Three Imaginary Girls

Seattle's Indie-Pop Press – Music Reviews, Film Reviews, and Big Fun

Ok, so, yes, I have this Lily Allen song on my iPod. I feel I have to defend myself here because of my usual venom towards Ms. Allen but I have my usual round of excuses: (1) this was part of a compilation I received; (2) when loaded, I didn't have the same dislike for the lady; (3) I'm bad at pruning my iPod of the dead branches. Now, to the better question: why do I dislike Lily Allen so much.

Listening to the song, there is nothing that jumps out at me as an insta-dislike for the track. It is cute with its faux-oboe and bouncy Madness influenced beat and Lily's voice isn't particularly irritating here. The subject matter doesn't interest me – which is off considering my former straight-edge lifestyle, you'd think I'd be all about this anti-pot/slacker song. However, there isn't really anything here that makes me think Lily actually believes anything she sings. So, in the end we have a pleasant little pop song. It doesn't help that she acts like a diva when most people don't know who she is, but I don't think that is the root of it.

However, when I think about it, the real reason I might dislike Lily is that the person who got excited about her first (well, in my experience) is someone is really really really dislike. So, is it right to not like a musician because the person who introduced you to them is a sworn enemy? Hmmm … that is a stickier wicket here. Ideally no, realistically, hells yeah. It is almost impossible for me to divorce the idea of Lily Allen from the idea that this fellow who pimped Lily is the same guy who, in college, loved Dar Williams and the Bloodhound Gang and every fly-by-night ska band in the universe. So, Lily gets instantly filed in with all the monstrosities of music that the person in question likes. And sure, maybe there is an anti-Erik somewhere who reads TIG and thinks the same thing about me and my musical tendencies, but I suppose this is just our postmodern existence coming to the forefront – nothing exists that doesn't get filtered through your personal experience. Thus endth the lesson.