The Lyrics to "Everybody Have Fun Tonight"

Since its original release in 1986, "Everybody Have Fun Tonight" has been one of the most vital one-hit wonders. Its staying power has a lot to do with its simple structure, its relentlessly upbeat tone and its unique "Wang Chung" hook. It has been unchallenged as an example of how to write a feel-good, dancefloor-filling classic pop hit.

Until today, that is.

The song's joyous exterior conceals a rotten core of lyrical decrepitude, and it demands — after 20 years of floating by on nostalgia and lazy listening — a rigorous analysis.

The problems start right at the beginning.

I'd drive a million miles / to be with you tonight

Now, let's assume that it's, say, noon. That gives our lead singer 12 hours of driving time to fulfill his pledge of driving a million miles "to be with you tonight." Obviously, there are going to be incidental delays (tolls, stopping for gas, the inevitable last-minute search for the wallet, In-N-Out burgers, taking the wrong exit outside of Sacramento, etc.). These will probably reduce actual driving time to around 11 hours.

That means that Mr. Chung will need to drive the Wang Chungmobile roughly 91,000 miles for every hour he's on the road, necessitating a speed of about 91,000 mph.

Three problems with this plan: first, that's a lot of gasoline. In these energy-conscious times, who wants to be responsible for this kind of fossil-fuel consumption? The song shouldn't be called "Everybody Have Fun Tonight"; it should be called "Everybody Provoke a New Middle Eastern Oil War Tonight."

Second, no one has the stamina to drive for 11 hours straight. Mr. "be with you" is going to have to bring a car buddy. What will said buddy do when the car arrives at its destination, which, based on distance alone, must be the moon, or the asteroid belt, or the Earth's molten core? Sure, you can go down to Applebee's and have a drink with the molten-rock men who come in after a long day at the molten-rock factory, but those guys are really tedious. Molten rock this, molten rock that. Igneous this, metamorphic that. Blah blah blah.

Third, why is it so romantic to drive for a long distance? Who but Stephin Merritt finds long-haul truckers sexy? The Proclaimers wisely promised to walk roughly 1,000 miles to be with their brogueish Scottish girlfriends. They knew that energy efficiency, physical exercise and having girlfriends who are not living in a moon colony are all qualities that lend a pop song real poetic oomph. The American vs. European divide becomes evident once again, and once again American men are on the losing end. Damn the Proclaimers and their reasonable Eurocentric promises of love.

So if you're feeling low / turn up your radio
The words we use are strong / they make reality
But now the music's on / oh baby dance with me

You know who would like this part of the song? Paul Wolfowitz and Karl Rove, that's who. "The words we use are strong / they make reality." A classic melodic expression of the philosophic concept that mere facts can be ignored, and that spin and "correct" ideology reign supreme over what lazy thinkers call "the real world." All it takes is a cardboard backdrop with the right word, repeated over and over again ("faith," "accountability," "Wang") and — check it out! — you've defined reality.

Listen up, Wang Chung — this is the kind of thinking that got us hip-deep into Iraq.

Deep in the world tonight / Our hearts beat safe and sound
I'll hold you so close / Just let yourself go down

Go down where exactly? Down to where your penis happens to be? Don't play innocent. You can "go down" to the store, or "go down" to the Carolinas, but when you "let yourself go down," you're either losing a boxing match or smoking pole.

The point of popular music is not to tell women to give you blowjobs. That's crude and offensive. The point is to sort of imply that you will give them the oral pleasure that Oprah has informed them they so desperately need, in order that they will give you blowjobs in advance.

"Deep in the world tonight," incidentally, seems to tip the band's hand. The "million mile" reference was, indeed, an expedition to the Earth's molten core.

Across the nation, around the world
Everybody have fun tonight
A celebration / so spread the word

Kind of a fun message, until you think about it more carefully. Who, for example, wants to be the official "Have Fun" ambassador to Pakistani Kashmir?

Job Title: "Wang Chung Have Fun Ambassador to Pakistani Kashmir"

Pay/Benefits: Up to 1,000,000 miles worth of gasoline, the right to suggest to Pakistani women that it's time to let themselves go down

Job Description: Tell battered earthquake survivors in the Pakistani-controlled region of Kashmir that it's time to Wang Chung

And who's going to spread the word in Saudi Arabia? The penalty in Saudi Arabia for speaking of either Wang or Chung (both regarded as "false gods") in public involves high-speed chopping, and it's not pleasant.

Everybody / Everyone
Everybody / Everyone
[Can you tell me what a "wang chung" is?]
Everybody / Everyone

Here, the band's original flimsy and tattered premise finally collapses. The mystery they've deliberately cultivated about their mock-Asian name is, as is revealed here, nothing more than an empty sheath, a hollow dummy, a mask without a face. If even the band's backing singers don't know what a wang chung is, can any of us?

The words we use are strong. They make reality. Wang Chung, you have used the wrong words, and have consequently created a tortured reality where logic and human decency have ceased to exist.

The time for atonement is now.

— James Norton (jrnorton@flakmag.com)