A Free Pass: Music Edition

Before my iPod, Minnie, died, er, went away to the gadget farm to roam and charge free among the apple and lemon trees (By the way, if you’ve recently upgraded, and are looking to unload an iPod, drop me a line…), if you had audited its contents, you would have found “Stars are Blind”, from the illustrious, heirhead ingénue chanteuse, Paris Hilton.

Yes, Paris Hilton. [Defiantly] So what? [Sullenly] What of it?

Oh hell, I know what of it. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have that track hidden in my Guilty Fluffy Playlist, which I have filed under the pseudonym “Audio-Books-Wealth of Nations”. I KNOW that listening to P.Hil is not cool…and that any of her merchandise, her pink, plastic, disposable merchandise, is cringe worthy. Girlfriend can’t sing. Girlfriend has a weak, thin voice begging for some fried chicken wings, gravy, and biscuits.

I KNOW this, intellectually, and was completely prepared to loathe her album…until I came across “Stars Are Blind”. It was a moment of weakness. A particularly cold, gray, rainy day, too much angst on my iPod, on the news…a part of me was drawn to the light, tinkly reggae beat, the undeniably catchy hook, and the premise of a fluffy fantasy land where only sand, surf, sun, and skin reigned.

But I’m making excuses. I like what I like, and dammit, I like this song. Yes, the lyrics are inane. Yes, she barely hits that high note near the end (“Let’s see what looove can dooo”), razor thin voice cracking dangerously close to the jugular. What can I say? It’s catchy. It’s mindless. It got me at a time when what I needed was light, inconsequential, feel-good fluff, and even when I run across it now, I still smile at the memory of that fluffy feeling. Perhaps mixed in with that fluffy, feel-goodness is a hint of “Oh, that Paris” indulgence…a hint of arch, knowing, superiority…the reminder that someone out there is more messed up and clueless than me.

So that concludes my appeal for a “Free Pass” in my music library. Please don’t reject my membership application for Kool and Snarky International. You know, we all need a free pass sometime. And yeah, even Paris.