I am so very ashamed for loving this song. It is trite. Its lyrics, while meaningful (boy is crazy about girl, but girl is toying with boy's affections -- she is young and fickle -- he might be a bit of a nerd with the characteristic ectomorphic* Steve Urkel physique and the lovestruck puppy dog eyes of every young science student who secretly craves the attentions of a high school cheerleader), are just sung as superficial poetry. But ---The damned problem is that it happens to be the perfect pop AM rock n' roll single. The Foundations, who performed it, were amazingly, joyously musical. Period.
Memorable, light, uplifting, sing-along lyrics (everybody at the Baby Boomer party knows this song, as do TWO FULL GENERATIONS hence!), predictable rhyme. Full instrumentation. Whining Hammond organ with Leslie speakers. Bongos. Lush harmony. Singing (and chorus response!). Dynamics (softer, louder, buildups, bits of bongo-bopping suspense between each repeat of the refrain), Modulation. Studio fade at the end -- the magic part where the key escalates a half-step or so and the volume fades rapidly away as the group levitates upward to rock n' roll heaven, and leaves us wanting more.
Once infected with the song, it plays over and over in our heads -- even during algebra examinations, the SATs, the MCATs or while studying to pass the Board examination for some profession to which we've chosen to surrender and possibly sacrifice our childhoods.
Sometimes a solid single is a home run.
The Foundations... "Build Me Up Buttercup."
Go ahead. Enjoy it. Sing along. Feel as light as a breeze. Forget about who you are pretending to be, and let the music do what no tricylic antidepressant, SSRI, benzodiazepine pill or therapy session could ever do -- give you an experience of carefree, smiling contentment. Music (and perhaps humor) is the very best medicine. A love of rhythm, rhyme, melody, harmony is hard-wired into our brains, hearts (metaphorically) and souls.
Incidentally, one of the hints of a classic is your uncanny knack of being able to know what song is about to be played within the first fraction of a second or single measure of music.
*If you are not familiar with the term "ectomorphs" or "ectomorphic" look these words up either through dictionary.com or by plugging Sheldon's Anatomical Types into several of your favorite search engines. Of course, I was an ectomorph, deluxe with nerdy (but loyal) friends, underdeveloped physique, unfulfilled romantic fantasies, and dreams of both curing cancer and being a rock star.
-- DAZZ (who became Douglas E. Castle, or vice versa)
Again: Go ahead. Enjoy it. Sing along. Feel as light as a breeze. Experience carefree, smiling contentment. Music (and perhaps humor) is the very best medicine. A love of rhythm, rhyme, melody, harmony and the communion of singing together is hard-wired into our brains, hearts (metaphorically) and souls. Don't fight it. Please click and play. Do it as many times as you like. If the link is broken, or if the video player refuses to cooperate...go to http://www.youtube.com and look up Build Me Up Buttercup...you'll get a batch of responses.
Please forward this to every one of your neglected acquaintances (as an ice-breaker), very overly stressed friend, and anybody who could use some non-FDA-regulated cheering up! This may be just the excuse you need to get back in touch, or to rebuild a bridge.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QXJL5B3Lb3s
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