every song’s title to correspond to words from that song’s refrain. We can see the lyrics confer authority upon the title just as the title substantiates the lyrics.

But from time to time we witness a breakdown in this reciprocity. When there isn’t an exact match between title and lyric, we may be puzzled, or amused, or confounded.

There are plenty of cases where the title bears zero resemblance to the lyrics — or even their subject matter. Classic examples are The Who’s “Teenage Wasteland,” which is actually called “Baba O’Riley,” and Bob Dylan’s “Everybody Must Get Stoned,” which is officially known as “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35.” The catalogs of the Beatles and the Monkees are shot through with songs possessing this kind of dissociative identity disorder.

Odd as they are, however, such incongruous titles don’t contradict the songs with which they’re associated. They merely stand apart. And by standing apart so conspicuously, the black sheep is bound all the more tightly to the flock.

More intriguing are songs where title and lyric are similar but not quite the same. In these instances, the definitive version does not exist. Neither title nor lyric can be deemed correct or incorrect. All we can do is sit back and and watch them bicker.

While many examples of mismatches follow below, special distinction belongs to “Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye” by Steam (1969). The title isolates the song’s distinctive non-lexical vocables and other keywords, respecting neither their number nor their sequence. Meanwhile, the song has followed a remarkable trajectory. While it began as the pleadings of a jealous voyeur, its chorus has become the universal chant used to belittle athletic failure. Its recognizability has long eclipsed its awkward title.

Discrepancies between title and lyric may be superficial or significant, and they may happen for practical, whimsical, or unintentional reasons.

While lyricists’ imagination and tendency to obey meter may yield extended phrases — and although these extended phrases may be very catchy or memorable — commercial interests often demand concision. In other words, a shorter title is usually more practical than a longer one. 

Practicalities of intellectual property, branding, and polite society must also be observed. There may be an interest in avoiding titles that are controversial1 or duplicative of recognizable songs of the past.

Of course the decision to shorten a title may be totally impractical. People like to abbreviate and use pet names. Sometimes the informal moniker is recorded on the birth certificate.

Lastly, unintentional alterations of the title are a possibility, especially on pre-digital printed materials like record sleeves. Typographical errors and other careless mistakes are bound to happen.

There are a couple examples of mismatches being reconciled. One holiday staple started out in 1951 with a simplified title, but subsequent releases include the full phrase: “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.” A 1955 Fats Domino single was initially labeled “Ain’t It a Shame,” but later became “Ain’t That a Shame,” matching what was sung.

Whatever their cause, mismatched titles generally present in seven forms. What follows is an ever-expanding list of examples. I’m greatly indebted to members of the Steve Hoffman Music Forums who identified several qualifying entries in 2009. Send additions to zogernd [at] gmail [dot] com. Bonus points if you can find an example where the title is wordier than the lyric.

1. Loss of specificity

By Fire — Hiatus Kaiyote (2015)

Lyric: Direct to the old Navajo by the fire
Discussion: The title calls to mind a metaphorical trial by fire. But in the song it’s a literal campfire.

The Same Does Not Apply — Rustic Overtones (2009)

Lyric: The same does not always apply

Another Day In Paradise — Phil Collins (1989)

Lyric: ’Cause it’s another day for you and me in paradise

Living for the City — Stevie Wonder (1972)

Lyric: Living just enough, just enough for the city

Won’t Get Fooled Again — The Who (1971)

Lyric: Then I’ll get on my knees and pray / We don’t get fooled again
Discussion: There’s a world of difference between praying not to get fooled and being foolproof.

What Is Life — George Harrison (1970)

Lyric: Tell me, what is my life without your love?

She’s a Rainbow — The Rolling Stones (1967)

Lyric: She’s like a rainbow
Discussion: The title is a metaphor. The lyric is a simile. Maddening.

Don’t Talk to Strangers — The Beau Brummels (1965)

Lyric: Don’t you go talking to strangers
Also: Don’t you dare go unto strangers
And: Don’t you go runnin’ to strangers

I’ll Feel a Whole Lot Better — The Byrds (1965)

Lyric: And I’ll probably feel a whole lot better when you’re gone
Discussion: The title declares, but the lyric equivocates.

(You’re My) Soul and Inspiration — The Righteous Brothers (1966)

Lyric: You’re my soul and my heart’s inspiration

2. Omission of intensifiers

We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together — Taylor Swift (2012)

Lyric: We are never ever ever [ever] getting back together
Discussion: Both Taylor and Bryan Adams (see below) employ repetition in their lyrics to eliminate ambiguity. Their titles delete the duplicate words, but still end up being fairly long.

Have You Ever Really Loved A Woman — Bryan Adams (1995)

Lyric: So tell me have you ever really, really, really ever loved a woman

They Don’t Care About Us — Michael Jackson (1995)

Lyric: All I wanna say is that they don’t really care about us

Blame It On Your Heart — Patty Loveless (1993)

Lyric: Blame it on your lyin’, cheatin’, cold, dead-beatin’, two-timin’, double-dealin’, mean, mistreatin’, lovin’ heart
Discussion: This string of accusatory adjectives would’ve taken a week to scroll across your iPod screen, but the more economical title hardly captures the spirit of the song.

Boom! Shake the Room — DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince (1993)

Lyric: Boom! Shake, shake, shake the room

I Really Love You — The Stereos (1961)

Lyric: I really, really love you

3. Simplified pairings

Hot N Cold — Katy Perry (2008)

Lyric: Cause you’re hot and you’re cold

Love/Hate — Liz Phair (2003)

Lyric: It’s a war, all the love and hate

Alone + Easy Target — Foo Fighters (1995)

Lyric: I’m alone and I’m an easy target

Right Place Wrong Time — Dr. John (1973)

Lyric: I was in the right place, but it must’ve been the wrong time

Sunshine Superman — Donovan (1966)

Lyric: Sunshine came softly through my a-window today
Also: Superman or Green Lantern ain’t got a-nothin’ on me

4. Substitution

Off He Goes — Pearl Jam (1996)

Lyric: There he goes with his perfectly unkempt clothes/hope

What’s Up — 4 Non Blondes (1992)

Lyric: And so I wake in the morning and I step outside / And I take a deep breath and I get real high / And I scream from the top of my lungs, “What’s going on?”
Discussion: The possibly apocryphal story goes that the San Francisco band’s breakthrough was retitled because Marvin Gaye already had a hit in 1971 with “What’s Going On.”

Other Arms — Robert Plant (1983)

Lyric: Lay down your arms

Young Turks — Rod Stewart (1981)

Lyric: Young hearts be free tonight
Discussion: The official title captures the protagonists’ rebellion but not their romance. The lyric is awfully similar to Candi Staton’s 1976 disco hit “Young Hearts Run Free.”

Open the Door, Homer — Bob Dylan & The Band (1975)

Lyric: Open the door, Richard

Gimme Little Sign — Brenton Wood (1967)

Lyric: If you do want me, gimme little sugar
Also: Just gimme some kind of sign, girl

5. Contradiction

Without You — Pugwash (2017)

Lyric: What did you do all day without me?

Jesus Wants Me For A Sunbeam — ​​The Vaselines (1992)

Lyric: Jesus don’t want me for a sunbeam
Discussion: Nirvana made this song famous with their “MTV Unplugged” cover, retitling it “Jesus Doesn’t Want Me For a Sunbeam.” The Vaselines sing “Jesus don’t want me,” but their title asserts the opposite. However, in the 2009 live version above, they introduce the song using the “Doesn’t” title. The song parodies a children’s hymn called “I’ll Be a Sunbeam.”

Strawberry Letter 23 — Shuggie Otis (1971)

Lyric: A present from you, Strawberry Letter 22
Discussion: Otis has said the song describes lovers exchanging letters in strawberry-colored envelopes. As a reply to the 22nd such letter, the song is letter 23.

6. Duplication

Star Star — The Rolling Stones (1973)

Lyric: Starfucker
Discussion: Funny how the sanitized title replaces the expletive not with asterisks, but with the word star.

Tighter, Tighter — Alive N Kickin’ (1970)

Lyric: Hold on just a little bit tighter now, baby

Cherry, Cherry — Neil Diamond (1966)

Lyric: Hey, she got the way to move me, Cherry / (She got the way to groove me) / Cherry, baby

7. Superficial differences

Blinding Lights — The Weeknd (2019)

Lyric: Oooh I’m blinded by the lights
Discussion: The lyric evokes Bruce Springsteen’s “Blinded by the Light” (1973), better known as a 1977 hit for Manfred Mann’s Earth Band.

Blinded by the Lights — The Streets (2004)

Lyric: Lights are blinding my eyes
Discussion: The title is only one letter different from Springsteen’s. Rather than avoiding similarity to another recognizable title, this one goes out of its way to create similarity.

Semi Charmed Life — Third Eye Blind (1997)

Lyric: I want something else to get me through this semi-charmed kind of life

Who’ll Be the Fool Tonight — Larsen|Feiten Band (1980)

Lyric: Who will be the fool tonight
Discussion: “Maybe they ran out of room on the album spine,” speculates co-host David B. Lyons on the “Beyond Yacht Rock” podcast (“Camaro Summer,” July 8, 2016, starting at 3:44).

All My Love — Led Zeppelin (1979)

Lyric: All of my love

Bad Moon Rising — Creedence Clearwater Revival (1969)

Lyric: I see a bad moon arising
Also: There’s a bad moon on the rise

Everybody’s Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey — The Beatles (1968)

Lyric: Everybody’s got something to hide ’cept for me and my monkey

MacArthur Park — Richard Harris (1968)

Lyric: MacArthur’s Park is melting in the dark

Reach Out of the Darkness — Friend and Lover (1968)

Lyric: Reach out in the darkness

Notes

1. Cardi B’s 2020 collab with Megan Thee Stallion, “WAP,” is an example of a censored title as well as an acronym title. For more songs known by acronyms or initialisms, see https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0NlMPUuemEyPbZvi9KSmbU?si=296942694f894e25.