Staff Pix 11/8: SONGS WE HATE!
As we near the end of Hate Week at Milk Crate, our staff reflects on the songs we hate the most. And, don’t hate the player, hate the game.
“Today” by The Smashing Pumpkins
For as long as I can remember, I have hated The Smashing Pumpkins. From the whiny, nasally quality of Billy Corgan’s vocals to their entirely cheesy, hollow lyrics, they’re just… bad! I have a vivid memory of the first time I had ever heard one of their songs. It was seventh grade and my mom was driving me to school when the 1993 track “Today” began to play on the radio. As soon as the lyrics “today is the greatest day I’ve ever known” registered in our heads, we instantly had a physical reaction that included us bursting into laughter and promptly switching the station. She told me that she had always disliked and felt utterly irritated by their music. This distaste manifested deeply within me as I, clearly, feel passionately about their discography. For years after this event it seems that this particular Smashing Pumpkins song always taunts me as it repeatedly plays on my local radio station. Yet, to this day, both my mom and I refuse to listen to The Smashing Pumpkins. This is not to say that the band is entirely untalented and unworthy, as I love the instrumental for “Cupid De Locke,” but their music really isn’t for me, or frankly anyone who values their ears. —Sophie Parrish
“FloriDada” by Animal Collective
Pfffffff. Listening to this track makes me feel like a deadbeat loser who hates fun. And that’s not true–I love fun! “FloriDada” is the sonic equivalent to a kid tugging on your clothing to get your attention. It’s ridiculously loud and irreverent. It’s reminiscent of the most annoying meme from middle school’s past. Comparing this to Animal Collective’s masterpiece “My Girls” is saddening, honestly. These guys obviously know how to make good stuff, and this just isn't on par. Or anywhere close to it. For now, I am very excited to never hear “FloriDada” ever again as long as my fate allows it. —Sofia Giarrusso
“Ventura Highway” by America
There is a certain time where music should be non-existent (unless I’m the one playing it). The year is 2023. 2:30am. Spring semester freshman year. Over and over through the thinnest walls known to man, my neighbor’s JBL played this nail on chalkboard-esque tune. No matter how hard I banged, the nightmare wouldn't stop. I think it played a total of twenty times. Three minutes and thirty one seconds of pure artificial plastic happiness that can be mistaken as a MKUltra torture–a tune deemed too horrible for use. Relation aside, this song is only to be played by a group of self-righteous, Budweiser disciples who have gone too far in the night. I never had a problem with music before this instance but the dial turns down whenever I hear those horrifying opening chords…You don’t care, I know. —Salem Ross
“Jackie Down The Line” by Fontaines D.C.
Honestly, the absolute worst kind of music is the boring kind. Yes, it’s always fun to make light of the stuff that’s offensively bad–“Dance Monkey,” Vultures, every new Drake album, etcetera–but at the very least, there is some enjoyment to be found in that so-bad-it’s-good style of music, in the same way we enjoy terrible movies. But when the music is just completely and utterly devoid of substance, so soulless that you can’t even enjoy it ironically, that’s the only time when music gets truly grating for me. That’s how I feel about Fontaines D.C., the Irish post-punk group who over the past few years have been eulogized as one of the best bands in indie by both fans and critics. Which is crazy, considering that their music is INSANELY BORING. Fontaines D.C. are like the pinnacle of uninteresting post-punk slop, the audio equivalent of Wonder Bread and lukewarm water. Grian Chatten has absolutely nothing going for him as vocalist, and the guitar lines sound like stock Garage Band presets. But the real issue with most Fontaines D.C. songs, like “Jackie Down The Line,” is how long they are. They just go on and on and on and on and on and on with almost no change and at a certain point it does become legitimately abrasive because this guy who can barely sing just won't shut up and the guitar is just playing the same uninteresting riff on repeat but they just keep GOING and then I turn it off. Bad band. —Lucca Swain
“Everywhere” by Fleetwood Mac
Ok, this is an objectively good song. Are there better Fleetwood Mac songs? Absolutely. However, my hatred for this tune stems from a specific memory. In high school, my first job was a cashier at Panera Bread. The music we played wasn’t too bad, a mix of pop hits and calm indie songs that matched the cozy vibe that Panera tries to capture. I enjoyed cutting bread while Mac Demarco was playing. What I didn’t enjoy was hearing the twinkly intro to Fleetwood Mac’s “Everywhere” multiple times a day. Now, we played the same playlist every single day, and I wouldn’t get tired of the other songs. For some reason, this song began to irk me. It always seemed to play when it was slow and I was out of tasks. Their choir-like harmonies and repetitive chorus seemed to taunt me as I longed to be outside in the summer heat. That twinkly intro awakens a rage in me now as I’m reminded of the hours I spent at that bakery counter that summer. I go into fight-or-flight when I hear that intro, all thanks to Panera Bread. —Izzie Claudio
“American Pie” by Don McLean
Imagine this: You’re in the car with your friends. Beautiful summer day, New England coast, coming home from a sun kissed day at the beach and Billy in the passenger seat asks, “Can I queue a song?” Sure, Billy! Of course! There’s little that could squash my wonderful mood. But then those terrible first few notes hit and you know you’re in for eight minutes of patriotic babble. The piano’s good, the singing great! And oh man the energy of that final chorus! Yet amidst those wonderful parts are a sinister something gluing it together. If you listen carefully, you’ll hear something deep in that song… a dark energy festers. It’s building and we don’t even really know when it’s gonna come to attack. Never keep your back turned from Don McLean. Oh, and let’s do one more chorus! Now everybody—! —Nathan Hilyard