Unbest

Daniella Joseph on LMFAO’s “Party Rock Anthem” (2011)
(iTunes, Rd—oh come on, you know this damn song) 

My cousin Pame is a little wild. Her voice is toddler-loud. When I ride the subway with her, I can feel the eyes of other passengers on us, some of them are disapproving, some startled awake, their eyes focused on her wide red mouth, the glint of her gold fillings. Then there’s her accent, which is an over-exaggerated Ricky Ricardo style explosion of S’s. We ssssssay them. They’re spectacular, sunny and a little aggressive; smiling as offense.

We went to a French restaurant and the place, which usually plays light jazz, was banging out dance tracks like they knew she was there. She danced in her chair and I was reminded of how when I was 14, she and her sisters got me into Webster Hall. She wound up fucking some guy behind the red velvet curtains. I asked her gravely if she had used a condom because it seemed like the most mature thing to say and she’d laughed. Here we were, twenty-three years later, grown-ups in a bistro twitching to techno. A song started playing and she crowed I LOVE THIS SONG and waved her arms from side to side. Oh, I didn’t know it was a real song, I thought it was a commercial jingle. The dancing gerbils in hoodies! Robots! Though I don’t get how stoned looking gerbils sell cars. It’s kind of irresponsible. She cackled and kept wiggling in her seat. You’re so crazy is her shorthand for stop talking and dance. This is how it will always be.

On New Year’s Eve, I was in bed. I’d spent the evening with Pame and the rest of my family on the Upper East Side, and slid easily into the role of the youngest; my first role, my greatest. The television glowed at the foot of our bed and a deeply orange Dick Clark soldiered on. Ryan Seacrest popped up, announcing a live performance from LMFAO. These idiots came on and that song started. Ha ha ha ha, that’s who LMFAO is! Are these guys in costume? Are they Latino? I need to know this, so I can gauge how embarrassed I should be. What is happening with those clothes? Where are the gerbils? OMG, they are dancing like the gerbils! J opines that it straight up sucks. I went yesssssssss but no, it’s got that part, that part that saves it. Then I made the sped up keyboard noises. It’s so stupid and simple and perfect for the dance floor. I danced to it again the next day on our way out the door doing a modified running man in my winter wear. That night, I played the video for my friend Jared and he got that special look on his face that he reserves for Coldplay and covers done in tasteful Bossa Nova style.

What? I dig this!

This. Is awful.

It’s disco!

It’s disco diarrhea.

It’s delightful disco diarrhea! What is that hook? A keyboard? I NEED TO KNOW!

It is a pitch shifted, autotuned keyboard.

Reaaaally?!

That’s a horrible hook.

When I ask him if he thinks these dudes are Hispanic, he wavers, then decides no. They’re post-race. I laugh. Of course. You’re so crazy.

Daniella Joseph caters to the whims of Academics by day and grumbles at night. She tumbls about music and memory here.