Pop Picks - "Teenage Dirtbag"

“Teenage Dirtbag,” the early-00s smash hit by power pop band Wheatus, is possibly the most iconic high school loser redemption anthem since Aerosmith’s “Walk This Way.” And somehow, I managed to avoid hearing it until my 20th birthday.

Oh well, better late than never. Though I missed the crucial window for maximum appreciation of a song like “Teenage Dirtbag,” I could immediately see why the song has become so perennial. It’s catchy, endearing, and thematically timeless. And because of “Teenage Dirtbag”’s universality, it’s been a popular cover choice for artists across the spectrum of genres. So for this installation of Pop Picks, I’d like to focus on three versions: the original (along with its famous music video), the 2013 One Direction cover, and the 2018 cover by Phoebe Bridgers.

The Original

Like many great pop songs, “Teenage Dirtbag” keeps it simple. In my last Pop Pick, I mentioned how Oasis’s “Wonderwall” makes minor tweaks to a basic songwriting formula, giving what would be a bare-bones chord progression some artificial flashiness. “Teenage Dirtbag” pulls a similar move, but it avoids an endless lineage of coffee shop covers by adding some big fat electric guitar riffage to the mix. In fact, the acoustic/electric interplay is one of my favorite parts of the song. It’s got a little bit of that acoustic-guitar-on-the-quad energy going for it, but that chorus demands to be belted out at your local Emo Night.

And what’s a classic song without a classic music video to go along? The “Teenage Dirtbag” video hits a lot of the notes you’d expect in a music video for a song by its name, but it has a secret ingredient: Jason Biggs. You probably know Biggs from sex comedy classic American Pie, but even if you don’t, you’ll be able to recognize his talent at portraying the type of high school stereotype at which song like “Teenage Dirtbag” is aimed. My one gripe: the dirtbag label and Iron Maiden references in “Teenage Dirtbag”’s lyrics imply more of a metalhead outcast, while Biggs portrays more of a right-down-the-middle nerdy loser. But this is just me being nit-picky. The general theme of an unpopular loner getting the popular girl holds up either way.

The One Direction Cover

First of all, let me make this clear. I’m not 13 years old, and this isn’t 2011, so this isn’t going to be a whiny rant on how much I hate One Direction. At worst, I’m indifferent to the lads, and at best, well, we’ve all heard “Watermelon Sugar.” But I just don’t think this one is in their wheelhouse. One Direction’s cover sounds good, but I just can’t buy into a bunch of rich, good-looking, wildly successful pop superstars singing about being lonely on prom night. No points away from them for covering the song, I just can’t consider it as anything more than a fun one-off cover for a big live show.

The Phoebe Bridgers Cover

I’m a well-established fan of Phoebe Bridgers, from her solo work to Better Oblivion Community Center to indie-rock supergroup boygenius. But even though I’m approaching this cover with a bit of bias, I’m confident in saying this is objectively an incredible reimagining. “Teenage Dirtbag” works just as well as a wistful ballad as it does a power pop anthem, and Bridgers’ beautifully haunting voice almost tricks you into believing this could be her own song. It’s a rare example of a cover that I like just as much as the original.

“Teenage Dirtbag” is an all-timer, no matter who’s singing it. And even if you’re like me and your teenage years are behind you, give this song a shot. Because all of us have our teenage dirtbag moments, no matter how old we are.

Lyle B.

Pop Picks - "Hey Ya"

In the last Pop Pick, I covered “I Took A Pill In Ibiza,” a song on which I made a complete 180 between first hearing it and today. With “Hey Ya,” I made a full 360.

Don’t worry. I know trigonometry. Or at least well enough to write for a music blog. But Outkast has always been an interesting case to me. Since I was still years away from developing my own taste in music when the legendary rap duo was at the height of their popularity, I was introduced to Outkast via Top 40 radio. And I loved them. “Ms. Jackson,” ''Roses,” and “The Way You Move” were always more fun to hear than whatever dad rock or contemporary country my parents would usually put on. “Hey Ya,” of course, was the most fun of them all. At the tender age of seven, I missed the sobering message within Andre 3000’s gleefully delivered vocals. I just enjoyed all the clapping and the Polaroid picture shaking.

But surprisingly, my taste in music did not stop developing at seven years old. And with the advent of the iPod, my listening shifted further and further away from pop radio. I started getting into rock, hip hop, and other standard teen boy genres. Paradoxically, I even found my way back to Outkast through their incredible early albums. I never wrote “Hey Ya” off, but I certainly wasn’t putting it into rotation very often. It just wasn’t the type of thing I chose to listen to.

Here’s where the back half of that 360 comes into play. My taste in music also didn’t stop developing at the age of seventeen. As I expanded the range of music I listened to and cultivated a deeper appreciation of pop songwriting, I wound up revisiting some of the pop classics of my youth. This more recent time around, I think I got it a little better. First of all, the genre-blending in “Hey Ya” is genius. It’s not often that you see a rapper build a pop song around an acoustic guitar loop and a funk bassline. Also, not to get too into music theory (mainly because I do not know music theory), but “Hey Ya” hits an E major chord where it should hit an E minor. It might be “against the rules,” but an all-major chord progression fits the vibe of the song so much better.

Andre 3000 was right about seven-year-old Lyle: I didn’t want to hear him, I just wanted to dance. But once I started listening, I understood why this song deserves such reverence. I’ve jokingly referred to me and my fellow late 90s birthday-havers as the “‘Hey Ya’ Generation,” because so many of us have a similar experience with Outkast (also because we don’t really fit in as Millennials or Gen Z, but that’s another article). That’s a lot of importance to assign to one song. I get it. But hey, there are worse songs to base a generational identity on. Might as well make it a classic.

Lyle B.

P.S. I would also accept being the “‘Yeah!’ Generation.” Either one is fine.