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I think the reason people like listicles so much is that they give them something to argue about. I know this may be a shocking opinion, given the Internet's natural tendency toward friendship and harmony, but hear me out:
A couple day's ago I posted an article called "10 Great ABBA Songs that Are Not in Mamma Mia!" on Pop Offensive's Facebook page. It has since been shared dozens of times--most flatteringly by Carl Magnus Palm, the author of the book, ABBA: Bright Lights, Dark Shadows. And with that sharing came a torrent of comments. Most of these were either positive or offered considered disagreement, but there were also a few from people who were angry because they didn't understand how opinions work.
If you are reading this blog, there is a statistical likelihood that you have no opinion about ABBA at all. Still, you might get some delicious schadenfreud from my novice attempt at link bait.
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3 comments:
Ha! As a somewhat dedicated pop enthusiast, I have to admit that "musical lithium [...] to happily vibrate along to" isn't an altogether inaccurate way to determine just what I'm often looking for when I turn on the stereo. I also like glam. So you won't be surprised that I dig ABBA more than halfway--anyone who has spent any amount of time fondly drinking away an evening with Australians can likely relate--but I am a little surprised that the man who turned me on to the Delrons seems to like them rather less than that.
I'm more surprised by the way you've casually dismissed Cyndi Lauper, though. Her award-winning Kinky Boots soundtrack is hardly a vanity parade of legacy hits; it's an honest-to-god work of theater, divorced, at least as much as possible, from the rest of her discography. It has little in common with Mamma Mia for sure, and rather less marquee signature than Prince's soundtrack for Batman or Madonna's for Dick Tracy, though it resembles those albums a bit more. Maybe I'm being a nerd drawing these distinctions, but the projects seem night an day to me.
Anyway, great list!
Thanks, Mr. Cavin. If I failed in any way to communicate my love for ABBA, it was not intentional (hell, I've played them on POP OFFENSIVE as much or more than any other artist.)It's just that, while I was writing this article, my 18 year old punk rock self was giving me a disgusted side-eye and shaking his head in bitter disappointment the whole time--which, as you might imagine, was a little distracting.
Ha! The struggle is real!
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