Some things I will never understand. Girl Talk, or Greg Gillis, is one of them. He takes two songs that frequented the
airwaves during those awkward high school days and mashes them together to
change the context, mood and meaning of the originals. Sometimes he will insert
some old hip-hop track on top of a clichéd classic for ironic sentiment, like
Public Enemy over Elton John or N.W.A. over Guns n’ Roses. It’s fun, no doubt,
but it’s all a bit ridiculou
Yet,
the over-packed, sweaty and deliriously humid Phoenix in Toronto was either in
on the joke or oblivious to the fact that this whole shtick could be a joke. I have never seen people
dance harder, drink more or follow a DJ’s every lead like the packed contingent
of hipsters did with Girl Talk. It was cultish, and admittedly, enjoyable to be
a part of. Yet, this context of mashing two mediocre songs together to form a
new song grew tiring, because while Girl Talk seamlessly molded the early ‘90s
into one danceable, contagious coagulate of a high school musical, he never
dwelled on one specific song for more than a minute, rolling too fast between
sounds to fully expel the power and fun hidden in what he was mixing.
Regardless
of this criticism, everyone got the party they wanted, and because of that,
Girl Talk is impossible to dislike. Anyone with an ear to the past and a sense
of humor can love the results, proving that sometimes things that are wrong in
context, are right on the dance floor.
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