Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Hollarback


Last August the Wife, the Goose, Turd and I went to Idaho for a wedding. On the way we were listing to one of the Goose’s mix CD’s that contained some of her favorite songs. One of which was Gwen Stefani’s “Hollarback Girl”. We had a discussion about what it was about and both came to the same conclusion: we didn’t have any f-ing clue.

Today I came across this analysis of said song and thought I should enlighten my readers. And because I don’t have anything else to post.
Without further ado I give you:


This shiat Is Bananas
A probing analysis of Gwen Stefanis Hollaback Girl

by GREG STACY

Gwen Stefanis Hollaback Girl is one of the most baffling pieces of music of the modern age. Its got something to do with cheerleadersthat much is clear, judging from the chanting and the marching band thats honking and tooting in the background. Beyond that, good luck deciphering the songs ambiguities. We were so vexed by the mystery that is Hollaback Girl that we have devoted countless hours to its study. Our conclusions are below. The first thing you should know, though, is that Gwen is not singing I aint no Harlem fat girlat least, we dont think she is.

Uh huh, this my shiat

Gwen is introducing us to her shiat.

All the girls stomp your feet like this

This talk of shiat and stomping has nothing to do with actually stepping on feces. But what does it mean? From a reading of the later text, we can conclude that the song takes place in the world of high school athletics, and that Gwen is apparently leading the girls in a calisthenics exercise. The shiat, we surmise, is what she calls the exercises shes teaching the other girls.

A few times Ive been around that track
So its not just gonna happen like that

Here, Gwen exhorts the girls to try harder as they jog around the track, reminding them that physical fitness is not just gonna happen, but must be worked at.

Cause I aint no hollaback girl
I aint no hollaback girl

These lines are the most confusing, but their meaning will become clearer later.

Oooh, this my shiat, this my shiat

Gwen repeats this four more times. She wants to make sure that we are well acquainted with her shiat.

I heard that you were talking shiat
And you didnt think that I would hear it

Gwen has been the victim of some slanderous high school gossip, and she doesnt appreciate it. Gwen is 35 years old sliding into MILF status at this point, but well grant her some poetic license

People hear you talking like that, getting everybody fired up So Im ready to attack, gonna lead the pack

Gwen is going to round up a posse of her girlfriends and retaliate against the person whos been talking smack about her.

Gonna get a touchdown, gonna take you out

Gwen is going to beat up the person who wronged her, after she completes the cheerleading routine that will inspire the football team to score a touchdown. Gwen has interesting priorities.

Thats right, put your pom-poms down, getting everybody fired up

It seems the entire cheerleading squad is going to beat up the person who spoke ill of Gwen; they have put down their pom-poms, and they are now fired up to exact swift and terrible vengeance on Gwens behalf.

A few times Ive been around that track
So its not just gonna happen like that
Cause I aint no hollaback girl
I aint no hollaback girl

Gwen is apparently the captain of the cheerleader squad; she is the girl who hollas the chants, not one of the girls who simply hollas them back. Given that the squad is preparing to beat somebody up on Gwens behalf, shes picked a strange time to remind them that she is their leader and they are her sheep-like followers. Gwen obviously rules her squad with an iron fist.

Oooh, this my shiat, this my shiat [repeated four times]

Again with the shiat.

So thats right dude, meet me at the bleachers
No principals, no student-teachers
Both of us want to be the winner, but there can only be one
So Im gonna fight, gonna give it my all

We learn that it was a dude who gossiped about Gwen. She challenges him to a fight at the bleachers. If he imagines it will be a fair, one-on-one fight, he is sadly mistaken. Gwen and her aforementioned pack will pounce on him like rabid wolves.

Gonna make you fall, gonna sock it to you
Thats right, Im the last one standing, another one bites the dust

Gwens pack of furious cheerleaders leaves the boy a quivering, bloody heap behind the bleachers for the groundskeeper to discover the next day.

A few times Ive been around that track
So its not just gonna happen like that
Cause I aint no hollaback girl
I aint no hollaback girl

Having completed their ghastly work, Gwens squad members return to the field and resume their cheerleading activities, as Gwen reminds them once more that she is the boss and they are all her biatches.

Oooh, this my shiat, this my shiat [repeated four times]

By calling her exercise routines sh*t, Gwen is showing us that for all her bravado, the character in this song secretly suffers from profound self-esteem issues. She is a complex antiheroine for an age of changing gender attitudes and expectations.

Let me hear you say, this shiat is bananas B-A-N-A-N-A-S

Here, Gwen steps away from this bloody spectacle for a moment to comment on the madness and ugliness of what weve just witnessed, and, by extension, the petty rivalries of high school in general. This shiat is bananas, Gwen tells us, and we can only agree. And lest we miss the point, she spells it out. And repeats it another three times.

A few times Ive been around that track
So its not just gonna happen like that
Cause I aint no hollaback girl
I aint no hollaback girl

Back on the field, Gwen is still bullying the squad to carry out her routines. But now we see her in a new light, as the sad, lost creature she truly is.

Oooh, this my shiat, this my shiat [repeated four times]

As the song fades out, Gwen is left only with her shiat, the mindless exercises that bring her no comfort from the raging emptiness within. As much as she hollas, no one hears her cries for help.

9 Comments:

At 9:51 AM, October 07, 2005, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Load, you are funnier than Pliska.

 
At 8:57 AM, October 08, 2005, Anonymous Anonymous said...

KABOOOM!

 
At 3:47 PM, October 10, 2005, Blogger Load said...

Shark, now look what you did to Turd. Now I will have to try to build up his self esteem again. Last time I had to see him cry for 2 straight hours and then tell him that I thought he was funny over and over again.
Once he stopped sobbing I had to pester him to tell me a joke to prove it. I then was subjected to 3 hours of quotes from quality programming such as Seinfeld, Simpson’s, the Austin Powers collection, MST3K, the View, The Blue Collar Comedy Tour, Futurama, Family Matters, Anchorman, Dodge Ball, Muriel’s Wedding, Bevis and Butthead and How Stella Got Her Grove Back.

After a while I discovered that if I sobbed in a certain way, it would sound like laughing.

 
At 3:21 PM, October 12, 2005, Blogger Turd Ferguson said...

Yeah, Load's cut and pasting someone else's writing is utterly hilarious. Way to point that out when someone tells you you're funny because of something you didn't write Load. Therefore, at this time, my dome is still intact.

 
At 11:17 PM, October 12, 2005, Blogger Load said...

See shArk?
Anyways, I wasn't the one who said your head exploded. I believe the entire thing was meant to get a rise out of you Turd.

 
At 10:30 AM, October 13, 2005, Blogger Turd Ferguson said...

and it failed miserably

 
At 11:24 PM, October 17, 2005, Blogger RB said...

I love this posting.

I always thought Gwen was addressing cheerleaders rather than some dude, however, and therefore insinuating that cheerleaders are lame.

 
At 12:27 AM, October 18, 2005, Anonymous Anonymous said...

lol, i'm just a guest, but i thought you're anal-y-sis (misspelling intentional) was funnier than h377. i've been trying to understand what it means, which is how i found ur lyrics. thanks for breaking it down. t

 
At 2:31 PM, October 18, 2005, Blogger Load said...

For the record, the analysis is not written by me, Load. I thought it was funny so I posted it.

 

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