My Deconstructed Humps

Deconstruction is a dense and difficult theory to learn, and to read texts by its creator, Jacques Derrida, can be compared to driving a tractor with a heap of sleeping pills coursing through your veins. The basic definition is texts are unstable because of the multiple meanings attached to every word, and because of this instability a text’s meaning can be subverted, which means a text’s meaning can be changed 180 degrees from what it supposedly says. That’s still pretty vague, but what can you do? Texts are unstable.

An excellent way to understand Deconstruction is with music. A musician can cover a song and deconstruct its meaning very easily. Jimi Hendrix’s version of the “Star Spangled Banner” is a superb example. He doesn’t even sing the words and yet he takes our militant national anthem and makes it into a protest song. How does he do this? At the climax of the song, the part with the highest notes, the part that most singers hate because it is so difficult to sing, Hendrix adds sound effects. The line is “And the rocket’s red glare / The bombs bursting in air.” After this line, Hendrix imitates a bomb screaming down from the air and blowing up. You can hear the shrapnel dispersing and destroying all in its way. What is supposed to be rousing and proud sounds terrifying and painfully real.

Another example is making the rounds on YouTube. Alanis Morissette covers The Black Eye Peas' song, “My Humps”. (See Youtube for vids.) The Peas’ version is a light dance track with repetitive rhymes of a woman stating that her humps bring her cash and drive the men crazy. It’s a lark and fun to dance to, but there isn’t much underneath nor is there supposed to be any deeper meanings. But then Morissette covers it with a bare piano and turns in into a mournful, bitter song. She also covers the video, making fun of the Peas’ posturing, but also has a shot of her crying with her makeup smearing like Courtney Love or Tammy Fay Baker. So she not only deconstructs the song but the video as well. Good job, Ms. Morissette. Derrida is smiling, as he shovels more coal for his satanic overlord.