Broken

There are two songs running around in my head these days. This is one of them, "Broken" by lovelytheband.

Normally, the lyrics and the video would annoy the hell out of me--and they do somewhat. I'm old, folks, so the video views like yet another entitled guy fantasy about a goofy-but-you-know-really-just-so-cool guy who gets the girl of his dreams, despite his complete social ineptitude. And the lyrics represent another entitlement fantasy--applicable to guy and girl alike--about how, like, you know, we're so different from everyone else, we're so misunderstood. And yet we're the stuff of every '80s rom com or "teen picture" by John Hughes. Just insert bad-but-antiseptic Brat Pack member of your choice.

Nonetheless, the video balances out the lyrics--it's definitely not maudlin or twee--and the lyrics balance out the video--they're delivered in a sexy, upbeat, slightly wry fashion. And then the music--pure early '80s new wave pop--brings everything together in one fantastic, holy union. Bravo, my lovelies.

I still see a "damaged" Rob Lowe and a "hurt" Ally Sheedy--or some such--in angst over their misunderstanding parents, or their parents divorce, or the fact that their parents didn't send them to the Ivy League school of their choice, blah blah blah. But I'm getting past it. Like I said, I'm old, and this song really doesn't relate to me. I don't consider myself broken. Bent maybe. Bowed perhaps. Scratched. Twisted and turned. Burnt around the edges. Scorched all over. Mangled. Beat up. Battered. Exploded. Firebombed. Molotov Cocktailed. Bloodied. Tossed off a moving train. Rolled out of speeding car. Dropped from a vintage biplane with only a tattered parachute to save me from falling into a river of Australian saltwater crocodiles.  But not broken. Definitely not broken.

And yet, gosh darn it, it's such a danged catchy, and I do love me some LA pop. So why not? I'll acknowledge being broken in order to enjoy this tune.