I was just directed to Rule Forty Two, a very entertaining blog, by a friend and great writer Gavin Edwards. Something to check out.
Reading his observations on that dead-or-dying artform, the music video, I’m reminded of the most mind-blowingly, brain-explodingly bad music video I’ve ever seen: Sting’s "I’m So Happy I Can’t Stop Crying."
I’ve always like the song. It’s a nice little song about dealing with divorce, set to a country sound, and I think it achieves some measure of poignancy.
But I recently had the misfortune, somehow, of seeing this monstrosity of a video. How can they go from a song with a small scale, with lyrics about babysitting, joint custody and melted ice cream, to an outlandishly mega-mohawked, leather-clad Sting emerging from blinding white light on a white horse, to cavort with liquid metal terminator-style cows, flying cowboys and aliens (funny!) in a Western town?
And while it is meant to be humorous at times, no, it’s not ironic. Can Sting even BE ironic?