shitty-ass song o’ the day: “all mixed up,” 311

verily, the popular music of the ’90s was a vapid pile of shit. for the most part, the airwaves were dominated by stale, angst-y, same-sounding grunge songs mixed with glossy, overproduced, soulless pop, belligerent gangsta rap, and spineless country. throw in brief attempts at mainstream success by the goth and industrial camps, zeitgeist-raping dreck like “mambo #5” and “the macarena,” and the bookending nightmare of the last gasp of hair metal/power ballads and the absolutely shitkicking combination of hip hop with rock, and it was a decade-long ren fairre-level of awful.

this last group was wonderfully epitomized and even tweaked by 311. melding white boy funk, white boy hip hop, and white boy rock into a powerful white boy machine of nasally vocals, ridiculous lyrics, and all encompassing radio ubiquity. after gaining some campus-level popularity in the mid-to-late part of the decade, around the same time american radio listeners were about to be tricked into their tempestuous love affair with the gallagher brothers and “cumbersome,” 311 became radio staples with a trio of shitty, unspeakably annoying and overplayed singles. finally, bong-sucking trust fund brahs could fill the void of an appropriate soundtrack to which they could merrily hack and date rape that legend, dave matthews bootlegs, and sublime couldn’t.

i fucking hate 311, so to honor that hatred, here’s one of their ridiculous songs, popularized again in 2007 in beatbox fashion by that one american idol beatboxing guy.

“all mixed up”
You’ve got to trust your instinct
And let go of regret
You’ve got to bet on yourself now star
‘Cause that’s your best bet

Watch me now with a wicked and wild and I said
We come with the funky style
That gets us known for the show
And we’ll mix the hip hop reggae if we say it is so
And fuck the naysayers cause they don’t mean a thing
‘Cause this is what style we bring

Now it’s morning but last night’s on my mind
There’s something I need to get off my chest
And no matter what may come to shine
The dream will always be mine

All mixed up you don’t know what to do
Next thing you turn around and find the person is you
Thought a freak might be the thing
But the first could be the last so just get off your ass
All mixed up you don’t know what to do
Next thing you turn around and find the person is you
Thought a freak might be the thing
But you know this will pass so just get off your ass

You’ve got to trust your instinct and let go of regret
You’ve got to bet on yourself now star
‘Cause that’s your best bet

Watch me now with a wicked and wild and I said
Sick sick bit got to have it
Like bustin’ in on a session but you got to call it quits
Sick sick bit just can’t quit
Fact that you don’t even know makes it fully legit

Now it’s morning but last night’s on my mind
There’s something I need to get off my chest
And no matter what will come to shine
The dream will always be mine

You keep me coming,
That is a gal that’l kill ‘dem stunning,
Keep me coming,
That is a gal that’l kill ‘dem stunning,
Keep me coming,
That is a gal that’l kill ‘dem stunning,
Keep me coming,
That is a gal that’l kill ‘dem stunning,

You make me nervous throat dry
My brain is empty don’t know why
But I saw you doing something
Which is really truly nothing
But you could bust me out all day

Many moons since first I saw you
Many moons since first we did the do
Many moons since first I saw you
Many moons since first we did the do

And why did I try when I knew it was no and
Why did I try when I saw it was so
But save it for late we should just let it skate
Cause the waiting feel is fine

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