Unless you live under a rock or something, you know that Christmas is right around the corner: the time of year to enjoy moments with you family and friends, to tweet pictures of glasses of eggnog, and, most importantly, to play Christmas classics over the radio Spotify.
A song undoubtedly not on this mountain, however, is Jose Feliciano’s “Feliz Navidad.” I’m not saying that “Feliz Navidad” is a bad song, of course. That would be racist[1]. All I’m saying is that it doesn’t really hold up to other Christmas classics.
But I can be swayed. And that’s why the editors made me I decided to study the lyrics of Feliciano’s holiday classic in full, in order to get a better idea of why this song is such a holiday classic…and maybe decide to include it on the Christmas song Mount Rushmore after all. Continue reading →
As you’ve no doubt heard and been horribly confused, shocked, or weirdly aroused by at this point, a Norweigian band named Ylvis has recently released a viral song dubbed “The Fox” that has one simple purpose – to search for and discover the sound of elusive fox. However, in their apparently simple search, they uncover some complex truths about human nature, theist religion systems, and the noise that a doggy makes.
To help you explore all of these phenomena, Sherman Ave has extensively researched to provide a detailed explanation of the meaning behind Ylvis’ “The Fox.”
If you are an avid Sherman Ave reader, then you likely have seen our line by line analysis of Macklemore and Ryan Lewis’s chart topping hit “Thrift Shop.” Or if you are a casual reader you have probably seen the article too–it’s our most viewed article of all time, which just speaks to how fantastic the song is.
Thrift Shop has achieved many firsts in terms of its chart performanc. It was the second ever independent song at number one and held that place for 6 weeks, and its reign would have lasted into perpetuity were it not knocked down halfway through its tenure by the Harlem Shake, because apparently Youtube clips of a song count towards a song’s total plays. But really have you listened to more than 30 seconds of Harlem Shake? If you have then you definitely didn’t do it a second time. That song sucks.
How could we as a society commemorate a song that brought irony to the forefront of the mainstream, that brought a generation together through identifying with a culture it doesn’t really understand, that pissed off your friends from Seattle cause they knew about it when it came out (that was back in last August. When Todd Akin was still culturally relevant). How do we honor it? We better Kidz Bop this mothafucka.
So the new Macklemore & Ryan Lewis album The Heist just dropped and basically it’s fucking awesome. I’ve decided to take a look at one of the more remarkable tracks off the album, “Thrift Shop.” Here now begins a lyrical analysis of the above song.
“What, what, what, what, what….
From the outset, the listener’s curiosity is piqued, building into the sexy saxophone hook.
I’m gonna pop some tags/ only got 20 dollars in my pocket
Limited by a frustrating, Obama’s America budget, Macklemore, speaking through Wanz, is nevertheless determined to refresh his wardrobe with some novel accouterments.
I, I, I’m hunting, lookin’ for a come-up/ This is fucking awesome.
The artist is unable to contain his excitement as he searches for a surprise new fashion trend, which he himself shall inspire. Certainly, the pleasure lies in the pursuit.
Walk into the club like what up, I got a big cock/I’m so pumped, I bought some shit from a thrift shop
Fast forward now to a moment in which Mackelmore’s newfound discount “swag” is already prominently on display at a discotheque. His braggadocio—or is it genuine honesty? —well suits his fresh duds. Macklemore now confirms our suspicion: that his fantastic fur coat came at a discounted purchase, and that he derives excitement from that fact.
Ice on the fringe is so damn frosty, /The people like “damn, that’s a cold ass honkey”
Macklemore ascribes his incredibly rare and valuable discovery as something akin to a diamond, or “ice,” which, when found “on the fringe,” or outside of the conventional realm, is especially “cool” or “frosty.” The extraordinary nature of his find has the crowd’s attention and respect.
Rollin’ in hella deep, headed to the mezzanine/Dressed in all pink, except my gator shoes, those are green. /Draped in a leopard mink girls standin’ next to me/Probably should have washed this, it smells like R. Kelly’s sheets
On his way to the entresol with a number of disciples, Macklemore reveals that his fur coat was only an appetizer to something much greater. For him, pink is not for cancer supporters, little girls, or real men. Rather, it is for those who would dare to demonstrate a remarkable sense of style and, further, to be shod in the skin of a deadly fresh-water predator. Adorned with additional super intensely awesome animal skins and fine women to boot, Macklemore suddenly discovers the chink in the armor (LOLJeremyLinLOL), his very own Achilles’ Heel. For all the grandeur of his garb, his perfume is not so sweet. Nay, it is reminiscent of a certain R&B artist’s alleged proclivity to relieve himself onto young women, to “turn [their faces] into a toilet seat, as it were.[1]
Pissssssssssssss/But shit, it was 99 cents. /Bought it, coppin’ it, washin’ it.
Highly effective onomatopoeia precedes Macklemore’s unapologetic explanation for the scent, as well as his willingness to address the issue at a future point in time.
‘Bout to go and get some compliments passin’ off in those moccasins/Someone else has been walkin’ in, but me and grungie fuckin’ ‘em/I am stuck in a closet and savin’ my money/And I’m hella happy, that’s a bargain, bitch.
Here, Macklemore documents further instances in which he demonstrates observers’ appreciation for his second-hand style.
Imma take your grandpa’s style, imma take your grandpa’s style, /No, for real I asked your grandpa, can I have his hand-me-downs?
Now Macklemore turns on the listener. He’s going to steal YOUR grandpa’s style. OUR COLLECTIVE GRANDPA’S STYLE. Technically, since both of my grandfathers are dead, I’m exempt from all of this. Still, he’s taking our entitlements. OUR OBAMA-GIVEN ENTITLEMENTS.
The lord’s jumpsuit and some house slippers, /Dookie brown leather jacket that I found diggin’. /They had a broken keyboard, I bought a broken keyboard/ I bought a skeet blanket, then I bought a kneeboard.
Don’t ask what a skeet blanket is. Seriously, don’t. Well, you don’t really need to, since I guess it’s pretty fucking obvious. Not sure about the need for a broken keyboard, that just seems wasteful, but maybe Macklemore likes fixer uppers. But a kneeboard? Oh hell yes. Way better than tubing or waterskiing. Also good if you suffer from paraplegia.
Arguably the funkiest white man since Michael Jackson
Hello, hello, my ace man, my mello/John Wayne ain’t got nothing on my fringe game,
Hell no! I can take some pro wings make ‘em cool, sell those/ The sneaker heads will be like “Ah he got the Velcro.”
When I first heard these lines, I thought Macklemore was saying that John Wayne had nothing on “my French gay Elmo.” I like my version better. Fringe game makes a lot more sense though. Also, Velcro on shoes needs to come back. Laces are the worst.
I’m gonna pop some tags
Only got 20 dollars in my pocket
I, I, I’m hunting, lookin’ for a come-up
This is fucking awesome. (x2)
What you know ‘bout rockin’ the wolf on your noggin/What you knowin’ about wearing a fur fox skin/I’m digging, I’m digging, I’m searching right through that luggage/One man’s trash, thats another man’s come-up. /Thanking gran dad, for donating that plaid button-up shirt/‘cause right now I’m up in here stuntin’ I’m at the Goodwill, you can find me in the Benz, /I’m not, I’m not, I’m not searching in that section.
This is the part of the song that separates the dedicated lip-syncing sing-along assholes from the rest. These lyrics aren’t particularly remarkable except that they’re delivered so rapidly and so stylishly. I gave up just reading through this section. I do like the idea of a wolf on my noggin though. But according to Macklemore, I wouldn’t know anything about that.
Your grandma, your aunties, your momma, your mammy, /I’ll take those flannel zebra ‘jammies secondhand, I’ll rock that motherfucker. /They built-in onesie with the socks on the motherfucker.
Macklemore is going shopping with the females of your extended family. Further, he’s going to take that snuggie fad and turn it on its head by bringing back the adult onesie. Wait, did that already happen? I guess it hasn’t happened with USED onesies yet. Certainly not flannel zebra onesies. Personally, my feet always got too hot when I wore a onesie with the socks on the motherfucker. I felt that way as a 2-year old, I still feel it now. Macklemore can keep his zebra onesies.
I hit the party and they stopped in that motherfucker. /They be like oh! That Gucci, that’s hella tight. /I’m like Yo! That’s 50 dollars for a t-shirt. /Limited edition, let’s do some simple addition, 50 dollars for a t-shirt, that’s just some ignorant bitch shit. /I call that getting swindled and pimped, shit. /I call that getting tricked by a business. /That shirt’s hella dough/ and having the same one as six other people in this club is a hella don’t.
Peep game, come take a look through my telescope/Trying to get girls with brands, then you hella won’t. /Man, you hella won’t.
Macklemore now engages in an extended, poignant rant about the unreasonable, even criminal costs associated with modern style. 50 dollars for a t-shirt, indeed. The modern textile industry, evolved from its horribly abusive and exploitative relationship with cheap labor, has now begun to harmfully manipulate consumers. Not only is modern style too expensive, but with it also comes a lack of creativity. What brand could compete with the originality of Macklemore’s thrift shop-inspired style? Chumps who sport brand names certainly cannot keep up with Macklemore’s romantic talents, piss-smell and all.
I’m gonna pop some tags
Only got 20 dollars in my pocket
I, I, I’m hunting, looking for a come-up
This is fucking awesome.
I wear your granddad’s clothes, /I look incredible, /I’m in this big ass coat, from that thrift shop down the road. (x2)
Wanz now adds to the chorus, implementing the previous information about taking your geriatric elder’s style. Not only will he take said style, he will look really fucking awesome in it too. Get it? Fucking awesome? Yeah.
I’m gonna pop some tags
Only got 20 dollars in my pocket
I, I, I’m hunting, looking for a come-up
This is fucking awesome.
Is that your grandma’s coat?
Well, is it?
*Credit to RapGenius.com for its passive assistance with interpreting the lyrics and also intuiting certain concepts/phrases that my honky ass cannot comprehend. [1] NOT GUILTY BETCHES. I’m a grown ass man, amirite?
Hey Wildcat’s! It’s the fourth quarter. It’s time to finish! So let’s put your hands up in the air while we try and figure out what the hell this song is about!
Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
Danzel begins his anthem with an imperative. More command than mere request, Wildcat fans are instructed to throw their hands up in the air to start the fourth quarter off right with a communal movement that celebrates the fleeting temporal relationship between a television timeout and the Northwestern secondary’s imminent collapse.
Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
A reiteration of Danzel’s requisition, harkening back to the initial invocation presented to fans through the luminous jumbotron specter at Ryan Field. There are only so many permutations with which one can raise one’s hands up in the air, but such trifles are not of concern to men like Danzel or Kain Colter.
16x: Air
Bridging the gap between the transcendent heavens and the solid gridiron where mortals run the spread is air — surrounding us, within us, throughout us — air, the wind modern man has breathed for longer than approximately 3,174.60 NU bowl droughts. Like Pat Fitzgerald, we return to the essence that begot us with arms open wide to the infinite blue beyond.
Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
God, I could just do this shit all motherfucking day.
Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
Are they flashing WNBA scores up on the scoreboard? Oh wait, that’s just the Indiana final.
Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
Danzel utilizes repetition to depict the subtle interplay between the verticality of your limbs and your levels of ampitude. This is a complex relationship that the 20,000 or so Nebraska fans in the stadium will never quite appreciate.
Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
Were the rights to Taio Cruz’s “Dynamite” really that expensive?
Yo party people come out sayin’ yeah
Party people come out sayin’ yeah
Danzel rapidly changes perspectives, venturing into the mind of party people. Although a bold display of empathy, I have to admit that when party people normally come out to my ragers, they normally say things like “Oh, you were serious about the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory theme?” or “Man, it’s been such a long time since I’ve drank anything cheaper than Sköl!” Maybe Belgian party people just rage a little… differently than we do here.
Feel the vibe
And it’s gettin’ stronger
After setting up his song with repeated exposition viz a viz our hands in the air, Danzel announces his intention to delve into the atmosphere he and his audience have mutually created, expounding upon the aura, or “vibe,” that his beats have created within Ryan Field.
Feel the vibe
And it’s gettin’ stronger
Taken out of context, this line sounds exactly as stupid and/or sexual as it does within the context of this song.
GET THOSE HANDS UP IN THE MOTHERFUCKING AIR!!!
Party people come out sayin’ yeah
Party people come out sayin’ yeah
If any party people have somehow avoided raising there hands up in the air, now is the time for them to come out like a Freshman during Wildcat Welcome Week.
Party people come out, come out..
yo, Dj turn it on
LET’S GO ROUND TWO!!!
Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
Oh God. There are only so many times I can put my hands up in the air… I think my forearms are more sore than Monica Lewinsky’s in the Oval Office. Must. Keep. Getting. Pumped.
Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
A bit of biographical information on Danzel. Born “Johan Waem,” the musician broke out of a perpetual cycle of chocolate addiction in the waffle house slums of Antwerp that plagues so many other young Belgians with his deep passion for house, techno, dance music, and getting you PUMPED for the fourth quarter of football games.
Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
Surprisingly, this song peaked at Number 6 in the UK Dance Charts in 2005 but never garnered much interest anywhere else. How the hell it became an NU tradition is anyone’s guess.
Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
Speaking of which, can something really be a “tradition” if it was instituted less than two years after we elected our current president? Looking at you, March Through the Arch.
[INSTRUMENTAL BREAK]
Danzel takes a quick break from pumping you up, providing ample time for the jumbotron to display pre-meds dancing more awkwardly than Mitt Romney at a RZA show.
Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
What Northwestern lacks in terms of facilities, season-ticket holders, or a pass rushing attack, it more than makes up for with its fan base’s threatening ability to raise its hands up in the air for extended periods of time.
Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
GET SOME, UNIVERSITY OF SOUTH DAKOTA!!! Yippee ki-yay, motherfuckers.
Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
I assume this is also what House Republicans said when they held the government hostage this spring. On an unrelated note: I bet love to see Paul Ryan play running back. The dude makes social welfare cuts quicker than Venric Mark on a kick return.
Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
The strength of Danzel’s mantra lies in its specific spatial reference point. The bard is imploring his audience to place their hands — one of the most essential tools of the human body — in the very oxygen we breathe, interweaving the supple protoplasm of man with the zephyrous troposphere that sustains us.
[FADEOUT]
Wildcat fans are led to believe that Danzel’s jam will continue ad nauseam, a never ending ode to the power of triumphantly raising one’s hands in the air into perpetuity in order to raise stokeage levels at Ryan Field to near illegal levels in Evanston.
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.
Sherman Ave 
