Nearly any song gets a sing-along if I know them well enough. It isn’t a question of which song, but it is a question of how horrible I am to the song. I care not a jot for stupid original lyrics. I like putting in my own abusive, abrasive, and wholly inappropriate lyrics – kind of a sing-song’y cuss-fest. The FCC censor would just walk up to me with a length of duct tape and slap it right over my mouth. I wouldn’t stop though, I’d be humming and giggling right along, and I’d switch from horrible words to really outrageous gestures.
Songs need livening up. Love songs deserve a measure of cannibalism. Metal songs need to be about Santa. Hopeless maudlin crooning deserves some spectacular and bombastic four-letter adjustments. It’s like a filthy Monty Python animation department in my head, always running, coming up with stuff that would make the original lyricist blush so hard their head would explode from the blood pressure alone.
So it’s not about sing-alongs. It’s about sing-abusing. Nobody actually pays attention to the lyrics, they are almost always whiney protestations about how unfair life is or how someone lost something precious. Yadda yadda yadda. Lets have a 40 foot tall cannibalistic Santa-based tooth fairy singing about oil changes and hunting down GE executives with sling-blades. Now that would be something.
