Courtesy of the weekly Waffles articles… closed site membership, so I’m forced to repost here. Definitely worth a few 
’s.
The Bad Touch
By spiritstereo
2008-03-02
What makes a rock song truly great? Certainly endurance – a consistent audience for subsequent years seems like a reasonable qualification. But what other criteria are there for such a claim? For one, to serve the purpose that rock songs serve in the fullest sense possible. This requires two distinctions – firstly, a definition of the word “rock music”, and secondly, a definition of its purpose. Both of these ideas, of rock music and rock music’s purpose, have been interpreted in a variety of fashions, and many of these interpretations can sit happily side by side. For example, I can find a song perfect to listen to when I’m sad or when happy; when it’s summer or when it’s winter. I can consider Puddle of Mudd, Death Cab For Cutie, New Order, The Beatles, My Bloody Valentine, and Mastodon “rock”, even though the tendrils holding these together (pop structure and guitars) are tenuous at best.
However, I would like to define these criteria in the most “mainstream” sense possible; the sense which guides popular rock songs to their positions on the tops of billboard charts. The first criterion would be the prevalence of accessible, guitar-based pop progressions, styles, and melodies that the majority of people can find enjoyable. Secondly, its purpose is generally to provide enjoyment towards the end of a successful party – that is, that it can be recognized, danced to, and sung along with. It must also provide a bit of illicit excitement—that rock music thrill that can be traced back to Elvis’ hips that has reached the present day through Mick’s swagger, Nancy’s boots, Michael’s dance moves, Madonna’s dresses, Johnny’s sneer, Kurt’s anger and a multitude of contemporary imitators—one that is generally sexually connotative in nature. Combine these two criteria with the criterion of endurance and you have a very short list. From each decade I can think of only a few, and even the few I can think of have struggled to withstand the test of time.
Elvis Presley’s “Hound Dog” had a revolutionary groove, and its commercial success fueled many a sock hop. Nevertheless, its allure and thrill have disappeared as it recedes from memory into a quaint relic, with its hips and metaphors radically tame for our less repressed time. The Beatles’ “Twist And Shout” can still rile some to dance, but the shock at John Lennon’s blown vocal chords is slight, and a twisting dance move is hardly a sexual turn-on. Similarly, Michael Jackson’s array of danceable guitar-oriented hits have lost much of their boundary-pushing nature. Madonna’s “Like A Prayer” is generally still somewhat risqué, especially if viewed with its black Jesus/boyfriend video, but the number of startled listeners seem to be growing smaller as the tune becomes more dated and society becomes more permissive. Dexy’s Midnight Runners’ “Come On Eileen” is still fairly well known, and its Celtic dance rhythms seem immortal, but like most others it has become an 80’s relic. Other hits are no longer as party friendly, let alone shocking, like Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit”, whose once angst-ridden grunge guitar riffs are now acceptably heard in the writing of their descendents, and whose lyrics were even then unintelligible to some.
I would like to argue, however, that there is one song that has—and will—stand this test of time to become – yes – the ultimate rock song. This is where I expect that things will get controversial, and where objective examples must be put away. I believe wholeheartedly that the culmination of the rock era occurred when the Bloodhound Gang finished crafting the masterpiece that is “The Bad Touch”.
Who even listens to that song anymore, one might ask. Well, I encourage you to try it out at the next party you attend where the music collection is diverse and not guarded by iPod nazis. Granted, the average age of listeners might have to be under 26 years old, but of course the endurance criterion of a lasting tune is future oriented, not past. As soon as the inaugurating sample hits, ears will prick up. Everyone knows the song – in its brief year of exposure it burrowed its way into the collective unconscious in the way that only flawlessly crafted pop can. The electronic dance beat, which was so prevalent in the late 90’s fad of music like Daft Punk’s “One More Time” and less respectable Eurodance (Eiffel 65, Aqua), is simple and timeless enough to resonate both in this age of Kanye West’s Daft Punk resurrection, as well as in future eras of electronic musical innovation. And even after nearly a decade, it still contains the most explicit double entendres that unedited radio fodder can still play without censure in this age of the Patriot Act.
The anthemic and oft-quoted chorus “You and me baby ain’t nothing but mammals/So let’s do it like they do on the Discovery Channel” represents the peak of the Bloodhound Gang’s provocative style, sublimating their chauvinistic tendencies into a universally relatable pop-culture tale of fantasized lust. Its hilarious explicitness is too gritty and cutting to ever really lose its shock value, but cleverly concealed enough to transcend the banal anatomical lessons that most sexually deviant songs, including others by the Bloodhound Gang itself, tend to more openly celebrate. The comical use of alliteration and common cultural references, e.g. “the Discovery Channel”, sets it above somewhat analogous but more morose counterparts like Nine Inch Nails’ “Closer”. The fact that its sexual thrill is deliberately communicated through well-known and lasting cultural allusions rather than in blunt expletives makes it more likely that it will transcend both time and changing tastes, well into future generations who have no idea about the band’s otherwise obscene antics.
The combination of these attributes will solidify “The Bad Touch”at the top of the rock and roll pantheon. The sexual thrill of songs from more repressed eras will never endure, especially as that rush was generally intertwined with the acts that accompanied the music. The Bloodhound Gang’s explicitness, on the other hand, which straddles the boundary between deviously inappropriate and popularly acceptable – a feat which must be accomplished in order to fulfill rock’s primary allure – is infinite and built into the lyrics themselves. They border on misogyny yet distance themselves enough from being truly offensive to almost vindicate them from the dirty inferences they obviously seek to incite. The electronic dance beat of the song is modern enough to stay current, but simple enough to not become dated. The melodies are infectious and maintain that old pop tradition, dating back to the earliest pop music, of simple progressions of notes which get stuck in your head and keep you humming the tune all day. Finally, the origin of it as a pure mainstream “guilty pleasure” ensures that it will be widely known as a classic of its era.
There is often bickering about the greatest rock music of all time, and countless lists have compiled and recompiled. This inquiry will likely continue for decades to come. But there is a simple answer, defined by those same simple criteria of endurance, pop sensibility, and challenge to the status quo. I believe it is one that has proven and will continue to prove itself as the greatest rock song ever created – “The Bad Touch”.
