Welcome to the worst Certain Song of all time.
I don’t know how many of these posts I’ll end up doing when all is said and done, but I can absolutely guarantee that every single other song I will write about will be better than this complete and utter monstrosity. This unholy pastiche of hair metal, dance music, new wave and pop.
This insanely catchy piece of shit that I love so very very much.
And not ironically nor guiltily, either. Pleasures are pleasures, and they should be neither ironic nor guilty, so I really and truly love “Nth Degree,” this jack-knifed big rig which snuck past the same defenses that kept things like the Divinyls and Sigue Sigue Sputnik at bay in the past. Stupid defenses.
I mean, this radiation leak in a schoolyard starts with lead singer Chantal Claret spelling out the goddamn band’s name over a dancy kickdrum/bass rumble in the kind of highly synthetic little girl voice that usually causes me to smash my radio with a baseball bat.
Huh-huh. Morning wood. I get it. Fuck you.
But it gets worse. Oh man does it get so much worse. Because, you see, “Nth Degree” is all about Morningwood the band, with the rest of the band — or “band” because I’m literally not sure if actual human beings got within 500 miles of any of this coathanger abortion — trying to cover all of the bases describing what they are. Or something.
Uh oh, here we go
Turn up the radio
Come on everybody
To the Nth degree
If you’re rock and roll, disco, heavy metal angel
Come on everybody, to the Nth degree
Uh, sure. Just let me go inside and get my jacket.
I’m sure I first came across the garbage fire of a video for “Nth Degree” on some godforsaken mid-aughts video show, and hated it so much, I immediately downloaded it from Usenet. I sure as hell didn’t buy it.
While the guitars, or more likely a computer or synth or some shit set to “guitars,” are appropriately fuzzy and buzzy, with a “guitar solo” in the middle that is kinda cool, as catchy and well-thought-out as the rest of this glammy trashy sewage spill.
Which is so fucking catchy. I’m literally dying right now, because I know this hook-filled bottom-feeding scumfest will be ringing in my head for the rest of the day, and probably still be haunting my thoughts when I wake up at 3:00 tomorrow morning, horrified that I declared my love for this tidal wave of amputations in public and for all time.
So fuck that. I’m deleting this post, so none of you will ever know my complete and utter shame. To the Nth degree.
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