This was published 2 years ago
Push pineapples and shake those trees, this is the greatest novelty song
In this column, we will deliver hot (and cold) takes on pop culture minutiae, giving our verdict on whether a subject is overrated or underrated.
By Elizabeth Flux
This room is full of art – of controversial masterpieces. In front of me is what might otherwise be a standard portrait of a man and woman, but for the fact that both their faces are shrouded in white linen.
In the distance lies a disquieting circus-themed triptych by Francis Bacon, the figures so close and yet so far from looking properly human. And, on a nearby wall, one of Australia’s most discussed – and at one time most expensive – paintings, Blue Poles, is wedged between what looks like a vacuum cleaner and a set of drawers. The effect, like a budget dental office just after closing time, is unintentionally surreal.
Forget Blue Poles: the Agadoo film clip should be projected, on loop, 24/7.
This room in the National Gallery of Australia is filled with the beautiful, the challenging, and the lauded. But something is clearly missing – and that thing is the 1984 pop hit Agadoo by former UK Eurovision band Black Lace.
Instead of this respectful silence, the somewhat nonsensical lyrics about pushing pineapples, playing ukulele and grinding coffee should be echoing off every hard surface. Forget Blue Poles; clear off an entire wall so that the Agadoo film clip can be projected, on loop, 24/7.
If you’ve ever heard a countdown of the top 50 worst songs of all time, then you’ve heard Agadoo. If you’ve ever listened to a roundup of the most irritating hits ever, then you’ve heard Agadoo. It’s a reputation that is unfair, undeserved, and that is long overdue to be challenged.
Agadoo, the song, is pretty simple. There’s a man and he’s dancing (or maybe leading an aerobics class) while reminiscing about a woman he met in Waikiki. She plays ukulele and sells pineapple, so naturally he starts a conversation and they agree to meet up later at the beach, presumably to play cards and talk about modern art. I don’t know how the lyric “shake the tree” fits into this, but I’m sure it’s all just good clean fun and that this definitely isn’t a song about boning at the beach.
The tune is catchy; it will stay in your head for days. As far as lyrics go, it’s not any stranger than anything by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. So why, then, is it considered so bad?
Part of the problem is that it has been slapped with the label “novelty song”, a term that has been used to bring down many unfairly maligned works of genius. Barbie Girl. Schnappi Das Kleine Krokodil. The Fox (What Does The Fox Say). Der Klaubautermann. The Macarena. Shuddap You Face. The Ketchup Song. Gangnam Style. The list goes on and on.
There are a lot of definitions for “novelty song”, some of which contradict each other. The most straightforward, however, is simply a song that is just a little bit weird and upbeat (and, okay, has a bit of a sinister edge). Oh, and it becomes a “guilty pleasure” if you enjoy it.
Once a song has been branded a novelty, it is automatically considered second rate – something that can never be taken seriously. So, being weird and happy (and okay, sure, from time to time including eardrum-piercing animal noises or singing about a hobgoblin that lives in the sea) automatically makes something bad? Sorry for feeling an ounce of joy, I guess.
But, if you’re going to be a novelty song, you may as well be the king, and that’s what Agadoo is.
The song itself is actually a cover, cobbled together from different bands, from an original French version called Agadou. What elevates it above all the others, however, is the film clip.
Initially, it all seems pretty straightforward – two men in Hawaiian shirts and leather pants awkwardly dance as though their mum is teaching them the moves just off-screen. Then you notice that the band is made up of large, anthropomorphic fruit, including a particularly buff lemon on guitar. To one side, an apple-headed barman is serving fruit drinks.
Putting aside the fruit version of cannibalism, however, the biggest triumph of the Agadoo film clip is a subplot involving a woman dressed as a pineapple going on a journey of self-discovery in this fruit-filled hellscape. Subtitles broadcast her thoughts as she first tries to join in the fun, but quickly becomes indignant as she takes in the lyrics. “Is this dance fruitist?” she thinks. Finally, one of the men shoves her – push pineapple, indeed – and she retreats to the bar, only for the band to follow and ask what a nice pineapple like her is doing in a place like this.
The clip has 15 million views on YouTube and I fully accept that 14.9 million were me. I also think this clip is art – a surrealist masterpiece that deserves attention beyond the label of “novelty”.
Successful art should capture your focus, and it should make you ask questions. I look at René Magritte’s The Lovers and I go: this is interesting, why are their faces shrouded, it’s all a bit spooky. I look at the film clip for Agadoo and I go: apple-headed bartender who are you, who are your parents, does it bother you to serve the nectar of your brethren?
Agadoo, the word, might just be a nonsensical sound to fill in the gaps between weird lyrics. But Agadoo, the concept, is a masterpiece. What a novel concept.
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