by Miles Raymer
Today Brooklyn Vegan points to an article on Slate about how every band/solo artist/"dude in a dorm room with a webcam" is covering Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy." I'm conflicted about the song. On one hand I don't like Gnarls Barkley--I don't like their wacky image, I'm bored to tears by simply hearing the words "Danger Mouse," and I'm mad that Cee-Lo had to remove all but a lingering whiff of his personality in order to get the fame he's deserved for years. On the other hand, there is something undeniable about "Crazy," something inevitable even, like it was just hanging around an ideal Platonic space waiting for someone to write it. So it'll probably end up on my year-end top singles list, even though I've only listened to it on purpose, outside of research purposes, one single time.
Which is probably why I shouldn't have gone through and listened to every single version of "Crazy" that Slate piece links to, and why I never should have started searching through back-to-back amateur renditions of it. I think I'll have to take a fork to some sensitive parts of my brain matter before I can get the song out of my head, not to mention the sight of Of Montreal's singer's overexposed pubes area or the psychic aftertaste of this dude's entire deal.