It’s 1:30 in the morning. My headphones are blaring and I’m listening to classic 90’s rap … “Ghetto Superstar” to be exact. I’m writing an article for a major hip-hop publication and I’m in the groove. I got my heading, my interview transcript in-front of me and I’m about to write. But right when I’m in the middle of my grind, “All I Wanna Do” starts blasting throughout my headphones. Some people call that a mood killer, but I’ll call it a cock block. Don’t get me wrong, I liked the song and it is so damn bubble-gum poppy that I’m forced to listen to it. But not only do I get out of the mood to write, but I after I listen to the whole song, I realize how fucked up Sheryl Crow really is.
Let me give you the background on Sheryl, here. She’s tall, attractive and back in the day, she was a back-up singer to Michael Jackson. Obviously, she has enough talent to write a really bad song and make a lot of dough off of it. And it all began with “All I Wanna Do.” So let’s find out what she wants to do and Sheryl, it’s “want to do,” not “wanna do.”
“It’s apropos of nothing he says his name is William/But I’m sure he’s Bill or Billy or Mac or buddy.”
Are you kidding me? He said his name is William. Why are you calling him Billy? Damn, you’re rude.
“We are drinking a beer at noon on Tuesday, the bar faces a giant car wash/The good people are washing their cars during their lunch break.”
Sheryl, who the hell washes their car on their lunch break? I worked in the City last year and most of the time, when they were on lunch break, they either were at the pizzeria or at the bank. Obviously, you’re a little tipsy.
“I like a good beer buzz early in the morning and Billy likes to peel the labels from his bottles of bud.”
Sheryl, that’s what we call an alcoholic. You are pretty much saying you’re shitfaced before 6:30 AM and Billy is sexually frustrated. Now, if you have another beer, you’ll probably pass out and that’s no fun … but who said it couldn’t be fun for Billy?
“He lights up every match in an oversized pack letting each one burn … Down to his thick fingers before blowing and cursing them out”
Ok, so Billy is drunk and probably a retard. And Sheryl, you notice his thick fingers and him blowing? Someone’s horny.
“Otherwise the bar is ours, the day and the night and the car wash too.”
Ok, by now you finished drunk sex and are completely hungover.
Sheryl Crow doesn’t want to have fun. She wants to have drunk sex in a car wash. That’s good for Billy, unless if he rather play with matches.
I think we all can come to two conclusions here. One, this song is terrible, lyrically. Secondly, Eric Clapton is a lucky old man.