I think this might be my favorite song of the album for how well-constructed it is, and how the music tells the story of a boy coming in like a lion and winding up like a little Lamb.
The lyrics are obvious--boy think his dick is God's Gift to Women, boy finally meets a woman, boy quickly finds out that it takes a lot more than his macho fantasies (and a textbook on erogenous zones) to be a real lover.
But the musical construction! After the aggression and menacing swagger of "Back in NYC", we get a jaunty show-tune melody full unearned confidence, mixed with some of "NYC"'s hard edge as he boasts about how his studies will make him an unstoppable Don Juan that no woman could resist.
The tension starts building, the choir eggs him on with rhythmic ooos, the beat insistently starts throbbing to a crescendo as things get heavy and they unzip (whoopee!)--and just when you're expecting a massive climax, it turns into a limp, twiddly...er, solo that he tries to salvage with braggadocio ("move over, Casanova!").
The last verse even sounds out of sorts, as though he came in too early (ooer), and instead of the swaggering interludes on his theoretical expertise in erogenous zones, he's left trying to salve his ego, mumbling about how he's gonna get his money back from the bookstore and if he can't please, a woman at least he can hand-kind himself as the choir squawks and gags and sputters into nothingness.
I think this might be my favorite song of the album for how well-constructed it is, and how the music tells the story of a boy coming in like a lion and winding up like a little Lamb.
The lyrics are obvious--boy think his dick is God's Gift to Women, boy finally meets a woman, boy quickly finds out that it takes a lot more than his macho fantasies (and a textbook on erogenous zones) to be a real lover.
But the musical construction! After the aggression and menacing swagger of "Back in NYC", we get a jaunty show-tune melody full unearned confidence, mixed with some of "NYC"'s hard edge as he boasts about how his studies will make him an unstoppable Don Juan that no woman could resist.
The tension starts building, the choir eggs him on with rhythmic ooos, the beat insistently starts throbbing to a crescendo as things get heavy and they unzip (whoopee!)--and just when you're expecting a massive climax, it turns into a limp, twiddly...er, solo that he tries to salvage with braggadocio ("move over, Casanova!").
The last verse even sounds out of sorts, as though he came in too early (ooer), and instead of the swaggering interludes on his theoretical expertise in erogenous zones, he's left trying to salve his ego, mumbling about how he's gonna get his money back from the bookstore and if he can't please, a woman at least he can hand-kind himself as the choir squawks and gags and sputters into nothingness.
Brilliant.