Those of you reading this who used to be 8-year-old girls
might recall that thing that we used to do at sleepovers, where you and your friends would, in the midst of practicing dance moves, try and make up pop songs on the spot. And the words to those songs would always (repeat: always) be about having a good time or dancing all night --
because that's what 8-year-old girls hope that grown-up life will be like. Occasionally, if you were feeling a bit naughty, you'd include a line about drinking wine or kissing boys. It was all pretty cute.
Well, it would appear that, at some point during her childhood, Paris Hilton made up a song during one of these sessions and has now decided to release it to the world, backed only by a generic dance beat and an intense sense of delusion. Listen to the rambled, cliché-ridden piece of garbage that is "Good Time" and tell us that it doesn't sound like it was made up on the spot by a child:
"I came here just to party/ Oh please don't you hate on me, yeah/ Got my sexy girls with me/ Oh I love it/ Let's party, woah, let's party/ And have a good time." Either an 8-year-old girl wrote these words, or we just got a terrifying insight into the mind of an adult human whose cerebral hamster wheel never started turning. If you are going to be this utterly inane in song form, common decency dictates that the words should, at the very least, rhyme. "Good Time" makes that Kim Kardashian song (it was called "Jam" in case you missed it) look like a prog masterpiece.
Of course this isn't Hilton's first foray into music. But that initial attempt at pop stardom -- "Stars are Blind" -- actually wasn't that bad. It wasn't good, but you could also make it around a department store with the song playing in the background without throwing yourself down an escalator. Now, of course, in a move that is forehead-slappingly stupid, Hilton has decided that she's a DJ (no really, kids, just buying some decks makes everyone a DJ!), so the dumbed-down reggae of old will no longer do for her recording output. No, this time, she wants real street cred.
Enter Lil Wayne: a man who's been granted SF Weekly's Worst New Song of the Week title more than any other artist. Initially here, he provides some comic relief by (a) opening with the line "I'm fucked up" (it feels like a "How did I get here?" apology) and (b) announcing that he "walked up to her big butt and asked her ass 'But, what?'" But then all that comedy turns to horror as Wayne announces "She fucked me like she loved me... It's Paris Hilton, bitch!"