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Mar 15

BRITNEY SPEARS – “Oops!… I Did It Again”

Popular107 comments • 8,070 views

#858, 13th May 2000

britney oopsHow do you follow “…Baby One More Time”? Perhaps you can’t. Britney Spears’ second album splits the job, starting with two songs that plainly exist in “Baby”’s shadow. One is an overt sequel, “Stronger” – eager, catchy dance-pop that’s more upbeat than the first instalment: “My loneliness ain’t killing me no more”, Spears sings. Glad to hear it. The other is “Oops… I Did It Again”, which hit listeners initially as a straight-up clone of “…Baby One More Time”: the mid-paced, dancer-ready stomp, the melodrama, the end-of-song pile-on. And as that half-mocking title signalled, the song knew it.

The similarities weren’t enough to dismiss “Oops”, because if you copy a classic you might easily end up somewhere very good. Clone or not, “Oops” became one of Britney Spears’ signature tracks – a highlight of her tours and now her Vegas residency. But the resemblance meant that what “Oops” does differently – its startling gamble with its breakdown, its development of the singer’s persona, and the uses it starts to find for her voice – was overlooked.

But if Max Martin had somehow restrained from ripping himself off for Britney’s comeback, he’d have been the only one. “Oops” sounds a bit like “….Baby One More Time”. But by Spring 2000 half the charts sounded a bit like “…Baby One More Time”. British acts showed themselves especially keen students of Martin’s Cheiron studios and the new Swedish pop. It worked, too – several upcoming number ones come decked out with Cheiron-style crashing chords and floor-friendly melodrama, crowding out more authentically Max-factor productions from the Backstreet Boys or N’Sync. “Oops” was never likely to end the sound’s hot streak.

You need to look at a different Britney song to best understand how the Max Martin approach worked and how it could fail: “Satisfaction”, her Rolling Stones cover. Just as “…Baby” or “Oops” don’t, in fact, reveal more of themselves when covered by a dude with a guitar, so “Satisfaction” exposes the methods and limits of the sound by breaking a great pop record upon its wheel. The Cheiron style is built around an excess of emphasis – massive boldface syllables, power chords, and single steam-hammer beats all hitting in unison. Tightly choreographed formation dancing – freezing into shapes or throwing down on the heavy beats – completes the effect. “Satisfaction” shows what this can’t do – the Stones’ track doesn’t have the primary-coloured chords that Max-pop needs, and is front-loaded with Keith Richards’ riff, which Britney’s cover simply can’t find room for but – fatally – can’t replace either.

But listening to a misfire like “Satisfaction” leads to a better appreciation of Martin’s tricks and tics, too. In the great Cheiron numbers, the first half of a song uses the bombastic emphasis to crank up tension, which breaks near the end – often with a key change – to give the climaxes of their tracks their delirious potency, as every hook rains down at once like a videogame combo attack. Like glam rock, it’s an immediately recognisable, and not terribly subtle style, and like glam, it enjoyed a brief moment of unmatched pop dominance.

Digging into the Max Martin and Cheiron way of pop is important, because “Oops…I Did It Again” uses and plays with it so magnificently. For me, this is a peak of Britney and Max Martin’s early careers – just as good as its template, perhaps better. As a piece of classic pop songwriting, “Oops” is inferior – “…Baby” has that dynamite sixties melodrama going on, and it feels so complete and satisfying it’s irresistible. But “Oops” takes it as a model and vaults it, going beyond its aspirations to lay foundations for the rest of Britney’s career.

For a start, she actually sounds happy on it. Her singles had been a sequence of teenage agonies, with “Born To Make You Happy” pushing her melodrama to an unnerving limit. “Oops” goes in a completely different direction – now she’s the one in control while her luckless boy makes a fool of himself. “Oops” isn’t a word you say when you sincerely regret anything, and Britney clearly doesn’t. It means she gets to sing the song in a rather different way from earlier singles – breaking out a sarcastic snap that’ll end up as one of her most recognisable styles. She still flirts with melodrama – “To lose all my senses…” – but knowingly undercuts it, makes a joke of it – “that is just so typically me.”

This shifting vocal style finds an echo in the record’s production: this is the single that begins the journey to the cut-up, fractured vocal lines of Spears’ great mid-00s records. Take the sequence at the start of verse two: “You see my problem is this” – sly and crackly, confidential. “I’m dreaming away, looking for” – the callous nasal jab that’s her main “Oops” register. “Heroes that truly exist” – a multi-tracked swoon. The form of the song – Britney’s voice flitting between styles – mirrors the content – Britney as a girl gleefully trifling with her suitors. Max’s lyrics aren’t brilliant – when are they ever? – but Britney’s singing and his production are a potent combination.

As Diamanda Galas – a woman who knows a thing or two about the uses of the unnatural sounding voice – said with approval, “She doesn’t even sound human!”. Galas delightfully characterised Britney as a producer’s “sick dream”, a “radioactive worm”, and these unlikely compliments get to the implications of “Oops”. What “Oops” is doing with its vocals is picking up on the potential of Cher’s “Believe” – moving away from the idea that a pop single should pretend to be a recording of a single, replicable performance. On the instrumental side, this illusion had fallen away a long time before. In dance music, loops and cut-ups and stretching meant that vocal naturalism was strictly optional. But in pop, there was still an implied hierarchy. The lead vocal was more important than the backing, which was more important than the video, which was more important than anything else the star did.

“Oops…I Did It Again” doesn’t dissolve that hierarchy entirely. But it presents a strong challenge to it. Not just in the vocal – whose treatments are quite mild compared to later Britney Spears tracks – but in its most audacious trick, not writing a breakdown at all and instead churning to a halt, then cutting to video dialogue with a sudden “All Aboard!” As the “Oops” chords bubble softly around them, Britney and her doe-eyed suitor discuss the gift he’s brought her. Not just any gift: The Heart Of The Ocean, the necklace from the film Titanic. The dialogue makes this absolutely obvious to anyone who’s seen the film – which is most of Britney’s audience, you figure. And Britney’s response to this impossible gift of the most symbolically romantic object in the entirety of late-90s pop culture? A slightly exasperated, “Aw, you shouldn’t have.”

(Just to make it even more absurd and amazing, in the video, all this is happening on Mars.)

Britney doesn’t perform this section live – in a gig environment, “Oops” gets forced back into song-shape, which emphasises how much the section breaks that shape on record. It’s a deeply weird moment – not even a spoken word section a la the Shangri-Las, more like a skit stranded in the middle of a track. It’s simultaneously clumsy and swaggering – Britney casually hijacking the biggest film of all time – and it explicitly declares that “Oops”’ as a song is a soundtrack to its video. Which in the era of Total Request Live and its UK equivalents, was a fair acknowledgement of how fans would encounter it.

The spoken video breakdown isn’t a trick Britney, Max Martin or any of her other collaborators would revisit – it risks the momentum too much. But in this one case, it works. The dialogue is such a perfect capsule of the song’s theme, for one thing – look how far this guy will go, and look how awkwardly misguided that is. But also the interlude does the exact job a bridge would do and does it splendidly – pausing the song so it can return stronger. If the first half of “Oops” is a patchwork of new ideas and old, its climax is the Cheiron pop machine on booming form. Once again, the idea of the lead vocal as the core of the song is dropped – the back end of “Oops” is mostly carried by backing singers, with Britney contributing licks of vocal fry at its edge. It doesn’t matter – any more than it matters that, when the massed vox come in after the break,on a modified chorus, it’s the same payoff trick as on “Baby One More Time”. It’s still the most joyful trick around, and Britney and Max work it even better. The skipped beat on the title – “Oops I — DID it again to your heart!” is my single peak moment of this whole wave of pop. Even when I’ve listened to the rest of the song so much it can only sound harsh and draggy, that tiny, explosive pause pulls me back to loving it.

We’ll be seeing a lot more of Max Martin and of Britney Spears. None of their later work together – before or after her breakdown and comeback – has the bright, self-aware confidence of “Oops”, a collaboration between a producer and singer both flush with early success and keen to consolidate their position at the very heart of pop culture. It would soon be time for Max to find other singers, and for Britney to decisively break from the “…Baby One More Time” model. But “Oops” was never meant to be that break – its new ideas and laugh-out-loud cheek are a freebie. Its only job was to be a triumph, and it is.

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Comments

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  1. 61
    Phil on 8 Mar 2015 #

    Agree with Tom #52 on the hierarchy of importance – the idea (which at one time we’d have called ‘rockist’) that The Song (without the production, arrangement etc) is the true, authentic thing. So Hey Ya is *really* about a neurotic boyfriend destroying his relationship through self-doubt, and Easy is *really* about an entitled git doing the Freebird thing and walking out. Actually what’s great about both those records is how the music – and the rhythm section in particular – transcends the song and carries the singer with it. Paring them back to the words and the melody leaches all the joy out of them – and that’s a lot of joy.

  2. 62
    Rory on 8 Mar 2015 #

    Tommy @59, you’ve been deceived by some overenthusiastic posts: T*x*c is very much bunnied.

  3. 63
    Izzy on 8 Mar 2015 #

    60: busker-style playing is terrible. It’s also the first thing you learn on guitar – open strings, undamped chords, every string played on every stroke – so it’s particularly dismal when it’s the only style some bands ever use.

    Noel Gallagher’s playing is the worst in my view – partly for the ubiquity, partly for the disproportionate volume, but mostly for the papery plectrums you can hear on every stroke.

    The instrument itself is as versatile and dramatic as any other guitar, as anyone who’s ever seen e.g. flamenco will attest. It’s also fine for loud stuff to a surprising extent. I’m sure I recall Keith Richards saying that Jumpin’ Jack Flash, and many others, were done on an acoustic and then overdriven via studio wizardry.

  4. 64
    Tommy Mack on 8 Mar 2015 #

    #63: Jumping Jack Flash is apparently acoustic guitars recorded and played back through a tiny speaker to get that eerie tremulous sound (though I think the main riff might be an electric). Britney should have covered that one instead though lyrically it’s more latter day Britney. For those that don’t know, her version of Satisfaction changes the lyrics of the second verse to ‘when I’m watching my TV and a girl comes on and tells me how short my skirts should be: she can’t tell me who to be, I’ve got my own identity’ which seems a bit rich: if anyone was telling girls how short their skirts should be…

    Busker playing is awful. The only thing worse is bands doing it on electric guitars. Oasis again guilty here.

  5. 65
    Tommy Mack on 8 Mar 2015 #

    Lonepilgrim @ 60, there’s a wonderful clip of Johnny Marr chatting to Tony Wilson and demonstrating on his red Les Paul how to write a Smiths song. Sadly I can’t find the clip on line but it basically went like: “My influences are English and American folk guitar (strums a few chords) but in The Smiths there’s a lot of space to fill so you take that and make it a bit more aggressive (chiming arpeggios of the same chords)” For years I loved that little riff he played more than any of their actual records (this was back when I hated Morrissey)

  6. 66
    Phil on 8 Mar 2015 #

    I always thought jit was a big influence on Marr – you can hear the Bhundu Boys in This Charming Man. Or is it just me?

    PS ‘bunny’?

  7. 67
    Mark G on 8 Mar 2015 #

    That reminds me of when Johnny Marr was on Radio 1 while some old guitars were being tried out. They had a sitar guitar, so he tried it out on his bands latest single, This Charming Man riff. Because he wanted to know what *that* sounded like, unselfconsciously. Decided he was cool, didn’t even know Morrissey from Adam in those days.

  8. 68
    Tom on 8 Mar 2015 #

    Phil: by convention we don’t directly talk about upcoming number ones in the comment threads. At some point it was decided that the “spoiler bunny” would mete out some kind of dire vengeance to those who broke this rule. Hence (ultimately) “a bunny” = “an upcoming number one”, “bunnied = Direct discussion is embargoed. This sometimes extends to the artists too but there’s not actually a reason it should – the Manics were “bunnied Welsh band” for ages but we happily chatted about them anyway.

    In most cases artists seem to either have a number of late career hits or have a lot of early career hits then stop. Britney in the UK is actually quite unusual for having a lot of early career hits but then carrying on being a significant pop force – so in theory we could talk about post 94 Britney but in practise we seem not to do.

  9. 69

    while the bhundu boys were actually recording in zimbabwe as early as 1983 — the year “this charming man” was recorded — it’s highly unlikely marr had heard them: they only arrived in the UK (more or less on the indie circuit rather than the ‘world music’ circuit) in 1986; tho their music was being played on UK radio (peel & kershaw) in 1985

    (this isn’t to say that african guitar styles more broadly — zairean soukous in particular — couldn’t have been something marr had heard and liked; there were london-based bands playing around with it from the early 80s, and obviously soukous was massive in the right clubs in paris from some time earlier, not to mention the right clubs in lagos)

  10. 70
    Izzy on 8 Mar 2015 #

    African guitar influence on The Smiths is definitely a theme that recurs in discourse from time to time. It’s either Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now or William, It Was Really Nothing which usually gets cited as Marr borrowing from high life.

    I say that like I know what high life is, or who plays it! Would appreciate a few pointers please.

  11. 71

    highlife is west african music, centred on ghana: figures like e.t.mensah, the african brothers, s.e.rogers, eric agyeman, a.b.crentsil, jewel ackah, prince nico, pat thomas

    it’s a laid-back music, doesn’t have the filigree prettiness or clubby discoid vim (to my ears) of central african guitar pop (which was always my favourite): highlife often favours a slightly sourer tuning also

  12. 72
    enitharmon on 8 Mar 2015 #

    Have I mentioned before that incident where Ms Spears was being interviewed by Jenni Murray on Woman’s Hour? A few gentle full tosses elicited a good deal of giggling “like, yeah, I mean cool” type responses and then Jenni asked her something about her personal life. Whereupon her (presumably) burly minders intervened, appeared to rip out every cable in the studio and brought the interview to a premature close. Not impressed, and this has coloured my impression of our Britney and her chums ever since. This would never have happened with Aretha Franklin I’m sure!

  13. 73
    Phil on 8 Mar 2015 #

    #69 – fascinating. I must have heard the similarity a lot later – circa The Boy With… perhaps – and read it back into the earlier stuff. But there’s definitely something there as early as 1983, even if it’s not jit – Marr’s guitar style didn’t just come from the Byrds (or if it did it came a long way).

    Tom – thanks for the explanation. Next question: why am I being told I’m posting comments too quickly? And why’s it let the comment go through the second time?

  14. 74

    the “comments too quickly” thing is a glitch (one of several) somewhere in the machinery — i’ve been confronted with it when my previous post was several months previously, which was a cheek in my opinion

    anyway it isn’t anything to do with your actual speed of posting as far as anyone knows

  15. 75
    Kinitawowi on 8 Mar 2015 #

    #68: On bunnies, did the spoiler formulation come about before or after Jive? (Or was the threat that we will sic Jive Bunny on you if you breach the embargo? “Those who discuss forthcoming number ones will be subjected to an hour of Swing The Mood on repeat”?)

  16. 76

    first bunnymention (i think), courtesy the swede formerly known as waldo

  17. 77
    Rory on 8 Mar 2015 #

    #75: Long before. I started following around 1975 Popular Time and commenting from 1983, and he was already watching over us like General Woundwort…

  18. 78
    swanstep on 9 Mar 2015 #

    @59-61, 63-65, etc.. I’m uncomfortable with equating good acoustic accompaniment with the virtuosic or near-virtuosic. There’s plenty of acoustic stuff from Cat Stevens to Jonathan Richman to Kristin Hersch that I suppose is pretty buskery but that works fantastically well. Or consider this from Thom Yorke; you can’t *get* any simpler and more open-stringed than that, and it’s a complete knock-out.

    I do think that in many cases the proper home for stripped back acoustic arrangement is live: there the tactile quality of the performance whether it’s virtuosic or rough-as-guts can come through in a way that it can’t elsewise. E.g. live Joanna Newsom is a world-beater whereas on record the very same tracks often fall flat.

    I agree that there are lots of shockingly unimaginative and uncommitted acoustic performances out there where the stripped-back-ness is a (lousy) kind of gimmick and has no meaning internal to the song and its playing – nothing particularly sensitive or raw was intended so it’s simply not clear what anyone thought they were doing. More generally, I agree that it’s rare for anything especially good to come out of stripping-back a very highly arranged, orchestrated and produced original, whereas songs that were conceived from the ground up in a minimal setting and where the intimacy of that setting is internal to the meaning of the song are often spectacular.

    On the thought that ‘The Song (without the production, arrangement etc) is the true, authentic thing’: there’s a lot right with that idea. We’d ordinarily say that the same song exists in its live instances as in its recorded instance, in any cover versions live and recorded (indefinitely many if it becomes a standard). That is, the song is robust across variations in performance and production and arrangement. And this notion of song as chords and melodies and words is in fact crucial when one’s writing and recording precisely because one wants the freedom to explore different arrangements, tempi, you name it. Committing too early to a specific instrumentation, tempo etc. is often fatal both because it can lead you to fool yourself about the strength of the underlying song (entirely parallel to film-makers these days spending months or years on more and more design and world-building rather than address objections 1a, 1b, 1c, etc. to their script) and because it can lock you in prematurely to some specific, e.g., performance, choice to the exclusion of other choices. I don’t think it’s at all ‘rockist’ to be concerned with the underlying song, rock’s generally been *very* performance-centric whereas Brill building and Motown and earlier song-book pop traditions really were song-centric.

    Anyhow, it’s fine if people dig particular performances or arrangements, and whole aspects of modern music from the riff to the groove to drone, in effect amount to shrinking song-craft – so the underlying song is close-to-trivial apart from the words (but sometimes the latter is trivialized as well) – to thereby give more of the spotlight to various kinds of performance (i.e., counting all of production as a kind of performance). At any rate, I think most people have quite catholic tastes and respond strongly to both performances and song-craft. We value our early Dylan and Elliott Smith but we wouldn’t want everything to sound like a minimally performed embodiment of just-the-song-facts-m’am, and happily we never have to choose.

  19. 79
    Phil on 9 Mar 2015 #

    My earlier comment was fairly extreme, so thanks for the pushback! I actually sing traditional folk songs, and in that context the song really is the words and the melody – it’s the same song whether you back it with an acoustic guitar, a kaossilator or (my preferred option) nothing at all. But then, *is* it the same song? There’s endless variation in words and melodies, both between different variants of the same song and between different performances. As for keys, chords and time signatures, as a folk singer the world’s your oyster. (The bare minimum for a Brill Building song includes a lot more than words and tune.) Traditional folk songs have no definitive version – the song only exists in multiple forms.

    But yes, for most songs – which have an author and a definitive version – there is a package of words, melody, key, time and chords, which is portable between different arrangements & instruments. What I was getting at was the idea – which I do think is rockist, or at least rock-and-roll-ist in the broader sense* – that stripping back an elaborate pop production to that basic package, and then playing it on a guitar, is an exciting thing to do and/or brings out something authentic about the song. Apart from anything else, it’s a bit imperialistic to declare that the songbook basics of words, music and chords *are* the core elements of a particular recorded song – as distinct from, say, words and music (folk) or time signature, BPM and bassline (dance). As we know, if you strip down Hey Ya! in this way (a track whose *real* core elements are a minor scale keyboard arpeggio and an interpolated bar of 2/4) the song you get is completely different – and much less enjoyable.

    *The sense in which Mott the Hoople could barely get through a song without mentioning ‘rock and roll’ (generally in laudatory terms).

  20. 80
    anto on 9 Mar 2015 #

    One of the best ever reviews on ‘Popular’ – the song itself I consider to be good but not great and Britney is one of the few vocalists who could sing that title phrase with such loopy conviction.
    I don’t feel the need to repent for preferring Billy Corgan to Max Martin as much other people seem to, I still do now even if I haven’t listened to any Pumpkins for a while. At the time when ‘Ooops!…’ came out I had reached a landmark age and, quite simply music no longer seemed like the centre of everything for me as maybe it had done 3 or 4 years earlier.

  21. 81
    swanstep on 10 Mar 2015 #

    Musicless OIDIA vid is somewhat amusing.

  22. 82
    Ed on 10 Mar 2015 #

    @66 etc: I always thought the African influence on Marr came through King Sunny Ade, whose Island debut Juju Music was released in 1982, just as the Smiths were getting going.

    Listen to this, for example, and you could easily believe it was Marr playing:

    https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=AsC0QY8ECqg

    With the Bhundu Boys, I always guessed it was a combination of parallel evolution and reverse engineering. The band came up with a Marr-like guitar sound quite separately – although possibly with some of the same influences? – and then marketers realised they could be sold to that segment of the UK indie audience who listened to The Smiths for the guitar playing.

  23. 83
    Ed on 10 Mar 2015 #

    I was right! Maybe…

    http://www.songfacts.com/detail.php?id=7580

    I remember the review of the Smiths’ Ask in the NME described the guitars as “gorgeous in that kinda folk, kinda highlife way…”

    But the writer may not have heard much highlife.

  24. 84
    DJBobHoskins on 10 Mar 2015 #

    Massive sigh. This is nothing much more than a re-hash of BOMT and gets a ’10′, yet ‘Belfast Child’ gets 1? Sorry. I love this site, but that’s off the scale of wrong.

  25. 85
    Tommy Mack on 10 Mar 2015 #

    Enimarthon @ 72, she was pretty crap in interviews iirc, as a performer, she’s an Elvis not a Dylan (although I don’t see why R4 listeners have a right to hear about her private life – reminds me of the story about Col Parker banning Elvis from giving interviews after he said ‘ you don’t buy a cow when you can get free milk’ when asked if he planned to marry.)

    The thing that really pissed me off about Britney came later, after 9-11. Probably more relevant for a later thread.

    FWIW, I never read this song as being about a cruel femme fatale, rather Britney being kind of bemused and slightly frightened by the power she suddenly had over men. The spoken word bit suggests I misread it though.

  26. 86
    Tom on 10 Mar 2015 #

    It’s not something I’d really thought about before, but the rise of my interest in pop in the 00s coincided with the decline of any interest I had in reading interviews. Not just because PR managed interviews are pretty deadly, but because I suddenly had access to so many other fans and listeners, and I found what they had to say far more entertaining than most of the artists. To this day I don’t actually follow any musicians on Twitter (except Wichita Lineman).

    The upside of this is that when artists like Britney say idiotic things occasionally – and they do, I’m well aware – I don’t really notice much.

  27. 87
    Tommy Mack on 11 Mar 2015 #

    That’s probably the best way! There are a couple of forthcoming bunnied performers whose social media presence has seriously tested my affection for their music. In one case pretty much to breaking point.

  28. 88
    Tim Byron on 16 Mar 2015 #

    Conversation about the role of ‘the song’ above (e.g., #78-79) is very interesting. For me, ‘the song’ isn’t intrinsically better or more important than ‘the performance’ or ‘the production’ – a great recording can be based around a fairly average song. But I do feel that the song matters in some ways that the performance/production cannot – namely, in the way that a song becomes part of people’s lives. We can sing a song to ourselves, but unless we’re musicians or producers, we can’t really perform or produce a song to ourselves. It’s the song that matters when it comes to picking something to do karaoke with, it’s the song that matters when it comes to having music stuck in our heads (or at least, it is for me – people differ in terms of how vivid their earworms are, but they seem to be largely based around vocal hooks).

    And I think that, generally, ‘the song’ isn’t something you need to be a specialist in to understand. You might need to have a knowledge of 1990s electronic music (or the Beatles in the mid-1960s) to really understand where the Chemical Brothers’ ‘Setting Sun’ is coming from, production/performance-wise, but you don’t really need to know much about anything to decide whether you like the melody and chords and lyrics.

    Which isn’t to say that ‘the song’ is all important. I mean, there’s stuff like, say, Dylan’s and Hendrix’s versions of ‘All Along The Watchtower’, where it’s clearly the performance and production of Hendrix’s version that makes the song work, which made it a hit at the time. It’s because of the way that ‘All Along The Watchtower’ sounds that it gets used to denote the Vietnam era, etc. But it is also true that Hendrix’s version works better than Dylan’s not only because of the sound, but because his version improves the stuff of the song – Hendrix’s version obviously adds a fair few guitar melodies, and he changes the basic rhythm of the vocal melody in a lot of places (etc).

    So anyway, I suspect that ‘the song’ tends to play an outsize role in how most people think about and use recordings from the past – hip new production styles often become passe, and a great performance loses its ability to surprise after you hear it a few times. But the song lingers on.

  29. 89
    Mark M on 16 Mar 2015 #

    Re88: ‘it’s the song that matters when it comes to having music stuck in our heads (or at least, it is for me – people differ in terms of how vivid their earworms are, but they seem to be largely based around vocal hooks).’

    Just off the top of my head, a few none-more-obvious moments to contradict that notion: the drum intro to Be My Baby, the sax riff on Baker St, the sax break on Careless Whisper, the keyboard riff on Depeche Mode’s Just Can’t Get Enough, the bassline from Walk On The Wild Side, the baseline from Good Times, the guitar solo to Hotel California… the way that when people sing Sweet Caroline they sing the horn (?) bit from the chorus (likewise God Save The Queen (national anthem one))…

  30. 90
    Adam on 23 Mar 2015 #

    Great essay. I agree that the skipped beat makes the song… any other examples of this in pop? Seems like a common trick but I can’t think think of any… there MUST be a Jackson song that does this.

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