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*punches air*
"Hot Shot city on a Saturday night..."
Knocking Hasselhoff's musical ability is like beating a boy with Down's for pulling a face at you.
"Hot Shot city on a Saturday night..."
Knocking Hasselhoff's musical ability is like beating a boy with Down's for pulling a face at you.
Heh, excellent - I was looking for all the lyrics actually.
An old one, but worth reading again I reckon (from the Amazon review pages):
Hot Shot City - A Critique, February 5, 2003
Reviewer: Gaviano from gavinbroom.com
In so many opinions on this site, the song "Hot Shot City" has been raised to such a level that some critics have likened it to the feeling a badger would have if it was tied to a brick and gently pressed against an angle grinder. It has also been heralded as a contributing factor to the light God created on the first day. I decided to go through the song in stages to perhaps explain its aura. No easy task.
When the sun goes down on a Saturday night
You will find her on the street
In her red Ferrari with her top pulled down
You can feel, you can feel the heat
Right, so we've established that on Saturday evenings, this lady likes to sit in her Ferrari. Which is red. Like most Ferraris. Either it's a convertible, or her shirt is riding up her belly a little, which is quite possible due to the low seating position in Ferraris. Especially red ones. Anyway, her top is pulled down. In the opening three lines, Hasslebank has already conjured up such a vivid image of a woman fidgeting in her seat that he is confident that he can bring the listener into the scene and convince us that we can "feel the heat". With the sun being down, presumably this warmth is coming from the car's heater.
Got her motor runnin' and the wind in her hair
She ain't got nothing to lose
And her skin tight jeans
He'll be the wreck of a man
She will give, she will give you the blues
She will give, she will give you the blues
So the Ferrari is either idling and it's windy, or we're travelling with the vixen. It's here that Hufftysusannahhoffs decides to relay two important pieces of information about our driver. One, she has nothing to lose - she's driving this road like she just doesn't care what anybody's going to think about her for doing so. Two, her jeans are tight, which may be contributing to the heat she's feeling. A third character is also introduced here. In addition to the woman and ourselves, the listener, there is also the mention of a mysterious man who is already unstable and on the way to becoming a wreck. The reason for this is due to our protagonist, gifted with the ability to give one the "blues".
Cool it down now cool it down
11 o'clock we're ready to rock
11 o'clock yeah we ready to rock
Heat is reducing. And it's eleven o'clock. We're not privy to the relationship between these two snippets of information or if there is a connection. However, from the heat felt earlier and her tight jeans, it's probably best that the temperature is now on a downward trend.
Hot shot city on a Saturday night
We're gonna party down until the morning light
Late licenses are abundant in Hot Shot City, guaranteeing a party that will go well into Sunday morning.
Hot shot city on a Saturday night
We're hotter than rock'n' roll
She's burning baby in my soul
Check it out, check it out
The brief respite in the temperature is over as quickly as it began and now, not only is it hot, but it's sufficiently hot that we're given a comparison so we can fully appreciate it. Rock N Roll is chilly in comparison to us. Our driver for the evening is cited as the main cause of this upturn and we're advised to get this heartburn checked out, perhaps by a doctor.
Let your hair down baby
We've been rocking all night
Now the sun's coming over the hill
We like to sleep all day, like to party all night
The hair that was once blowing in the wind has apparently been tied up as we're advising her to let it down. It's Sunday morning, approaching sunrise and we need our kip so we can party again. The triumphant rhyme that takes us from "night" all the way back to "night" is sublime.
Our love is like red hot steel
Our love is like red hot steel
Cool it down now cool it down
11 o'clock we're ready to rock
11 o'clock yeah we ready to rock
Sleep over, our love is now molten and a prime component in the manufacturing sector. The urge here is to cool it down so it can set and become solid again. But there's barely time as it's 11 o'clock again and we're off out on a school night. The lament of the wreck of a man from the first verse is doomed to never be resolved. Or mentioned again.
Hot shot city on a Saturday night
We're gonna party down until the morning light
Hot shot city on a Saturday night
We're hotter than rock'n' roll
She's burning baby in my soul
Check it out, check it out
Isn't it Sunday night now?
Summary: In Billy Connolly's World Tour of Australia, Billy met an artist who could paint like a child. Initially, this wasn't too impressive but then he explained how difficult it is for an adult to paint like a child and make it look honest, and he's right. At 29, you'll never be able to paint something that looks like a 2 year old painted it because you'd be trying too hard. The artist, it was agreed, was a genius.
In Hot Shot City, Heffelumpenwhistle has been able to write a song as though English isn't his first language. There's nothing much of a story or a point, there are glaring inaccuracies and contradictions, it reads as though it's incomplete and the rhyming structure is simplified to a stage where you can guess the next line before you get to it. In short, Snuffleupegus is also a genius. Believe the hype that surrounds this song. It is particularly good. Perhaps the most particularly good song ever penned.
Hot Shot City - A Critique, February 5, 2003
Reviewer: Gaviano from gavinbroom.com
In so many opinions on this site, the song "Hot Shot City" has been raised to such a level that some critics have likened it to the feeling a badger would have if it was tied to a brick and gently pressed against an angle grinder. It has also been heralded as a contributing factor to the light God created on the first day. I decided to go through the song in stages to perhaps explain its aura. No easy task.
When the sun goes down on a Saturday night
You will find her on the street
In her red Ferrari with her top pulled down
You can feel, you can feel the heat
Right, so we've established that on Saturday evenings, this lady likes to sit in her Ferrari. Which is red. Like most Ferraris. Either it's a convertible, or her shirt is riding up her belly a little, which is quite possible due to the low seating position in Ferraris. Especially red ones. Anyway, her top is pulled down. In the opening three lines, Hasslebank has already conjured up such a vivid image of a woman fidgeting in her seat that he is confident that he can bring the listener into the scene and convince us that we can "feel the heat". With the sun being down, presumably this warmth is coming from the car's heater.
Got her motor runnin' and the wind in her hair
She ain't got nothing to lose
And her skin tight jeans
He'll be the wreck of a man
She will give, she will give you the blues
She will give, she will give you the blues
So the Ferrari is either idling and it's windy, or we're travelling with the vixen. It's here that Hufftysusannahhoffs decides to relay two important pieces of information about our driver. One, she has nothing to lose - she's driving this road like she just doesn't care what anybody's going to think about her for doing so. Two, her jeans are tight, which may be contributing to the heat she's feeling. A third character is also introduced here. In addition to the woman and ourselves, the listener, there is also the mention of a mysterious man who is already unstable and on the way to becoming a wreck. The reason for this is due to our protagonist, gifted with the ability to give one the "blues".
Cool it down now cool it down
11 o'clock we're ready to rock
11 o'clock yeah we ready to rock
Heat is reducing. And it's eleven o'clock. We're not privy to the relationship between these two snippets of information or if there is a connection. However, from the heat felt earlier and her tight jeans, it's probably best that the temperature is now on a downward trend.
Hot shot city on a Saturday night
We're gonna party down until the morning light
Late licenses are abundant in Hot Shot City, guaranteeing a party that will go well into Sunday morning.
Hot shot city on a Saturday night
We're hotter than rock'n' roll
She's burning baby in my soul
Check it out, check it out
The brief respite in the temperature is over as quickly as it began and now, not only is it hot, but it's sufficiently hot that we're given a comparison so we can fully appreciate it. Rock N Roll is chilly in comparison to us. Our driver for the evening is cited as the main cause of this upturn and we're advised to get this heartburn checked out, perhaps by a doctor.
Let your hair down baby
We've been rocking all night
Now the sun's coming over the hill
We like to sleep all day, like to party all night
The hair that was once blowing in the wind has apparently been tied up as we're advising her to let it down. It's Sunday morning, approaching sunrise and we need our kip so we can party again. The triumphant rhyme that takes us from "night" all the way back to "night" is sublime.
Our love is like red hot steel
Our love is like red hot steel
Cool it down now cool it down
11 o'clock we're ready to rock
11 o'clock yeah we ready to rock
Sleep over, our love is now molten and a prime component in the manufacturing sector. The urge here is to cool it down so it can set and become solid again. But there's barely time as it's 11 o'clock again and we're off out on a school night. The lament of the wreck of a man from the first verse is doomed to never be resolved. Or mentioned again.
Hot shot city on a Saturday night
We're gonna party down until the morning light
Hot shot city on a Saturday night
We're hotter than rock'n' roll
She's burning baby in my soul
Check it out, check it out
Isn't it Sunday night now?
Summary: In Billy Connolly's World Tour of Australia, Billy met an artist who could paint like a child. Initially, this wasn't too impressive but then he explained how difficult it is for an adult to paint like a child and make it look honest, and he's right. At 29, you'll never be able to paint something that looks like a 2 year old painted it because you'd be trying too hard. The artist, it was agreed, was a genius.
In Hot Shot City, Heffelumpenwhistle has been able to write a song as though English isn't his first language. There's nothing much of a story or a point, there are glaring inaccuracies and contradictions, it reads as though it's incomplete and the rhyming structure is simplified to a stage where you can guess the next line before you get to it. In short, Snuffleupegus is also a genius. Believe the hype that surrounds this song. It is particularly good. Perhaps the most particularly good song ever penned.
The bit where he starts freestylin' about how much of a hot time they had is amazing - only Hasselhoff can make you puke and be horny at the same time.
"Our love is like red hot steel
Coooooool it down"
Coooooool it down"
*punches air*
"Hot Shot city on a Saturday night..."
Knocking Hasselhoff's musical ability is like beating a boy with Down's for pulling a face at you.
"Hot Shot city on a Saturday night..."
Knocking Hasselhoff's musical ability is like beating a boy with Down's for pulling a face at you.