When I was growing up there were two music networks, MTV and VH1, that played two distinctly different types of music. MTV played rock and rap videos. VH1 played music that sucked dick. You could immediately listen to a band and designate which channel their music videos would be played on. If a band was edgy and featured a parental advisory sticker on their CD they were an MTV band. If a band sounded like Hootie and the Blowfish or something from the Lilith Fair lineup they belonged on VH1. Then of course music all blended together into being one big melting pot of suck. Bands that were "cool" disappeared. A bunch bands decided they were gonna make the same brand of shitty pussified soft VH1 rock. Today, almost half the popular bands out are "VH1 bands" led of course by This Week's Band That Sucks Balls: TRAIN.
Train is a piece of shit. First of all, look at these losers. They could be the poster child for a new picture website called "bands that dress like dickheads" They're like "hey we're a bunch of conservative, mature middle aged guys, we should probably have our wardrobe supplied by Lands End's winter catalog." Nice fitted gray v-neck sweater. Pea coat. A nice casual train conductor hat. We could fit right in with a crowd of yuppie douchebags on their laptops at Starbucks. Wait...but...we're rock stars. We have to look...edgy. I've got it. The lead singer will wear leather pants with his v-neck. One guy will have stylish but slightly torn jeans. And douche #3 will be the one member with sunglasses. SWEET. Now we look badass! No you don't. You guys look like a couple of newly divorced middle aged losers hitting up the club on a Friday night. You should change the name of your band from Train to "Home Depot" because you are a massive collection of tools.
Aside from the fact that they look like clowns, Train's music itself of course blows. If Jason Mraz and the Goo Goo Dolls combined the worst elements of their respective styles and formed some sort of VH1 super-group, they would be Train. All their songs are some convoluted metaphor for an awkward quiet girl wandering around a coffee shop waiting for Mr. Right to sweep them off their feet. Somebody that does funny, quirky things like drinking coffee at midnight. You only know this because the word "she" arises repeatedly throughout their songs. Otherwise you would never figure out that "Meet Virginia," or "Calling all you Angels,"or "Drops of Jupiter" are songs about chicks. Their singer sings in a a breezy upbeat tone, sounding kinda like every coffee shop's solo acoustic performer if he actually got a band behind him. And he fucking SMILES when he sings. You CANNOT SMILE WHEN YOU'RE SINGING A ROCK SONG. It is completely against the rules. If you smile while singing you are not a rock frontman. (The exception being a quick, evil smirk and wink to the crowd while saying something cool like "squeeze my lemon till the juice run down my leg.").
Train was largely popular during the late 90's and early part of the millenium. Then as you would hope would happen to an utterly talentless group of asshats, their career fizzled out and they disappeared. At least for 3-4 years we were free of Train's VH1 balladeering. This year however, they realized that a brilliant way to get back on the charts would be to write a song perfectly suited to be an annoying advertising jingle. So they wrote "Hey Soul Sister" also known as THE WORST FUCKING SONG EVER. These jackoffs actually decided to write a whole song based around a ukelele riff. Obviously the lyrics include such brilliant couplets as "Like a virgin you're Madonna, and I'm really gonna Wanna" and rhymes "radio" with "stereo." There an annoying repetitive "Heyyyyyy" singalong part to it. Everything about this song makes me want to hurl bricks at baby strollers.
Of course an annoyingly simple song like this is bound to get in your head so EVERY commercial uses it. Seriously I'm not exaggerating when I say I hear this song at least 20 times a day. Jesus. Enough already. Just because your company picked a catchy song that sticks in my head does not mean I'm gonna remember to buy your fucking phone, or TV or whatever the hell you're selling me. In fact I'm prone to not even pay attention to what shitty product you're selling me now that I've heard that goddamn Soul Sister song and changed the channel within three seconds to avoid having my head explode from rage. Go away Train. Even the awkward quiet girl at the coffee shop is sick of your breezy melodies. Please stop making music and go model outfits for Old Navy's adult male line. Douchebags.