Published on Jan 11, 1999
I’m not sure exactly when I became a prude.
Not when I was a head-banging seventeen-year-old AC/DC fan,
that’s for sure. Not when I wrote an opinion piece for the
San Francisco Examiner a few years ago blistering Dan
Quayle’s elitist, sexist, homophobic vision of “family values”
(give me a break, Mr. Potatoe-head).
Not even when attention-starved Alanis Morissette — my personal
pick for “Most Overrated Artist of the ’90s” — stirred things up
by talking dirty about her ex’s sex life did I rise to object.
The reason is simple: AC/DC and Alanis — not to mention
Clueless Dan — don’t market themselves to nine-year-olds.
I had actually decided not to review this album — frankly,
there isn’t much here to review — and I do apologize to readers
who rightfully expect more discussion of the music than I’m going
to offer. But just when I’d decided to take a pass, Third Eye Blind
singer/lyricist/bandleader Stephan Jenkins suddenly caught my
attention by wrangling himself a couple of smarmy little
self-promos during ABC’s “T.G.I.F.” Friday night block.
For the uninitiated, T.G.I.F. is the last remaining holdout of
quote-unquote family programming left on network TV. It offers four
somewhat sugary, family-centered sitcoms that are, if nothing more,
a safe haven for my kids, ages seven, nine and eleven. Unlike other
totally-inappropriate-for-8:00 shows such as
Friends or
Dawson’s Creek (both of which I enjoy), you can at least
count on the Olsen twins not to crack one-liners about oral sex or
call each other “bitch.”
Meanwhile, Jenkins is the leader of a band that’s made its name
on a catchy little single about getting a blowjob while strung out
on meth.
Musically, “Semi-Charmed Life” is a better-than-average piece of
alt-pop songcraft. The guitars ring and hammer around a sweet
central riff, and Jenkins and his not untalented band frame the
choruses with an instantly memorable “doot-doot-doot,
doot-doo-doot-doo” chant. Meanwhile, Jenkins’ nasal, hyperactive
vocal delivery obscures much of the verses.
It’s an approach that’s bound to draw in a younger set of
listeners like my 11-year-old, who thought the song was cool enough
to pick out the album when he went shopping last month with
Grandma. Then, back at home, his mom and I started reading the
lyric sheet and gave each other the patented parental “uh-oh”
look.
“She comes around and she goes down on me”? “Chop another line”?
“Doing crystal meth will lift you up until you break”? “I feel like
I could die and that would be alright”? Thanks for sharing, but I
don’t think so.
At that point I wasn’t really mad, just disappointed. We’re the
ones who gave the green light for our son to buy it without
checking the lyrics first, and anybody who cares to has every right
to write poppy songs aimed at an adult audience, though I think
they have an obligation to go about it responsibly. So I took
custody of the CD (“Hey, maybe I can still review this…”) and we
went back and bought our son something more appropriate.
That was the end of the story until Jenkins showed up, looking
oh-so-cool with his rock-star hair and a studio mixing board behind
him, to associate himself with the last block of prime-time
programming on network TV aimed specifically at the
twelve-and-under set — at which point I completely lost it. (And
no, I don’t blame ABC or corporate parent Disney; they probably got
suckered by the poppy-sounding music just like I did.)
Stephan Jenkins, you go ahead and write your derivative,
monumentally self-absorbed alt-rock odes to slacking (“Losing a
Whole Year”), alcoholism (“God of Whine,” I mean “Wine”), and
“Narcolepsy” (oooo, a big word in a song title, I’m so NOT
impressed). Go ahead and try to dress up your second-rate
Matchbox20 guitar hooks by aping Led Zep/Aerosmith slow-build song
structures. Prove how with-it you are by writing a song referencing
the embarrassingly hip “Burning Man” festival, a lame excuse to
kill a few brain cells if ever I heard one.
Just don’t EVER come peddling your smug, totally irresponsible,
“sex and drugs and slacking and suicide are so
fascinating, aren’t they, kiddies?” attitude on my
nine-year-old’s favorite show again. By doing promos on T.G.I.F.,
you have declared yourself the Joe Camel of alt-rock sleaze — a
title that makes being labeled a prude sound like a compliment.