I don’t know if this is really the second worst song of the northern hemisphere’s summer or our winter. I didn’t know who put some of the laziest lyrics around on record the umpteen times I’ve heard them on radio over the last couple of days. I don’t even really know why I’m posting on this track, most definitely in the top ten if not below 5 on the list of aggravating crap-pop, but hopefully I can work that out by the end of this. I think it has something to do with a comment on the industry. On the Internet generation. On how if you have enough label push, nepotistic ties and at least one pop culture reference in a sub-average ditty, it will get spins. On the amazing feat where somebody managed to lobotomise the music programmers at the majority of Sydney’s radio stations at the same time and sneak this one onto air. On how damn easy it is to write a million-download song in this era of cheap party tracks.
All that ambiguity aside, Hot Chelle Rae is quite obviously the most terrible name ever picked by a band of punk-poppers from Nashville, Tennessee. If you can believe it (and I’m not quite sure that I do), the last reputable pop-rockers to come out of Nashville were Hot (Do you think that I can get some, jiggy jiggy?) Action Cop. Obviously the ‘Hot’ moniker is handled with great care in a town better known for their country than their pop prowess as it’s taken a fair while to find a new act worthy of wearing the ‘Hot’ crown. Now that we have though (thanks heavens), I’m glad that it’s gone to Hot Chelle Rae who, concerned that their original name ‘Miracle Drug’, cribbed from a mediocre U2 track of the same name, would suffer in Google rankings as a result, thought they might as well dedicate the group to their first (presumably attractive) MySpace fan.
The physical appeal or otherwise of the enigmatic Chelle Rae is a moot point. What does matter is that, churning out what can only be termed senseless drivel with a vague party theme, a cutesy, slightly politically-contentious (‘even the white kids’?) call-and-response section and about as much chorus as anyone could ever cram into a song and still claim typical verse-chorus structure, Hot Chelle Rae have made it all the way from Nashville, Tennessee to Sydney, Australia and infected the airwaves. Where the Eric Hutchinson/Jason Mraz juggernaut about three years back had the major redeeming quality that is actual, worthwhile musicality, Hot Chelle Rae will probably go on to assume all the historical importance of their namesake number one fan. And what kills me most? Lyrics like ‘wooooah/whatever/wooooah/it doesn’t matter/woooah/everybody now/wooooah/ooh!’ get me drumming my steering wheel and petulantly grooving in my seat. Dear Nashville, please stop making horrifyingly catchy music. Oh, and take better press pix. Kind regards, me.
Hot Chelle Rae – Tonight Tonight