Yesterday I posted a list of six potential summer jams—those songs that will be inescapable in the city this summer. But by limiting myself to only songs that I liked, I blinded myself to the song that is probably going to be as inescapable-slash-suffocating this summer as LMFAO’s “Party Rock Anthem” was last summer. Ladies and gentlemen, meet Wallpaper. (yes, with a period—punctuation is huge in 2K12), a Bay Area outfit whose frontman claims to be more than “a sweet pair of shades and a gold-plated microphone”—he’s actually “you and me and everyone we know on our best night ever, positively #STUPiDFACEDD, champagnin’ with no plans in the morning.” (Hashtag his.) In keeping with his superlative ways, the single that he just released is called “FUCKING BEST SONG EVERRR,” or in its cleaned-up-for-broadcast version “BEST SONG EVERRR.” The first time I heard it I was kind of horrified; the fifth time I heard it I realized that it is going to be huge by, say, this time next month. Six reasons why, along with its video (which I think was partially inspired by Chris Weingarten coining the term “glitter-puke” here a couple of years back), below.
1. The way it opens with “My name is [space] and I’m a alcoholic.”
Remember those records that your parents could special-order for you, the ones that told a story with your name spliced in at crucial junctures? Wallpaper. apparently does, and wants even those people whose names are made up of phenomes that don’t exist in those companies’ sound libraries to get in on the action. Kind of a genius move, one that almost obviates the risk of opening a song with 12-step patter.
2. The instrumentation, which, while sparse, manages to combine the vague exoticism of “Mr. Saxobeat” with the whomp-you-over-the-head party-rock synths of LMFAO’s most potent work.
The upper reaches of the charts might indicate that we’re nearing the end of the period where four-on-the-floor house dominates pop radio, and if that’s the case, this would sure make for a terrific final wheeze with the way it combines the aesthetics of two of the genre’s biggest radio hits.
3. The “bilingualism” in the pre-chorus.
Mostly the line “margaritas and microwave pizzas,” which seems tailor-made to be posted to Facebook walls from now until… well, May 2013 at least.
4. The all-caps title.
HEY DID YOU KNOW THAT IN THE INTERNET AGE PEOPLE HAVE TO MAKE A GRAND STATEMENT IN ORDER TO GET HEARD?
5. The musicality of the chorus, which sounds like a dorm singalong accompanied by the guy who always plays guitar in the common area and the guy who keeps blowing fuses because he has like ten billion amps plugged into a single power strip.
Once again, something with a melody that’s so simple, it could probably be played with two fingers (on the same hand) wins the “irretrievable earworm” contest.
6. The lyrics of the chorus, which is pretty much the way that people who are listening to this song will talk when they are completely sloshed on rum-and-lemonades at 3 a.m. and hopping around to this track.
Not that I’ve tested out this hypothesis personally yet, but every time I hear this song I hear myself at my most thrilled and far gone and rhapsodic about my friends. Who, it should be noted, are great—it’s not like the alcohol makes me lie about that or anything. It’s just that the feelings get stronger, you know?
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on May 2, 2012