The Mug Of Genius

Yo everyones. Ghostdog here. As a stuffy music purist, oftentimes sitting in a dusty attic listening to Latvian-funk-metal MIDI jams on grammophone (good times), I sometimes run into songs that teeter on the edge of embarrassing. I'm talking about guilty pleasures, and we all have guilty pleasures--that's what makes us human. Oh sure, Josh who works at the record store with the knit cap and the good weed, he might appear to have a flawless music collection, but everyone has skeletons in their iPods. He sits alone in his car singing along to "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing," just like the rest of us.

But sometimes, a song comes along that's a bit too catchy for it's own good. It sounds all right, and there's no immediate stigma attached to it; it's not playing on MTV or the latest episode of "America's Next Top Cougar Midget Fry Cook." But it still doesn't feel 100% right. Much in the same vein as a Baconator, the song tastes great, but it packs enough of a whallop in your gullet that you just know it's bad for you.

The song in question is "You and I Are a Gang of Losers," and the gang in question is the recently disbanded combo The Dears. They aren't especially well-known; you may have heard the song in "Zack and Miri Make a Porno," because Kevin Smith likes to use emotional songs in emotional scenes because he likes to make things obvious. Let's watch the video:

Much like Joe Biden's tie-breaking vote in the Senate, a music video will almost always settle the guilty pleasure debate. Quite simply, you get to see how seriously the band takes itself and its product; if it looks like they're too into their own Kool-Aid, chances are the song is shit. For instance, watching a Nickelback video is kind of like watching Chad Thundercock (or whatever-the-fuck his name is) jizz on a mirror image of himself. Conversely, watching a Pixies video is like watching some ugly motherfuckers dick around with a camera in their basement.

So yes, it appears the Dears are big fans of the Dears. And why not? You've got black-fugly-Morrissey, drummer-who-loves-his-sideburns, two other white guys, and two not-quite-smiling chicks I'd love to bang (I have an unhealthy obsession with the one on the right). From what I can tell, they're performing in a pregnant woman's stomach, with little children and medicine balls representin' the nasty. The Dears live together in a big house and all appear to the parents of the baby; thus, the message of the video seems to be, "Sure, if you get pregnant, you'll alienate yourself from everyone in your fancy sex harem, but it's totally worth it. Now let's eat some fucking starfruit!"

The verdict? An unabashedly emo video doesn't do a debatably emo song any favors. It's guilty. Don't get me wrong, it's okay to like, it's even okay to love, but don't tell too many people. Just remember: too much guilty pleasure will result in long-term musical retardation or pussification. To ensure a proper intellectual cleansing, I recommend Bjork or Philip Glass.