Remember how I said yesterday that naming my favorite song was really, really hard? Uh-huh. Piece of cake compared to naming my least favorite song.
At the root of the issue is a basic math problem: if 99% of everything is crap (and that’s probably understating the case) then there are 99 times as many crap songs as great ones. I mean, I hated every motherfucking song that the radio played during the disco years. I detest large swaths of hip-hip, all American Idol-style industry put-up job pop, and will somebody please kill those guys who did “The Macarena.”
In addition, I think if you’re really a fan of a band, you have to hate those moments where they jump the tracks and betray your faith in them, like when The Police chose to record “Mother.” Like Queen with “Get Down Make Love.” Like two or three things on U2’s Pop and Zooropa CDs.
Music should lift us up. It should make us better for having heard it. It should ennoble our souls (or have a beat that we can dance to) and in the best of moments it is the white-hot fire in which our greatest cultural moments are forged. Like any tool, though, music can be used for evil purposes. It can be used to make us hateful and dumb. It can be used to pander to our worst instincts and to empower those who approach life in a spirit of militant, malignant ignorance.
Today’s song is built on so many lies, so much ignorance, such powerfully stupid ill will that it would take an army of scholars years to unravel it all.
As Natalie Maines put it when explaining that t-shirt she’s wearing in the picture above, “FUTK” stands for Freedom, Understanding, Truth and Knowledge.
FUTK, buddy. FUTK.