Aqua's breakout hit, Barbie Girl, is one of those special kind of songs that you won't ever admit to loving with all your soul because it's so inexcusably awful. Yet, like the time when your hormones started doing funny things to you, and the 13 year old boy who wasn't capable of growing any facial hair pass bum-fluff suddenly became your everything, the sense of nostalgia draws you back. It's probably why Aqua are exclusively played at student piss-ups and throw-back '90s parties with that all sacred charity shop purchase of the Now That's What I Call The '90s album.
In a similar way to the downfall of the scrunchie and the Peter Andre curtain haircut, Aqua were part of the rejects of the dawn of the noughties. Their style didn't fit in with the bumping and happening 2000s and their brief popularity sunk to the depths that many other trends faced, never to be seen again. And, with the soaring interest in everything '90s related, even the Tumblr community haven't bothered trying to resurrect the band.
Well, we were all wrong, because Aqua - after an eleven year hiatus - returned with a third studio album, Megalomania. With all the key members on board for another attempt at riding the tidal wave of pop music (lead vocalists Lene Nystrøm and René Dif, guitarist Claus Norreen and keyboardist Søren Rasted) Aqua certainly weren't fucking around - they had a new re-vamped and sexy image to fit in with the current Top 40 chart climate, too.
While the album hasn't made its official debut on international shores (it was only ever released in Denmark), there is a thing called the internet where people upload stuff that you may not be able to access in your own country. Thanks internet.
Or maybe not.
Eric Cartman, the lead singer of the now-defunct religious group, notoriously plagiarised other artists' work, removing recognisble words to the hits the populace all knew and loved and replacing these phrases with Jesus.
I'm not saying it, but I totally am.
"DJ, DJ on the floor/Who's your slutty, little whore?"
Not even sure Paris Hilton would be playing this one in her setlist.
When done well, art has the power to show how the perverse and obsessive side of love can be damaging, both directly and indirectly.
Kill Myself is an example of this theme when it castrates its own balls. It truly comes into its shockingly bad element when the following lines are delivered: "I would kill myself for you/I will kill myself if I had to, to, to/'Cause I wanna waste my life on you."
At least Lene is aware that her life is being wasted on the ode of her affection that is embodied in the corpse-like, drummed out noises of Kill Myself, a song that feebly tries to pass itself off as a legitimate Romeo and Juliet style anthem.
Maybe, Lene, he fucks you like a robot because...you are actually a robot? It would explain a lot of things, most importantly why I am finding it extremely challenging to find anything of worth in Megalomania, but it would also give a great subtext to the song.
You know, like any of the tracks so far have actually ever heard of that word.
Viva Las Vegas is such an uptempo, joyful anthem; a deserving tribute to one of the most well known cities in the world. It makes me want to jump on a plane right now and gamble all my life savings away and rub up against some sexy showgirls waving one hand in the air (and definitely not caring) and the other popping a bottle of bubbly.
Excuse me, just for a second...
Okay, moving on.
You'd be able to play it at an under-five party without worrying about any fuck bombs being dropped randomly and inappropriately.
I'm going to go out on a whim here and say this is probably as good, and complementary on my part, as it's going to get.
Everyone involved with the songwriting process, please take note:
Just because you assume that I'll automatically want to come and get it doesn't mean that I will, nor that I really want to. In fact, it is a massive no-no if you keep chasing me around, persuading me into doing something that I don't want to do because of your foolish assumptions on a particular act (or series of acts) I have expressed no interest being apart of with you. It's totally weird and uncomfortable and I'd knee someone in the dick and run a mile if these 'sweet nothings' were sung into my ear.
Aqua, I don't mean to use language that you aren't familiar with and undermine your intelligence as much as you have done to me with the mere existence of this song, but there is one burning question I'd like for you to answer that has been puzzling me for quite some time: Are you dizzy, blud? Seriously. Are you fucking dizzy?
To come to the patronising conclusion that I - and your dedicated listeners - have no idea what "going downtown" means is anything but cool. You don't stop there, either. Because, yeah, I really like to hear you belittling a chick who likes to suck famous dudes wangs by referring to her as a "star fucker." It's not like the majority of the populace don't like giving and receiving blowies or anything.
More to the point, what are you trying to get at here? What purpose does your song serve to the pop music community? Are you attempting to make a social commentary that the subject of Sucker for a Superstar, who is clearly the depiction of women everywhere, has no idea who real stars are like The Beatles and The Rolling Stones? Or, are you hatching a plan to brainwash impressionable minds into using their mouths for tasting old, stale cocks like Ronnie Wood and Paul McCartney?
If that is your masterful, devious plan just give me a moment to take a dump, bottle it up, and throw it at each and everyone of your band's faces.
René, here's a little bit of advice for you: Those pick-up lines you've been using? You know the ones I'm talking about right? No? Sure, buddy? Okay, well let me remind you what you said in Be My Saviour Tonight, shall I?
"Come closer, let me see what's inside of that dress", was the line that came to mind as being quite a difficult chat-up for a lady you'd like to undress and have sexy times with.
Look, I'm telling you because I care about the way that you may treat women in the future and just your general outlook on life, so please take this moment to listen when I say that your rehearsed (but not really thought out) quips wouldn't even work on a chick who's travelling subconsciously into different dimensions on Ketamine, so quit while you're ahead mate.
Aqua, you really want to know if I'm feeling alright and how I'm doing?
Well, to be honest with you, I'm tired of of a lot of things like you, the regret of deciding to write about this album and especially - above all else - listening to this song.
There are some things in life that we can all live perfect, happy existences without. Guys, you've pretty much solidified yourselves as one of those things.
"My father said to me/When I was two years old/That I could walk on my own."
Damn, Lene, you've got excellent memory. I wouldn't even have thought I was alive before six if photographic evidence showed me otherwise, let alone remember words that my old man had mentioned in passing before I could properly speak.
Once my initial surprise of Lene's elephant-like memory subsided, I thought about the nugget of wisdom her daddy gave to her when she was still in shit-stained nappies, leading me to the conclusion that she is probably telling a little bit of a porky here.
I get that she's trying to pass on her knowledge of the world and experiences to others, maybe a younger generation who have chanced upon Megalomania and the Aqua name for the first time. All I know is she doesn't have to go and outright lie about it, like the pearls of wisdom would mean something entirely different if she'd clocked up that age range to something slightly more believable.
But, whatever. What do I know about songwriting, anyway? I'm just another dickhead who runs a half-arsed blog with barely anything of worth or interest to say, in the seas of other dickheads with slightly better blogs on the World Wide Web, so why take the time to read my ever-so glowing thoughts on this shining pillar of pop music in this new decade? Because Megalomania is one of the worst - if not the worst - album I've ever heard and I am saving you from ever having to suffer the horror, that's why.
It's a confused wreck of a listening experience; an ear-bleeding catastrophe that should never have seen the light of day and I'll do everything in my humanly power to keep possible listeners at bay. Your lives will be so much better for it, I promise.
For what you've put me through, Aqua, I could do far worse than leave this as my parting gift for you: