my power pop addiction, no. 83 (155)

god bless Kirsty MacColl for having written and performed the ultimate theme song for those of us who live the pop life. The song cleanses my soul, emptying every last drop of hurt and bitterness out of me. The melody caresses my face with its tingly perfection, and consumes my body with warmth, making me feel as if I’m back in the womb, or lying entwined with the love of my life… MacColl doesn’t have a great singing voice by any stretch, occasionally coming up just a semitone or so flat on some of the notes, but there’s an innocence and earnestness there that’s far more affecting than any pitch-perfect singing performance could ever be. The flaws in her voice actually add something, and I like appreciating people for their flaws, possibly because I have a deep-down fairy tale wish that there’s somebody someplace out there in the universe who will appreciate me for mine. They Don’t Know About Us gives me hope that this is still possible. Maybe it’s the part where she sings, we should just take our chances while we’ve got nothing to lose. Or maybe it’s the way the song’s tunefulness makes me sway and tilt my face up towards the sky. Or maybe it’s the song’s unabashed sentimentality, an expression of tenderness and love for some lucky guy, warts and all. Or maybe it’s that the song is sung from the point of view of someone who’s misunderstood by everybody except the person who matters most to her. It’s probably all of these things. The song, in short, is the pop life put to music, and I adore every splendorous moment of it…