I'd have been twelve when Carry On Wayward Son by Kansas first hit the charts, and I'm forty-two now, so I've had plenty of time to nurse a grudge against it. On one hand, the stunning banality of its lyrics, totally generic "heavy" guitar work and utterly anonymous vocals are kind of harmless, almost endearing.
If you heard this song once, you'd feel like patting it on the head, smiling and nodding as you might when your girlfriend mentions she really liked The DaVinci Code. You try to overlook it even as you realize this relationship is doomed.
But what if you stay in the relationship, metaphorically speaking? What if Carry On Wayward Son is played constantly on the radio, day after day after miserable day? What if it's on the mixtape your boss plays EVERY FUCKING DAY and you have no choice but to stand there, letting that cheeseball organ solo and those whiny vocals pound your head like a meat tenderizer?
And those lyrics--omigod, the lyrics! "I set a course for winds of fortune"? "If I claim to be a wise man/It surely means that I don't know"--Whoa. This is the type of crap jocks knock out in comp class to show how sensitive they are, and maybe score points with that black-clad "artsy" chick they secretly think is kinda cute even though they'd never admit it in front of their buds.
I just spent more time than I'd like to admit reading Wikipedia entries on this stupid song and the faceless, uninteresting band responsible for embedding it in my subconscious, and it hurts. It really, really hurts.
