Stephen King has worms. Not the kind of worms you’re probably thinking about right this moment though. I’m talking about earworms. And I guarantee you’ve got them too.
Before you get the idea we started happy hour early here at Pollstar headquarters, why don’t I let Stephen explain what I’m talking about.
King writes in Entertainment Weekly:
My friend Longhair says that’s what you call songs that burrow into your head and commence chewing your brains. The dreaded earworm can turn even a great song into something you’d run from, screaming at the top of your lungs. If only you could.
So now that we’re clear on the concept, what are Stephen King’s earworms?
A couple of months ago, I woke up at three in the morning thirsty as hell (probably because I’d donated blood the day before), and shambled into the bathroom for a glass of water. I was 20 percent awake at best. And as I turned on the faucet, I realized I was singing this: “They say a man should always dress / For the job he wants / So why’m I dressed up like a pirate / In this restaurant?”
Dear God, I thought, I’ve been infected by an earworm.
I HATE that FreeCreditReport.com song! And all of its variations. There has to be a special place in hell for the people that write annoying jingles. And the people that put them on the air. Every time that commercial comes on, I either switch the channel or mute the sound. Urgh!
But, as King points out, it’s not just commercial jingles that take up residence in your grey matter.
The most recent example from my own life is Tim Armstrong’s ska-dance rave-up “Into Action.” Great song … at least until you realize that for the last hour you’ve been droning “We take the 43 bus, we got no plans / The girl in the miniskirt, her name’s Suzanne” under your breath.
I could see how that would make you want to throw yourself under the 43 bus.
Since King is a curious kind of guy, he decided to ask folks at RetroCrush.com and readers of his Web site about their earworms. And he was “deluged” with responses.
Yet a clear winner emerged: “Macarena” by Los Del Rio. One of my respondents, Natalie Shannon, summed it up best: “I hate this song even when I’m drunk.”
I once heard “Macarena” played by a polka band at an Oktoberfest celebration. I still have nightmares.
Other Latin-tinged songs that scored high on the this-makes-me crazy meter: “Coconut,” by Harry Nilsson; “Who Let The Dogs Out,” by Baha Men; “Mambo No. 5,” by Lou Bega. Concerning this last one, I want to share that my wife once informed me that she would disembowel me with her sharpest Ginsu knife if I played the extended version one more time. I waited until she was running errands, then played it … not once, but several times.
Because that’s the thing about earworms: They attract even as they repulse. Put another way, you know you’ll only spread that rash by scratching it, but you can’t help it. Which explains why even now I feel this insane urge to play “Mr. Roboto” by Styx … one … more … time.
Here are a few more choice offenders that made King’s list:
Elton John’s “Daniel”: “It could be classed as torture because of the nausea-inducing qualities and lingering psychological effects,” James Hanna commented on King’s Web site.
Toni Basil’s “Mickey”: “In which we find what may be the archetypal earworm chorus: ‘Oh Mickey, you’re so fine / You’re so fine you blow my mind / Hey Mickey!’”
Other culprits include Katy Perry’s “I Kissed a Girl,” Sisqó’s “Thong Song,” Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s “Relax,” Rupert Holmes’ “Escape (The Piña Colada Song),” Hanson’s “MMMBop,” and Soft Cell’s “Tainted Love.”
I hear the parents out there grumbling about the special breed of earworm that comes with having children. Don’t worry, you haven’t been left out.
Speaking of Mickey, several people mentioned the supremely annoying Disneyland earworm “It’s a Small World.”
Oh man. That’s a really vicious one. Once, on a trip to Disneyland, some friends and I were speculating on the suicide rate of Disney employees forced to work on the “Small World” ride. It’s either pretty high or the employee commissary does healthy business selling earplugs.
One reader told King that she’s had the theme from "Sesame Street" (“Sunny Day / Sweepin’ the clouds away”) stuck in her head for more than 30 years. Yikes! And she hasn’t donned a Big Bird costume and climbed a tower with a rifle yet? That’s willpower.
Of course the ultimate parent-torturing earworm comes courtesy of that insipid purple reptile Barney. King suggests trying to rid yourself of that one by making up parodies of the theme song.
In the end, everyone who responded agreed the biggest earworm producer of all time was – you guessed it – ABBA.
The one most frequently mentioned was the dreadful (and dreadfully addictive) “Take a Chance on Me,” where satanic male voices in the background chant “Take a chance, take a ch-ch-chance” until you’re willing to promise anyone anything if it will only cease echoing in your head.
Yeah, but I guarantee if you start playing it anywhere in the world, 90 percent of the people around will be able to sing along. Terrifying, isn’t it?
Speaking of terror, one really important fact King forgot to mention about earworms is their amazing power to exact revenge.
When I was living in a third floor apartment in Chicago, I had a downstairs neighbor who was not only apt to stay up all night, he was prone to loudly playing John Lennon’s “Imagine” or Creed’s “With Arms Wide Open” over and over for six or seven hours.
Several weekends of this CIA-style torture pushed me to my breaking point. So one morning, after being serenaded by Lennon and company all night, I got up bright and early, surmising my downstairs neighbor was now sleeping. I put my speakers on the floor face down, put on Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer,” cranked up the volume and left for the day.
Needless to say, the message was received.
You can read Stephen King’s complete analysis of earworms in the April 24 issue of Entertainment Weekly.