This song needs no introduction as the Prince classic “Raspberry Beret” is known to most young or old. I would link you to the video to this song on YouTube, but a copyright claim by “Prince/NPG” (New Power Generation? Is that the alternative fuel mutual fund I’ve been reading about?) has prevented that. Anyway, let’s take a look and explore the intricacies of this timeless classic devoted to reddish French headwear.

I was working part time in a five-and-dime
My boss was Mr. McGee.
He told me several times that he didn’t like my kind
cause I was a bit too leisurely.

Our protagonist, let’s call him “Prince” because that’s his name, sets up the song by talking about his work at a discount retailer where he was employed by someone likely of Irish decent named Mr. McGee. When not drunk off of whiskey and chasing leprechauns, Mr. McGee made it clear to Prince that he did not “like his kind”, a statement at first seemingly tinged with racism, however we then find out that it was because he perceived Prince to be lackadaisical.

Seems that I was busy doing something close 2 nothing
But different than the day before
Thats when I saw her, ooh, I saw her
She walked in through the out door, out door

Perhaps Mr. McGee, though Irish and curmudgeonly, was not incorrect in his assessment that Prince was not serious about his job as Prince himself admits that he was not being particularly productive in this interlude. His attention is quickly diverted by a female who is probably illiterate given that she walked into a door that is more than likely to have been marked “Do not enter” because it was actually the “Out” door.

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I’m not much a Jimmy Buffet fan, but there are a couple reasons why I respect him. Number one, he has actually written a song about cheeseburgers and how much he loves them, lamenting a diet that forbids their consumption . Having written about fast food myself, I can understand the power it commands over people. Number two, he has ventured into the land of Celebrity-owned restaurants, which we know thanks to Kenny Rogers’ Roasters, is not for the faint of heart. Although the tropical-themed “Margaritaville” is a suitable name for a dining establishment in his honor, I would like to see him take it a step further and start “Jimmy Buffet’s Bucket Buffet” which would be an all-you-can eat restaurant where you don’t put your food on a tray, you put it in a bucket.

Compared to Dave Matthews, Jimmy Buffet’s lyrics are deep and sophisticated, so I thought I would breakdown the cryptic, insightful “Margaritaville” in case you are wondering what he really is trying to pour out of that margarita pitcher in his soul.

Nibblin’ on sponge cake,
watchin’ the sun bake;
All of those tourists covered with oil.
Strummin’ my six string on my front porch swing.
Smell those shrimp
They’re beginnin’ to boil.

The artist lives in a warm tourist destination eating sponge cake while observing sunbathers disregard the the repeated warnings of dermatologists and lather themselves in tanning oil. He apparently cares not for their welfare because rather than warn them about the dangers of skin cancer, he continues to play his six string guitar on his front porch swing. Though indifferent to the tourists’ future health problems, the artist is able to effectively multi-task because he is apparently preparing a meal at the same time which involves boiled crustaceans.

Wasted away again in Margaritaville,
Searchin’ for my lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim that there’s a woman to blame,
But I know it’s nobody’s fault.

Though we have thus far not been informed of any alcohol consumption, the artist has apparently fallen victim to the intoxicating mixture of tequila, triple sec, and sweet and sour mix known as a Margarita. Margaritaville is a fictional city the artist is transported to upon consuming several margaritas, and it seems that this city exists solely in his mind. A common side effect of alcohol consumption, memory loss, has set in as a shaker of salt he likely needs to season his boiling shrimp is nowhere to be found. His peers seem inclined to blame a female, for the fickle natured woman frequently drives men to quell their pain with drinking, however the artist cautions against jumping to premature conclusions, instead assessing the situation as one where no one is at fault.

Don’t know the reason,
Stayed here all season
With nothing to show but this brand new tattoo.
But it’s a real beauty,
A Mexican cutie, how it got here
I haven’t a clue.

Likely still in a state of euphoric confusion thanks to the overpowering effects of alcohol on his nervous system, the artist contemplates why he has stayed in the same location for at least one season of the year. The alcohol’s effects on his memory seems to have continued as he now finds himself with a tattoo which he has no recollection of getting. At this point, the artist reveals that although he does not recall actually getting the tattoo, it is of rather high quality and is likely a portrait of an attractive Mexican female. It is important to realize that alcohol has the ability to impair one’s judgment, particularly regarding members of the opposite sex, so although he describes his tattoo as a “beauty”, it may be just “ok”.

Wasted away again in Margaritaville,
Searchin’ for my lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim that there’s a woman to blame,
Now I think, – hell it could be my fault.

Again the artists repeats the fact that he is quite intoxicated on Margaritas, and has unfortunately yet to find his salt shaker. Peers, “haters” in today’s common speak, still maintain that a women has driven him to such excessive drinking, but perhaps in alcohol induced psychosis, the artists ponders whether or not he is now to blame for the situation, a departure from earlier assessments that held no one at fault.

 I blew out my flip flop,
Stepped on a pop top,
Cut my heel, had to cruise on back home.
But there’s booze in the blender,
And soon it will render
That frozen concoction that helps me hang on.

At some point, the artist left his front porch, possibly to warn the tourists about the dangers of UV rays, however while in transit, his footgear was rendered useless and he stepped on an aluminum can. With a sliced heel, he had no choice but to head back home to dress his wound. Perhaps hastening his return was the thought that more Margaritas were available in the blender which has hopefully been left in the freezer rather than out on a counter where it would melt in such warm conditions. He plans on drinking more of them because it helps him deal with difficult situations, one of the tell-take signs of addiction.

Wasted away again in Margaritaville
Searchin’ for my lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim that there’s a woman to blame,
But I know, it’s my own damn fault.
Yes, and some people claim that there’s a woman to blame
And I know it’s my own damn fault.

As the song commences, we see the artist still reiterating the fact that he is intoxicated and inhabiting the fictional town of Margaritaville. No progress was ever made on his shaker of salt, and it’s whereabouts will forever remain a mystery. He once again indicates that his peers feel that a woman is at the root of his problems, but he does seem to achieve some clarity on the cause of his intoxication, which he now squarely attributes to himself.

I know it’s a little cliche, but I’m doing this one anyway.

Yo, VIP, let’s kick it

Although “VIP” is generally an acronym for “Very Important Person”, in this instance, it refers to the “Vanilla Ice Posse” whom our singer Vanilla Ice is summoning so that the song can begin.

Ice, Ice, baby, Ice Ice baby
All right stop collaborate and listen
Ice is back with my brand new invention
Something grabs a hold of me tightly
Flow like a harpoon daily and nightly
Will it ever stop yo I don’t know
Turn off the lights and I’ll glow
To the extreme I rock a mic like a vandal
Light up a stage and wax a chump like a candle

The song opens with the repeating of the song title, no doubt to establish strong brand recognition for both the track and the artist whose name is closely related to the title of the song (perhaps an entry in Etymology Rocks could explain this in more detail). Next, instructions are given for listeners to stop what they are doing, collaborate with one another, and pay attention to the song. No information is given on what listeners should collaborate about, so it seems as though the word “gather” would have been more appropriate here.

Vanilla Ice goes on to state that he is not new to the scene, however the song is brand new, even referring to it as an “invention”, although he seems not to be remembered as the Ben Franklin of song writing. He states that he is possessed by “something”, and this undefinable entity results in his smooth musical flow, much like a harpoon gliding through water, and this flow is unaffected by the time of day it happens to be. He then asks rhetorically if this flowing will ever stop, but quickly answers his own question by stating that he doesn’t know. Clearly, if he had been able to see ahead, the answer would have been “Yes”. Vanilla then claims to glow in the dark, and it is safe to assume that this is due to his skin tone, however, from the artist’s perspective, it is an illustration of the electric energy he exhibits. Next, he touches briefly on his extreme ability to sing into a microphone, and his easy dispensing of “chumps” before moving on.

Dance go rush to the speaker that booms
I’m killing your brain like a poisonous mushroom
Deadly when I play a dope melody
Anything less than the best is a felony
Love it or leave it you better gain weight
You better hit bull’s eye the kid don’t play
If there was a problem yo I’ll solve it
Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it

He states that his music is the kind which people will risk permanent ear damage for because it is so good, individuals want to be as close to the speaker playing it as possible. Then, he compares the strength of his abilities on stage to those of a poisonous mushroom, which leads to his assertion that his skills are almost deadly when he plies his craft. In this verse we are also made aware that Vanilla Ice is committed to excellence by indicating that anything but the best is a serious crime. It is unclear if he has actually attended Six Sigma quality control training or not. The line about gaining weight follows the trend of nonsense filler phrases in this song, and reference to the bull’s eye seems to again reflect the commitment to excellence, and that he indeed is serious and not playing around. The statement that he can solve problems seems limited to those that may occur on-stage as he has done nothing to ease the strife in Darfur, or resolve the ongoing conflict in the Middle East. The verse ends with the instruction to listen to the song’s hook as played by his DJ.

Now that the party is jumping
With the bass kicked in and the vegas are pumpin’
Quick to the point to the point no faking
I’m cooking MC’s like a pound of bacon
Burning them if you ain’t quick and nimble
I go crazy when I hear a cymbal
And a hi-hat with a souped up tempo
I’m on a roll and it’s time to go solo

At this juncture, Vanilla is satisfied that the mood is festive enough, with the bass at appropriate levels, and the “vegas pumping” (no f@#%ing clue). Ironically, he states that he reaches the main point of his discussion quickly without faking because the actual point of this discourse never reveals itself. He metaphorically refers to his superiority over other performers as those of a chef with the insulting reference that he could cook them as though they were pork products. He is careful to note, however, that cooking requires close attention lest your meal be burnt and inedible before letting us know that the sound of a cymbol heightens his performance abilities, as do great tempos. Saying that he is now going solo is puzzling as he has been the only singer up to this point.

Rollin’ in my 5.0
With my rag-top down so my hair can blow
The girlies on standby waving just to say hi
Did you stop no I just drove by

Now Vanilla is describing a situation in which he drives his convertible Ford Mustang 5.0, enjoying the freedom he feels from his hair blowing in the wind. He plays it cool (as “Ice”) in the face of blatant attention from females.

Kept on pursuing to the next stop
I busted a left and I’m heading to the next block
The block was dead
Yo so I continued to A1A Beachfront Avenue

Unphased by the females vying for his affection, Vanilla keeps driving, taking a left turn at some point because it seemed like a good idea, however, it proved to be an unwise decision so he headed to A1A Beachfront Avenue, a popular Florida State road frequented by cruisers in Miami Beach.

Girls were hot wearing less than bikinis
Rockman lovers driving Lamborghinis
Jealous ’cause I’m out getting mine
Shay with a guage and Vanilla with a nine

Famous for it’s beautiful constituents, Vanilla refers to the lack of clothing on the representative Miami females while others vie for their attention with expensive automobiles. Apparently, those driving Lamborghinis are no match for the prowess of Vanilla and his American muscle car. Because of the often volatile scene in Miami thanks to the prevalence of the “Latin temper”, an individual named “Shay” is armed with a shotgun, and Vanilla is armed with a nine millimeter handgun.

Reading for the chumps on the wall
The chumps acting ill because they’re so full of eight balls
Gunshots rang out like a bell
I grabbed my nine all I heard were shells

Keeping alert, Vanilla keeps his wits about him by closely monitoring the body language of those lining the street. These “chumps” are particularly dangerous thanks to their use of cocaine, and it proves a wise move to look after them as quickly a shootout occurred, causing Vanilla to grab his firearm as the sounds of ammunition shells falling added to the pandemonium ensuing.

Falling on the concrete real fast
Jumped in my car slammed on the gas
Bumper to bumper the avenue’s packed
I’m trying to get away before the jackers jack

Poorly describing the scene, Vanilla indicates that he took cover and returned to his vehicle, though there was never mention of him exiting the vehicle in the first place. His escape is complicated by the dense traffic, and he is anxious to flee before the criminal element can find him and possibly deprive him of his car, nine millimeter handgun, or find easy insults to wield upon learning that he is accompanied by a man named “Shay”.

Police on the scene you know what I mean
They passed me up confronted all the dope fiends
If there was a problem yo I’ll solve it
Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it

Thankfully, Police arrive on the scene and pass up Vanilla to focus on those with illegal contraband. Again, Vanilla talks about his problem solving abilities, which may refer to his mathematical skills because he still gives no indication of how he has or would solve a problematic situation. Then he once again refers to the hook of the song as revolved by his DJ on turntables.

REPEAT CHORUS

Take heed ’cause I’m a lyrical poet
Miami’s on the scene just in case you didn’t know it
My town that created all the bass sound
Enough to shake and kick holes in the ground

In another round of inaccuracies, Vanilla fancies himself quite talented poetically before asserting that Miami should be taken seriously because it created the bass sound strong enough to result in fissures. No references are cited to substantiate this claim, and the notion of bass sounds causing craters in the urban landscape of Miami, if it occurred at all, was widely ignored by the mainstream media.

Cause my style’s like a chemical spill
Feasible rhymes that you can vision and feel
Conducted and formed
This is a hell of a concept
We make it hype and you want to step with this

Vanilla has yet to run out of ways to describe his singing style, but yet to find a good one. He seems in awe of his ability to form sentences that rhyme, which means that he would likely find the subject matter in any kindergarten class overwhelming.

Shay plays on the fade slice like a ninja
Cut like a razor blade so fast other DJs say damn
If my rhyme was a drug I’d sell it by the gram
Keep my composure when it’s time to get loose
Magnetized by the mic while I kick my juice
If there was a problem yo I’ll solve it
Check out the hook while Shay revolves it

Ice ice baby vanilla
Ice ice baby (oh-oh) vanilla
Ice ice baby vanilla
Ice ice baby vanilla ice
Yo man let’s get out of here
Word to your mother
Ice ice baby too cold
Ice ice baby too cold too cold (x2)
Ice ice baby

Ok, seriously, I am so tired of actually reading the lyrics to this song. I know it was never intended to be taken seriously, but when you read what is being said, you find it insane that someone went to the trouble to write this down on paper. Perhaps the only thing more ridiculous is that I spent time writing about them, and they make me angry the way civil war re-enactments do. in summary, before Vanilla Ice was trashing sets on the Surreal Life, he was busy coming up with the type of songs that Menudo passed on. Word to your mother.

Regulators! Mount Up!

A call for all regulators to prepare for the evening is sounded. It seems likely that there are only two regulators to speak of, one Warren G. and one Nate Dogg, and these regulators do not include Fed Chairmen Ben Bernanke, the Federal Communications Commission, or the Shanghai Cooperation Organization.

(Warren G.)
It was a clear black night, a clear white moon
Warren G. is on the streets trying to consume
Some skirts for the eve so I can get some funk
Just rollin’ in my ride, chillin all alone

The night was notable for it’s meteorological clarity, and Warren G., a known regulator was out and about hoping to possibly meet members of the opposite sex while enjoying the quality time of driving alone in his vehicle.

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