By Michael Waldrep

Staff Writer

 

Come December 16, you will have the chance to watch me make a complete and total ass of myself on the dance floor. It will be ugly. Maybe not as awful as the hippie shuffle, but certainly not good-looking. Why, you ask?

       Gregg Gillis, mild-mannered biomedical engineer by day, becomes the sweaty, half-naked, Dell-wielding Girl Talk by night. His latest, greatest album, Night Ripper is an absolute phenomenon that has been yearning to be played through some speakers with a bit more heft than my macbook’s ever since I heard him. And so shall it be. Although I know that classes are cancelled for our wonderfully helpful weekend reading period, pure unbridled joy is not. This Saturday, at the Dionysus Disco, pretty much every party song from the past 10 years will be played. And you should be there. So long as you bathe. Sorry, 1/6 of Oberlin.  By now Gillis has been sent through the wringer of the Weblogosphere a few dozen times and has received every review from “overhyped” to “I’d suck his dick” from the select few whose meritorious opinions seem to have earned them Weblogs (or if you prefer, Webls). The former reviewer, of course, is way hipper than the latter, and knew about The Knife like, a year ago, man. That said, the second reviewer, while perhaps a little bit too into sucking dick as a form of critical praise, is much more on target.

 

       Girl Talk is not the greatest thing that’s ever existed. He has, however, taken the greatest parts of great songs and put them all together. Night Ripper is a 40 minute record that cruises along at the level that most songs today peak at. When Night Ripper peaks, it’s pretty much earth-shattering. The sublime moments, such as the moment when Kanye’s “Gold Digger” meets Pilot’s (who’s?) “Magic,” or M83’s French ponderous techno versus D4L’s Atlanta crunk-track-about-too-large-labia, are great moments in mash-up. Perfect, albeit unexpected, matches between two songs. However, despite common opinion, this is not a mash-up record. I prefer to liken it to DJ Shadow’s classic Endtroducing, a meticulous musical collage comprising hundreds of samples fit together to create an entirely new piece of music. Night Ripper simply samples classic and recent hits from the radio instead of esoteric soul recordings from dusty record crates.

      Regardless, it’s no mix-tape. Night Ripper may appeal to over-intellectualizing Pitchfork readers, but play it for a room of people who just really like hip-hop and they’ll love it. It’s insanely fun music with nigh universal appeal. It distills all the fun from literally hundreds of songs and puts it together into a simple package. The man understands what makes music enjoyable, and is a genius in his own right. He’s the guy at the party who knows exactly what to put on. Now, imagine that indescribable talent put to tape and allowed to run wild.

     Girl Talk live reaches into new levels of great. All the way into the rad-o-sphere, if you will. Gillis dons a three piece suit and bounces up and down in front of his laptop. Traditionally the seething mass of dancing people storm the stage and start undressing him, and while that seems like it’d be a little weird at Oberlin, who knows? He mixes the hits from Night Ripper but he’s just as likely to throw in the latest top 40 hit – the palette is constantly changing. As if this weren’t enough, Gillis is partial to covering Nirvana. Like, live, singing.  At this point, you’re either with me, or you haven’t actually heard Girl Talk yet and you’re still unsure. I’ve played the album on many occasions now, and I’ve yet to have anybody come over and say anything ill of it. I’d probably slap that person. Luckily, this just isn’t going to happen. You’ll like it. Trust me.

       I love to dance, but I can’t do it. Without the input of a reasonable amount of chemicals, I’m pretty much standing on the wall. Girl Talk is the exception to this rule. I’m going to dance. Like, a lot.  Even if you hate having fun, listening to fun music, or generally being happy, come laugh at me. I won’t give a damn. All pretension, all restraint, it’s all going out the window. I am going to enjoy myself. I’m going to have an amazing time, and I hope that you’ll all join me.