Pitbull has recently become a bit of a recurring joke in my circle of friends. It started with my friend Andrew drunkenly attending a Pitbull set at a festival and texting everyone about how he was playing “the bud light song!” Since then, it has led to all of us listening to Pitbull’s 2011 album Planet Pit in its entirety during a recent road trip.
Halfway through I was convinced that I would later be writing a Cover Story feature on the song “Shake Senora (feat. T-Pain and Sean Paul).”1 It was going to be about how having T-Pain sing part of the song “Jump In The Line” by Harry Belafonte is strangely off-putting. I was going to talk about how Belafonte’s song—and most of his work—is a thoroughly human piece of music, and how T-Pain’s highly-processed vocals seem to clash with the humanistic vibe of the music.
But then we got to the last track on the album, and I knew what I had to write.
How the fuck did “Something for the DJ’s” get made?
Seriously, how did a group of adult, sane human beings think that turning “If You’re Happy and You Know It”2 into a sleazy club track? How did no one stop them? Was there no around to tell them not to? And who allowed it to be included on this album? How did Pitbull, David Guetta, and all of their cohorts manage to avoid anyone who could realize just how monumentally idiotic that track is?
The other day that same group of friends hung out and drunkenly watched the 1996 film I.Q.3 If you aren’t familiar, it’s a Tim Robbins/Meg Ryan romantic comedy about Albert Einstein trying to fix up his niece with a mechanic (It’s worse than you think). Again, I could not get my head around the idea of how many people had to say “Okay, I will be involved in the making of this film,” despite the fact that they must have known what an awful film I.Q. would be. ”Something For The DJ’s” is the same way. It’s a terrible, terrible, terrible idea that no one objected to.