A line-by-line analysis of Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe”

I threw a wish in the well, Don’t ask me I’ll never tell: She opens the song by establishing that she has no control over the situation. The act of throwing a wish in a well is an act of desperation and one that betrays her inability to influence her position. Yet establishing that she’ll never tell what it was for gives her some degree of control, if only in her mind.
I looked at you as it fell, And now you’re in my way: Carly Rae then turns the focus away from herself momentarily as she acknowledges that her wish-throwing was meant to have an impact on some unknown “you.” Saying that this person is in her way puts the onus on them to act and serves to deflect attention from her actions.

I trade my soul for a wish, Pennies and dimes for a kiss: For the first time, we get a glimpse into the romantic motivations for Carly Rae’s wish-throwing. She first admits she’d give up her soul for the wish she had thrown, yet quickly clarifies to say she’d pay some loose change to lock lips with “you.” Now it becomes clear that she is wishing for a kiss and that the wish was really more than the seemingly urbane act of tossing coins in a well to symbolize wishing.
I wasn’t looking for this, But now you’re in my way: Once again, Carly Rae tries to make herself more of a bystander by saying she wasn’t looking for this and that this mystery person is once again in her way. This implies that the attraction is present but that she perhaps wants him gone as well. This line is crucial in understanding the complexity of the relationship.

Your stare was holding, Ripped jeans, Skin was showing, Hot night, Wind was blowing: We are finally given some clues about the environment in which this all takes place. She’s clearly outside on a warm, summer night. There is some minimal sexualization of the subject as she acknowledges his stare and that one of the two figures was showing their skin through ripped jeans.
Where you think you’re going baby?: Here Carly Rae finally gets down to business. No longer is she alluding to vague wishes; instead, she effectively tells the subject not to go anywhere and clarifies that she views him romantically by calling him “baby.” This line is notable for the subtlety it employs to let the boy know that she is interested in him without directly saying anything so crude.

Hey I just met you, And this is crazy: Having already sexualized the situation, she takes it a step further by offering up a salacious line clearly intended to conjure images of a gas station bathroom hookup fueled by nothing more than reaching for the same Toblerone at the checkout counter. So crazy.
But here’s my number, So call me maybe: Yet Jepsen brings the tension right back down by introducing the innocent element of a number swap. She also reveals her personal insecurities by including a “maybe” at the end to create an air of aloofness. She put herself in a vulnerable position by offering her number, and this theme of an insecure teenager will resonate throughout the song.
It’s hard to look right at you baby: Does anyone have any idea what the fuck this is about? Other than getting the word “baby” in here to rhyme with “maybe?”
But here’s my number, So call me maybe: By repeating this line in the chorus, Carly Rae makes it clear that it is up to him to call her if he has any interest in furthering their relationship. It’s as if she’s trying to pretend that despite everything she’s said, she doesn’t really care whether he calls or not.

Carly Rae, searching for a better word to rhyme with "baby"

Hey I just met you, And this is crazy, But here’s my number, So call me maybe: Catchy as shit, amirite?

And all the other boys, Try to chase me: Here Carly Rae just takes her insecurities to another level. She has clearly become nervous that maybe he won’t call her, so she tries to increase her worth in his eyes by informing him that many other boys consider her a prize. This is an attempt to make him jealous while reminding him that “maybe” he should call her.
But here’s my number, So call me maybe: By immediately transitioning back to this line, she draws a contrast between the other boys and the object of her attention. Jepsen tells him that he has privileged status in her opinion and does not have to chase her. This is at once a desperate and bold move by Carly Rae that really puts her in a position of vulnerability if he maybe rejects her.

You took your time with the call, I took no time with the fall: Jepsen finally acknowledges the subtlety she’s been hinting at from the beginning: that the boy in this story is in a position of power because she is clearly more interested in him than he is in her. She openly states that she fell for him immediately, but you can sense her pain and anguish in the fact that he waited to call her.
You gave me nothing at all, But still you’re in my way: She now cleverly moves once again to blame him for her agony. Rather than saying that she got carried away, she accuses him of not giving her anything yet simultaneously acts as if he chose the situation by saying he was in her way. Suddenly she is transformed from the over-eager number-giver to an innocent girl who has been hindered and given nothing in return.

I beg and borrow and steal, At first sight and it’s real: The previous line makes much more sense when taken in the context of this startling admission of criminal guilt. Jepsen had to shift the blame to the man to justify her crazed stealing fetish. She also alludes to love (the “it” in this line) to try to rationalize her robberies in a two-pronged approach.
I didn’t know I would feel it, But it’s in my way: Having shifted from blaming the boy to blaming love in the previous line, Carly Rae now continues blaming love by claiming that amorous passion is actually what’s in her way. She claims to be surprised by the whole encounter as well, as if to say that she in no way planned her actions.

Your stare was holding, Ripped jeans, Skin was showing, Hot night, Wind was blowing, Where you think you’re going baby?: Shit was getting real. About time to lighten the mood with a little repetish.

Hey I just met you, And this is crazy, But here’s my number, So call me maybe, It’s hard to look right at you baby, But here’s my number, So call me maybe: I literally cannot not dance to this shit.

Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad: This is either the most beautiful or most idiotic line of the song. Regardless, her point is clear: until she saw his hair blowin’ in the hot night wind, her life was incomplete. This successfully takes him from a mere object of lust to the love of her life to such a degree that any time spent without him was a time of despair.
I missed you so bad, I missed you so so bad, Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad, And you should know that, I missed you so so bad bad bad bad….: She feels this way very much. And is apparently quite proud of herself for thinking of this.

It’s hard to look right at you baby, But here’s my number, So call me maybe: In case you missed it before.

Still hasn't fucking called.

Hey I just met you, And this is crazy, But here’s my number, So call me maybe, And all the other boys, Try to chase me, But here’s my number, So call me maybe: Jepsen reverts to her comfort zone by repeating the chorus again here, but it is notable that she chooses to emphasize in her final chorus that other boys continue to try and chase her. She seems still unsure that he will call her and is desperate to make herself seem as desirable as possible in the waning moments of the song.

Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad, I missed you so bad, I missed you so so bad, Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad, And you should know that: Jepsen is practically begging for the call at this point. She repeats incoherently her assertion that her life was nothing before she met this rando. She uses “so” multiple times to convey all her emotion. She even says he should know this, as if it is vital information to his pending decision about calling her.
So call me maybe: After all that, Carly Rae just can’t help herself. One last time she tries to pretend this is all casual, that the encounter meant next to nothing to her. But we all know the truth. We know how much she missed him before he came into her life. He can’t just “maybe” call her; he must call her. They must become betrothed. They must have offspring. This is not a choice, it is a destiny. And it is glorious.

Maybe.

4 Nuisances Of Being Home

They say there’s no place like home. While it has been quite fantastic to spend some time relaxing at home with my family now that finals are over, there are certain aspects of being home that I had forgotten how much I don’t like. Indeed, sadly, home doesn’t consist solely of gourmet food and a nice bed. So without further ado, I present – in all my glorious bitching – four things that have bothered me since I’ve come home.

Nothing says "Christmas" like a shouting match with your father over light placement

4. Putting Up Christmas Lights
There’s just nothing like a Christmas tradition. Every December, my parents hand me a string of sorry-ass fucking Christmas lights and a ladder (which, incidentally, is about as stable as the Zambian government) and give me one objective: Make the 25-foot leafless tree in front of our house look slightly more festive and slightly less flaccid. It’s especially fun when, after an hour spent climbing around the tree like a paraplegic chimpanzee, I finish decorating the tree to discover that approximately a quarter of the lights actually function. Ultimately, though, it’s worth the Christmas cheer. Every time I look at that pathetic tree and the lights which appear to have been put up by a blind lemur, I am filled with an overwhelming sense of holiday spirit. And by holiday spirit, I mean uncontrollable rage.

3. Losing To My Parents in Scrabble
I don’t know about you guys, but I love shit-talking (Side note: Being from Denver, Tim “The Jesus” Tebow has regaled me with a whole anthology of shit-talking materials). Therefore, when my parents suggest a casual post-dinner Scrabble game, I immediately acquire the attitude of a theoretical lovechild of Terrell Owens and Pau Gasol. This shit-talking strategy pays off richly, seeing as I often demolish my parents and subsequently run naked victory laps around the dining room table. And this isn’t me bragging about my Scrabble skills; the case is rather that my parents don’t give two shits about whether or not their placement of “twat” (I truly wish I were lying about my dad playing that in Scrabble) opens up availability to the Triple Word space. Tonight, however, my shit-talking strategy failed me, as I fell short by one point against my mom. Ugh. Now I just feel like a douche.

2. Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
I never thought it would be possible to make such a trainwreck out of a movie starring Natalie Portman, Ewan McGregor, and Samuel L. Jackson, but damn it all if it hasn’t been done. I mean, seriously, what a steaming cinematic shitstack. The kid who starred as Anakin Skywalker (out of principle, I’m not looking up the little fucker’s name) is more obnoxious than the Nyan Cat on methamphetamines. And Jar Jar Binks? I don’t know whose idea it was to combine the voice of an illiterate Louisiana swamp-person with the visual representation of a banana peel with birth defects, but that idea single-handedly ruined my childhood. Honestly, the only thing they could have done to make this movie any worse would be casting Nick Cage as Senator Palpatine. Yeah, just imagine it.

"To the nights you wish you could forget."

1. Vodka Commercials
Maybe this is something I’m just noticing now because I spend 8 hours a day watching TV (luhhhh vacation), but vodka commercials are absolutely preposterous. The one that I find most personally absurd is a Grey Goose commercial, featuring the tagline: “To the nights you’ll never forget.” I don’t know what sort of idiots are running the marketing department over at Grey Goose, but they clearly lack a fundamental understanding of alcohol. Granted, the tagline “To the nights you’ll blackout and then discover five weeks later that you vomited gratuitously” isn’t quite as catchy, but it is certainly more accurate. It just seems that somewhere in the attempt to craft a convincing image-based appeal, the morons over at Grey Goose forgot some of the drawbacks of downing vodka. If I were Grey Goose, I’d try something more along the lines of “To the poke wars you drunkenly initiated with the entirety of your high school government class” or “To the texts you receive from your mom the next morning saying ‘You might want to take that video off of Facebook.’”

Album Review: Extreme Measures’ “Extremities”

It's rumored that Sherman Ave's own Ross Packingham was the leg model for the album cover

Some say that Radiohead’s Kid A was the most important album of a generation. Other music aficionados declare that the Beatles were the best band or that Sam Cooke was the best singer modern music ever saw. These debates have raged for years and will continue far into the future, but nobody doubts that all of the aforementioned artists look and sound like tone-deaf taintfaced 12-year-olds playing “Louie, Louie” at a midday suburban block party when compared to the debut album Extremities by the renowned a cappella group Extreme Measures.

Founded four years ago by Dan de la Torre, Extreme Measures follows in a long line of successful, talented, and unbelievably peppy a cappella groups here in Evanston ever since the Northwestern University School of Music dean Peter “That dude who won’t stop belting Journey covers in Burger King at 1 am each Saturday” Lutkin popularized a cappella in America with the founding of the A Cappella Choir in 1906. Extremities is the exquisitely angelic culmination of a year of recording by the group (with production by Ben Lieberman), and is the greatest thing that my ears have had the good fortune to hear since “Born to Run” on vinyl. Featuring covers of acclaimed artists like OneRepublic, Gavin DeGraw, Yellowcard, Christina Aguilera, and the Backstreet Boys, Extremities has the power to transport you to a wondrously magical time in your life — right around 6th grade — and keep you there until the album finally ends, an experience you won’t soon forget.

The enchantment starts right from the beginning.

There are certain moments that occur right at the opening of truly great music: the rimshot before Dylan launches into “Like a Rolling Stone;” the riff of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” that channeled every conceivable emotion of a generation; and that moment when the beat finally drops in Beethoven’s 5th Symphony all immediately come to mind. But the opening line of Extremities, a cover of Yellowcard’s “Breathing,” is so stunning that it immediately warrants consideration as one of the best album-openers of all time. In the first few bars, Extreme Measures already establish themselves as the most illustrious a cappella group in America since four insufferable pricks from Yale first donned tuxedos and formed the Whiffenpoofs — who incidentally only have the second-most obnoxious name among a cappella groups at Yale.

But what makes this album so bewitchingly radiant is the caliber of the rest of the tracks furnished by Extreme Measures. Stunning and sublime songs like “Brand New You,” “I Don’t Want to Be,” and “The Call” all exhibit more pop sensibilities than if Hall & Oates got together with Huey Lewis to cover Rihanna’s discography. Each of the ten songs are probably catchier than the hypothetical musical lovechild of Michael Jackson and Will Schuester, and any random song you select will display more technical virtuosity in a three-minute auditory frenzy of delightful harmonies and resplendent melodies than John Coltrane could ever hope to produce in an entire gig. The vocal percussion is ravishing, production on the album is supurb, and the vocals mesh in only the most tantalizingly mesmeric combinations that make your heart (and groin) go pitter-patter.

Clearly, upon my first listen of Extremities I experienced a slight tingle in a particular extremity of my own. But multiple listens of the album can prove invaluable, providing a deeper sense of the true meanings behind Extreme Measures chipper vocals. In “The Voice Within,” for instance, the line “dum dum dmmmmmmm da da” subtly hints at a hidden darkness lurking in the hearts of man, which we all feebly try to cover up by surrounding ourselves with material goods and unsubstantial romance, while in “Ignorance” the interplay between lyrics about how much Hayley Williams likes change and more incomprehensible lines like “sjaw dot du chaut jot sjaw dot du chaut jot” evoke the inner turmoil that can arise in your soul when former loved ones start treating you like a stranger.

When the album comes to a close with “Sound of Silence,” you will probably be left with only your thoughts about the astounding beauty you just experience and a pool of your own urine — an unfortunate side-effect of aural pleasure as powerful as that produced by Extremities. Luckily, this predicament can easily be cured by purchasing more copies of the album. Scientific studies have already determined that owning a copy of Extreme Measures’ Extremities will make you five times cooler, six times more intelligent, and last at least 12.78 minutes longer in bed.

OVERALL RATING: Drip drip drop there goes an eargasm

Extremities by Extreme Measures can be purchased from iTunes HERE.