It was a dark time for 1991 when this piece came on to the scene. I HATE Tom Cochrane. Hate. I hate his scratchy Canadian rock-but-sensitive vocals. I hate his puffy face and dusty coconut stubble. His blowin' in the wind haircut and standard musician leather jacket with light denim made me punch my own butt. Useless. Boring. Superfluous.
Can we talk about the video? The bloated goat huffing into a harmonica looking all smug at the beginning? You just know it's gonna be one cliche after another. The tan color scheme. Wheat field, deserted gas station manned by the pedo. Young couple having "good times" rebelling and in love. Ripped jeans. A convertible. Vomit in my own jammies. Why are you casually waving to a Native American standing in front of white nuns? Is that middle America? What are you getting at? You just happened to have yr guitar up in those rocks and you just have to JAM, man! Gross.
It's all just so predictable and boring! it's so beige and weak. It's dad music. it's the khaki soundtrack. It's everything i hate. and it's stuck in my head. So i take my head and flush it down the toilet. I can't have this puke rattling around in my skull, it's ruining my day. But it's still not as bad as Coldplay.
Now i got my jammies all in a snit. shit.