- as one disco enthusiast beautifully described, a "happy chord progression in the minor scale";
- mid-tempo percussion and bass occupying center-stage;
- electric guitar confection;
- exclamation marks from the trumpets;
- refreshingly shallow lyrics extolling the virtues of dancing
But one of the most salient characteristics of K.C.'s songs is not to be found in the above list. The chorus of one of their biggest hits illustrates the feature nicely:
Shake shake shake, shake shake shake,
Shake your booty! Shake your booty!
Oh, shake shake shake, shake shake shake,
Shake your booty! Shake your booty.
(That I had no idea -- nor to this day am I entirely sure -- what exactly booty is never diminished my enjoyment of this delicious musical tidbit one iota.) In any event, we are struck by K.C.'s propensity to repeat, in part or in entirety, the titles of his songs.
Music critics and die-hard fans often use the phrase "going commercial" or "selling out" when they feel that a musician has shifted styles, producing less serious music, in order to appeal to a broader audience. (Given that I was usually part of said broader audience, I was never bothered by this.)
But K.C.'s ploy takes the commercial angle of songwriting to a whole nother level, as they say. For it is one thing to craft a song in a style which will be pleasing to the masses, and will therefore lead to increased record sales. But it is another thing altogether to craft a song which is, in essence, an advertisement of itself. Here, the medium has truly become the message, and the message is to purchase the medium!
Indeed, one part of the K.C. song "That's The Way (I Like it)" has the backup singers whispering "That's The Way" over and over again, reminiscent of how in the 1950's, in certain movie theaters, the projectionist would flash the words "Drink Coke" on the screen, in the hopes of sending a subliminal message to the audience -- the difference being that in K.C.'s case (not to be confused with Casey Kasem), the advertisement is self-referential.
Self-referentiality is not completely absent in other items that we consume:
In contrast, consider this chorus, of a song which came out just 2 years prior to K.C.'s debut:
Abbie Hoffman's Steal This Book, with its vehemently anti-commercial title, is K.C.'s diametric opposite. Indeed, a book penned by K.C. would be entitled Buy This Book (Don't You Dare Steal It!). In fact, I have an idea for a new song for K.C., "Buy This Song (You'll Like It)". K.C., if you're reading this, the rights are yours. And if it's as good as your hits of the 70's, I just may and I probably will.
To test the veracity of this observation, I listened to three K.C. songs and counted the number of times the title appears. The results are corroborative:
- I'm Your Boogie Man: 24
- Keep It Coming Love: 33
- That's The Way (I Like It): 30
[K.C.] worked part-time in a record store. He noticed often that customers would come in not remembering the titles of the records they wanted, and the store would lose the sale — this is the reason so many of his songs repeat their titles over and over.Clearly, these early experiences had a dramatic (is it going too far to say obsessive?) impact on K.C. So the repetitiveness, far from signifying an indifference to the lyrics, was, on the contrary, a decidedly calculated move on K.C.'s part, stemming from a savvy commercial instinct.
Music critics and die-hard fans often use the phrase "going commercial" or "selling out" when they feel that a musician has shifted styles, producing less serious music, in order to appeal to a broader audience. (Given that I was usually part of said broader audience, I was never bothered by this.)
But K.C.'s ploy takes the commercial angle of songwriting to a whole nother level, as they say. For it is one thing to craft a song in a style which will be pleasing to the masses, and will therefore lead to increased record sales. But it is another thing altogether to craft a song which is, in essence, an advertisement of itself. Here, the medium has truly become the message, and the message is to purchase the medium!
Indeed, one part of the K.C. song "That's The Way (I Like it)" has the backup singers whispering "That's The Way" over and over again, reminiscent of how in the 1950's, in certain movie theaters, the projectionist would flash the words "Drink Coke" on the screen, in the hopes of sending a subliminal message to the audience -- the difference being that in K.C.'s case (not to be confused with Casey Kasem), the advertisement is self-referential.
Self-referentiality is not completely absent in other items that we consume:
- Printed material, displaying the title in the margin of each page;
- Fashion designer clothing bearing the logo;
- Car hood ornaments.
In contrast, consider this chorus, of a song which came out just 2 years prior to K.C.'s debut:
Don't you remember you told me you loved me now baby
You said you'd be coming back this way again, baby
Baby, baby, baby, baby, oh baby
I love you, I really do.
The title of this lovely Carpenters ballad? Superstar. Not only is the title completely absent from the lyrics -- one is hard-pressed to find the remotest connection in the lyrics to it. Perhaps this was one of those very songs whose title escaped a customer's memory, awakening K.C.'s keen commercial instincts.
Abbie Hoffman's Steal This Book, with its vehemently anti-commercial title, is K.C.'s diametric opposite. Indeed, a book penned by K.C. would be entitled Buy This Book (Don't You Dare Steal It!). In fact, I have an idea for a new song for K.C., "Buy This Song (You'll Like It)". K.C., if you're reading this, the rights are yours. And if it's as good as your hits of the 70's, I just may and I probably will.
