When it comes to the wretched Foreigner, rock crit Robert Christgau said it best: “You’ve heard of Beatlemania? I propose xenophobia.” He also called the Brit-American band, whose vocalist Lou Gramm may well be the only rocker I’ve ever been glad to see defect to Christian rock, “the dullest group ever.” And he’s right. Compared to Foreigner, the oafish Bad Company played avant garde art rock.
Funny thing though: Christgau actually kinda liked “Hot Blooded.” Not me. I think it’s one of the dullest songs ever, right up there with Lionel Richie’s “Hello.” A hornirific ditty about Gramm’s priapic lustardation, it features him singing the immortally doltish lines, “I’m hot blooded/Check it and see/I’ve got a fever of 103.” Check what, I ask you Lou? Your penis thermometer? “Lou, uh, I’m having trouble getting a reading, the numbers are so tiny. Is this as big as it gets?”
It reminds me of the story about Truman Capote, who autographed a drunken woman’s breast at a party only to have her jealous boyfriend whip out his cock and challenge Capote to autograph it. Truman took one look at the fellow’s member and said, “Do you mind if I initial it?”
To be honest I don’t have much to say about either “Hot Blooded” or Foreigner, which as one of the best-selling groups of all time speaks volumes about the vast number of tasteless people on this planet, who ask only that their music be as bland and generic as they are. “Hot Blooded” boasts a not-bad guitar riff, but is otherwise as devoid of character as every other song Foreigner ever recorded. Lou disdainfully sings (revealing his Neanderthal attitude towards the opposite sex in the process), “If it feels alright/Maybe you can stay all night.” Great Lou, I’m sure that’s sexactly what she’s always wanted—to hear you snore and fart in your sleep.
Lou, do you really want to know what love is? Or do you just want to know if she does more than dance? Oh, why even ask a guy who rhymes “mind” with “mind,” when even the dimmest bulb in the bunch would know to rhyme it with “behind”? As in ass, Lou, which is, after all, what “Hot Blooded” is all about. Imagine that—a mind-bogglingly boring bromide about booty. It hardly seems possible. But the boys in Foreigner, who are less class act than ass act, make it look easy.
Somebody really should have made them sit down and study the lyrics of Aerosmith. Because compared to Foreigner’s drivel, “Schoolgirl sweetie with a classy kinda sassy/Little skirt’s climbin’ way up the knee” doesn’t just swing—it’s MENSA material.
