Today we take a look at that band from the "Always Save" tier of the late '90s boy band boom, LFO. As is custom on the Inexplicably Close Look, we're not interested in the group's megahit "Summer Girls," or even that entry on Jennifer Love-Hewitt's resume that just has to be screaming do-over, "Girl on TV" (though I've seen a few episodes of "Ghost Whisperer," and I must say perhaps Ms. Love-Hewitt would be better served returning to the realm of staring meekly into the camera as some has-been croons in her face...).
No, today we cast our gaze on that third and perhaps least entry in LFO's 15-minute oeuvre, "Every Other Time." While "Summer Girls" performs the perhaps forgivable feat of sending the mix between pop culture, hip hop and white guys in untucked dress shirts back fifty years ("Billy Shakespeare wrote a whole bunch of sonnets"? Really? There's no method in that madness...), "Every Other Time" performs the much more impressive feat of sending women's rights back to Susan B. Anthony days.
Let's take a look at the relationship dynamic that is explored in the song. Its title comes from the singer's admission that he's in love with his significant other on odd-numbered occasions. So, at the very least, we're dealing with an individual who's remaining with his partner either out of convenience, or a sincere lack of knowledge about what the phrase "so in love with her" actually means.
And these other occasions are not marked by indifference. Oh no, that would almost be forgivable. The give-and-take between these two is downright reprehensible, and the lack of lyrical talent only makes their dramatization in verse more painful for the listener.
"Keep it up home girl, don't you quit, you know the way you scream is the ultimate"
Yep, that sounds like a physically healthy relationship.
"Sometimes she's wrong, sometimes I'm right"
Dr. Freud would agree.
"But then I think about the time that we broke up before the prom and you told everyone that I was gay, OK"
Who knew that a girl who exclusively dresses herself in ridiculously marked-up clothing from a certain retailer would react in such an immature way?
You know, when you come to think of it, the entirety of this group's library reflects some kind of incompatibility to connect with women on a fundamental level. "Summer Girls" is about a girl that stays about just long enough to wallpaper the closet before moving on, and not having the bad sense to bring Chinese take-out to chow on after sex. And "Girl on TV" is perhaps the finest sonnet to objectification I've ever heard in a pop song (OK, I take that back, my mind intentionally skipped over that classic "Back that Ass Up" from Juvenile).
What you're left with, after all of this, are a trio of glossy, cartoonish prep-boys that fear commitment on a very fundamental level. I mean, if you can only love some one "every other time," and you think that's a sufficient way to connect with another individual (I believe they use the wonderfully trite image of two dolphins swimming around in each other's hearts), well — perhaps you're well suited to that bubble-gum sheen of the late '90s. Or you'll sound like one of those curmudgeons from the early '20s, too.
Or maybe I'm looking too closely.
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