What a Fucken Creep

Amanda Palmer rumbling around a noisy bar playing creep on a Uke. There’s better audio available elsewhere, but there’s something gorgeous about the environment and the wandering. And the way people actually shut up sometimes. And then get involved.

Right.

So I’m just gonna get the subtext of this whole post out of the way at the beginning. Well. There’s two actually, so maybe I’ll save the other one til the end.

I wanna do a strip tease, whilst singing Creep in the cheesiest jazz swing style possible, with only a double bass accompanist. I’m picturing layers of extravagent man clothes, subtler lingerie and then just nude, in front of loads of people saying that I don’t belong here. I doubt I could manage it (keeping up the singing whilst stripping seductively that is, I think I could manage the nudity and lingerie…maybe).

Anyway, the question is, why the fuck is this song still moving and powerful. Why the hell do I still lust after it, even in lame cover version form, despite having heard it torn apart by every fucking miserable gimped out acoustic open mike night wanker who thinks he’s sensitive.

Sorry, but it’s right up there with Hallelujah in terms of ‘demonstrating musical kudos and sensitivity simultaneously, with a song that’s actually pretty easy to cover (but not to cover well, as you need a voice for that, and possibly an imagination).

Ahem.

Sorry.

The thing is, the constant reinvention of Hallelujah makes sense, because there’s like a billion verses you can use if you want to, and the original was a little boring (well…I like it, got more heart than most acoustic nights anyway). It’s also ambiguously riding between sex, love, religion and philosophy, which makes you sound clever no matter what.

But we’re not here to talk about Hallelujah, we’re here to talk about Creep.

The lyric is trite but wonderful, so lets repeat it hear, while I put on the original in the background, for my own benefit.

When you were here before,
Couldn’t look you in the eye
You’re dressed like an angel,
Your skin makes me cry

You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You’re so fucking special

But I’m a creep,
I’m a weirdo
What the hell am I doin’ here?
I don’t belong here

I don’t care if it hurts,
I wanna have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul

I want you to notice
when I’m not around
You’re so fucking special
I wish I was special

But I’m a creep
I’m a weirdo
What the hell am I doin’ here?
I don’t belong here, ohhhh, ohhhh

She’s running out the door
She’s running out
She run run run run…
run… run…

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You’re so fucking special
I wish I was special

But I’m a creep,
I’m a weirdo
What the hell am I doin’ here?
I don’t belong here

I don’t belong here…

I’ve changed just to dressed in the third line, which is how I always heard it. I’m probably wrong. But I like it better my way. Slightly less trite.

But it really is so fucking trite. Which is what baffles me, because when I was planning this post (and singing, and clicking fingers, and imagining my striptease) I was gonna say its the universality and delicacy of the lyrics.

It has it’s moments. ‘Your skin makes me cry’ for example. That’s a real set of words right there. In fact, the whole soul of the song is in that couplet, for me at least. The rest is bog standard teen indie angst.

But that’s it isn’t it. Perhaps I’m wrong to use that as an attack, after all, there’s a reason that teen angst is so ‘universally’ recognised. It’s because that’s how we function in the western world, or how we all want to. Like spoilt angry children raging against our own useless bodies, and the injustices of the world we are spawned into.

We all feel that selfish and self centred anger and hate sometimes. And we all instantly direct that hate inwards, because that’s what we do, and who we are, and that’s….

Wait up. Actually, scratch all of those generalisations and replace them with a new meta-generalisation.

Teen angst is all about assuming that everybody feels like we do, whilst simultaneously holding out our pain as unique.

I’ve suddenly got an image of beer swilling teenage lager louts with arms around necks singing along to this song at a festival, and it kinda makes me feel a little sick inside.

Because I’m an obnoxious superior wanker.

People cover this song for the same reason people like it. Because people want to not belong, because that makes them special. People want other people to be fucking special, because that makes them less than them.

You sing this song, and you say…look how different and weird I am, you guys are so much better than me. I’m below you.

With a little knowing wink to yourself to let you know that actually, you’re the best here, because of your sensitive self appraisal. Aren’t you a delicate fucking flower and a unique fucking snowflake.

Fucking wankers at acoustic open mike nights.

And fucking wankers like me, who analyse everything to death so that they can feel better about themselves.

That’s me I mean. I’m clearly a wanker. I’ve spent most of this ‘critical space’ whinging about how big cunts people who like this song are, when I love this song, and that’s why I’m writing in the first place.

Is egotism really as much of a problem as I think it is? Self hate is surely just massive egocentricity right? ‘Self disgust is self obsession honey’ and all that jazz.

I’m twisting around in on myself and barely able to understand what I’m trying to get out of myself here. Which brings me smoothly around to subtext number 2:

I have been ill all weekend (and it’s now tuesday, which makes this a very long weekend) and feel alienated from the world and everybody I love. So I’m grumpy and I feel like a monster. I hate myself for allowing this misery to creep in, because when my housemate does the same I offer a (relatively helpful and positive?) lecture on the need to validate your own value, and not let others do it for you.

Fucking hypocrite.

But yeah, I feel outside myself and disengaged, and I miss all my friends and I’m sick of being sick and I’m sad and lonely and pathetic.

That’s subtext number 2.

But let’s put a positive spin on this by flipping back to the egocentric hatred of others.

Here’s another song that is about other people being ‘better’ than the author (including knowing wink to self that obviously this makes the opposite much truer). It’s a very popular lyrical trope, and it’s like that horrible kind of humour that only results from other people’s misfortune and a sense of superiority.

Which is sucky.

On the other hand, this dancer makes me so happy. On my positive (and exaggerated) days, I’d claim that all my life is trying to dance like this, only when there’s no music I’m doing it really, really slowly.

Watch it and smile and ignore my rollercoaster emotions.

Why? – Dumb Hummer pinched from Anticon but they’re nice so I don’t think they’ll mind.