Karle baby dance wance by Daler Mehndi: The Punjabi-banter ridden conflict of all time. Girls and boys, who will make the rotis and who will give the jhappis? After all, you guys just want a chance wance to have some chai shai and, please, us ladies don’t want to see no dilli shilli, okay? The song manages to keep it current by adding some English lyrics (I need you baby, you drive me crazy, How I miss you, Let me kiss you, Let me kiss you tonight). What’s not to love?
Mysterious Girl by Peter Andre’s: Gulp. It’s true. Yes I know it’s 2012. And yes, I’ve seen the video featuring a scarily hairless chest peeping out from a blinding white shirt flapping in a sea breeze. But you know the bad rap? (Your presence surrounds me like a flowers a bloom/ and I love the smell of your Elizabeth Taylor perfume). Yeah, gets me all the time.
Super bass by Nicki Minaj: I honestly can’t figure out what’s more amusing, the ridiculous lyrics, the sudden British accent that pops up in the middle of the song (oi mean moy moy moy, yu loike pelican floy) or the melodiously heartfelt way she belts out the boom badoom boom bit.
Teenage Dream by Katy Perry: We can be all intellectual, listen to jazz, discuss the influence of Shakespeare on literature and contemporary art over tea, but let’s admit it; Sometimes all a girl wants is to set a boy’s heart racing because of her skin tight jeans. Am I right? Am I right?
That don’t impress me much by Shania Twain: Yes, it’s that ridiculous video where she walks around a desert in a leopard-print outfit, rejecting rocket scientists and Brad Pitt for not having ‘the touch’. She rejected Brad Pitt. If he doesn’t have the touch, who the hell does, Shania? Yes, I’m not too impressed by her grammar either but for some reason the song never goes off my play list.
Rhinestone cowboy by Glenn Campbell: Hey, hey. I grew in a Goan Roman Catholic household, which means there was a frightening amount of country-western music in the early years. I pick this one to be my guilty pleasure song. Why? No pick-up trucks, no mama waitin’ home by a stove and no Lucille pickin’ the right time to leave you. This guy dreams of Broadway. Aspiration. You gotta love it.