Hoo boy, this song. I woke up with it stuck in my head today and couldn't get rid of it, and so I thought I'd make it today's feature and share my earworm with you. (You're welcome!)
The Knack's "My Sharona" invaded Philippine radio in the summer of 1979 and completely scrambled my six-year-old brain. It's the first rock song I can remember that seized my complete attention, and I was simultaneously excited and terrified by it. I'd never heard anything like that insistent, indefatigable beat, the bass and guitars jumping octaves in military unison and exploding into the "my Sharona!" hook, the sense of propulsive energy that felt thrilling and somehow dangerous: like the theme from Jaws reborn as rock 'n' roll. I loved Doug Fieger's unbridled "my-my-my-y-y WHOOO!" in the choruses, and the way the song totally transforms in the instrumental break—veering into a sunnier major-chord progression set ablaze by Berton Averre's lead guitar, before returning to the darker, jagged riff of the verses and Fieger's wordless primal moans.
I had no idea what it meant, of course. Incredibly, it's only when I looked up the lyrics TODAY that I realized just how disturbingly predatory they are. (Little Me must have been subconsciously onto something when I linked the song to Jaws.) Roxane Gay has written about constantly making mental negotiations in order to enjoy hip-hop that has misogyny built into it, and I think that's an issue that applies to our enjoyment of a wide swath of pop music in general. I guess that makes "My Sharona" a problematic pick; but I suspect that insanely catchy riff won't leave my head until I post this, and so here's the Knack—wild-eyed looks, Han Solo outfits and all—with the song of the day.
(The album track has an electrifying extended guitar solo worth listening to as well.)
BONUS: "My Sharona" has been covered (and parodied) by a lot of groups over the years, but while most cling to the song's signature sound, the more interesting interpretations put their own spin on it. The band Veruca Salt slows it down and grunges it up—and, to my ear at least, exposes more of the song's Lolita vibe and makes you grapple with it. And the Italian band the Hormonauts offers up this amazing steampunk-rockabilly rendition.
Another thing I remember from childhood is a hilarious television ad for Minola Cooking Oil, parodying the song as "ma-ma-ma-my Minola!" Sadly, there seems to be no record of it online, but my wife and I (and, I'm sure, others who grew up in the Philippines at the time) pledge to keep its memory alive forever.
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