Friday, October 31, 2008

Correcting Popular Song Lyrics

I just wanted to take a moment and, as a public service, correct certain mistaken impressions members of the public might have gotten as a result of listening to popular songs on the radio. This is a minor but significant service I have chosen to perform from time to time, simply because radio remains the third or maybe fourth most popular medium of communication out there. (It definitely beats out carrier pigeons, at any rate.)

Today, I'd like to correct a misapprehension caused by lyrics in Natasha Bedingfield's song, "Unwritten", in which she sings, "Feel the rain on your skin/No one else can feel it for you..."

This is technically incorrect. A person with expert skills in butchery and tanning could, in fact, flay off a piece of your skin that would be extremely thin and, after tanning, quite supple. They could then find a sufficiently powerful rainstorm that the impact of the raindrops could be felt directly through the piece of thin leather. Naturally, this would wreck the material, so it could only be done once per piece of your skin that they felt the rain on, but they could nonetheless feel it for you.

Hopefully, this information arrives in time to be helpful.


Michael Hoskin said...

Leatherface on tour?

Mark Clapham said...

Have you heard Otis Lee Crenshaw's deconstruction of Jailhouse Rock?

John Seavey said...

No, can't say that I have. Is it available on the Internet somewhere?

Jesse said...

This seems like quite a stretch for a jab at Natasha Bedingfield/Unwritten/Whoknows.

Mark Clapham said...

It might be on youtube. It's definitely on one of Otis Lee Crenshaw (AKA Rich Hall)'s videos, so it's probably out there:

"The warden threw a party at the County Jail"


'No he didn't'.

Anonymous said...

It would be debatable if, at that point, it could still be considered to be "your" skin.

Unknown said...

Also debatable would be whether our leatherworker is feeling the rain on your skin, or through your skin, or perhaps even against your skin (the way you might feel rain pound against a jacket, even though you never feel the rain itself).

It sounds like a small nit to pick, but writers need to pay attention to these sorts of sensory differences if they really want to immerse the reader in the experience... ;)

Anonymous said...

Why do so many men with an excellent combination of high abstract intelligence and high creative intelligence

always have such a dark sense of humor?