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There are certain undeniable and yet relatively irrelevant truths in music.

Despite his best efforts, U-God is in fact important to the internal dialogue of the Wu-Tang context at large. Ben Folds can imply more fundamental screeching with two fingers and a well-tuned Steinway than most busted Les Paul amps will ever be able to achieve.

Kanye West is really a slightly less uncool Teddy Riley, and will make this relationship more obvious when he launches his R&B trio, the Chi-Heights, by late 2007 in which he will sing backup tenor while pretending to play the ‘keytar’ without a hint of irony.

Dave Grohl was the most important member of Nirvana; without his snares swinging from hell to space and back again before plowing into the skins and his emotional balance, Kurt would have passed away about four months before anyone outside of Aberdeen realized he wasn’t just another thin, paranoid Melvins addict. Mary J Blige made better songs while on coke. Stuff like that. A new truth has just surfaced that is just as immediately irrelevant, but, before I die, I expect this song will mean more than many books, like all those other songs that mean more than an even larger number of books.

Pure, purest

That truth is this: Crazy by Gnarls Barkley, the hip-pop clusterbang of Cee-Lo from Goodie Mob and Dangermouse of The White Album fame, is the best pure song since Hey Ya which was the best pure song since whatever came before that.

Crazy is a pure song like Yesterday or When Doves Cry or Electric Relaxation or Blame it on the Sun. Four minutes of straightforward, uncomplicated, to the point, completely perfect noises rammed together in the sort of way that is outside of time, separate from space. The act of listening to pure songs is difficult to document, because it pushes you through the ether into something better, something cleaner. By the time it’s over, you feel like there’s less dirt under your nails, more air in your lungs, and you can’t remember exactly what just happened.

It’s all a bit too fast or too slow or too lovely to really objectively observe. Pure songs open your ears and close your eyes wider and tighter than they’ve ever been before. The hook is almost always fathoms deep, the bridge has puckered lips and legs that just plain asserts itself without being a jerk, and the words probably mean enough of nothing to describe everything that’s ever mattered to you. This is a pure song. This is Crazy by Gnarls Barkley. This really is quite irrelevant.

But it is true, and it’s certainly better than whatever you’re listening to at the moment. Embrace the pointlessness of perfect pop, and ride this pure song right out of your head.

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