Wednesday, February 9, 2011

My Name Is Sue and I’m a Singer

Okay, I am mentally ill. There’s no other explanation for what I’m doing to myself.

Against my better judgment, I further investigated the Scottish (and fake Japanese) pop singer Aneka further in hopes of seeing what other weirdness she might have wrought upon the pop fans of the 80s. This search led to the 1982 song “Ooh Shooby Doo Doo Lang.” Yes, I typed that correctly. I found the video on YouTube. I watched it. You can too, but I should warn you now that the song itself represents some sort of bastard child sired by Julie Andrews, UB40 and getting stabbed in the brain.

You were warned.

Seriously. This was a thing.

I don’t think I’m overstepping in announcing that I don’t know what the fuck this is supposed to be. On one hand, the narrative of the song introduces a situation common in the music industry but rarely sung about: the behind-the-scenes person who has a hand in pop hits but who is hidden from the public. I have to take a few issues:
  • The background mural appears to feature a man in blackface, in case we didn’t suspect this musical trend of racism already. 
  • The background dancers seem weirdly sexualized. 
  • Conversely, Aneka is dressed like gangster for no reason I can understand. 
  • She’s smiling way too much for someone who is ostensibly bemoaning their lack of fame. 
  • Given Aneka’s status as a one-hit wonder, I feel like the lyrics might be overselling her importance to pop music. Did she really work with Stevie Wonder? Does Paul McCartney in fact call her all the time?
  • Aneka kind of looks like Princess Di, which is awkward, though I understand it’s nothing she could have foreseen. 
  • Aneka also looks like my Aunt Linda (not your problem, I understand). 
  • The song samples and shouts out to “Japanese Boy.”
  • I don’t know if I’m supposed to read meaning into the scenes gradual shift from monochrome to full color, but all of the interpretations I have for this relate to casual racism.
Please, someone just answer the question “What the fuck?” and I’ll be okay.

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