Backup Dancers From Hell: Train - “Marry Me”

We start out with mini-interviews with various happily-coupled people, as they sit on a couch and chatter about how they met and what life has been like since then. It’s very sweet and touching. Unless you’re currently not in a relationship. Then it’s a wee bit irritating, especially when they won’t quite smiling. And they’re all straight. Where are the Rainbow People? Isn’t this band from San Francisco? Anyway…

We get to the video proper, and we’re in a diner somewhere. We get atmospheric shots of coffee brewing and orders on the wheel for the short-order cook. Then we hop over to the band performing on a subdued set with no accessories or props. And these are our two story lines. People ordering greasy things they shouldn’t eat and acoustic musicians apparently on a budget. And go.

Pat starts singing the song (which really is beautiful, not taking away from that) while a waitress is tidying up the counter after heathen diners have left a mess. She also has to deal with a coffee cup that some fool has apparently thrown on the floor as they left, having been raised in a barn or at least a house where crockery is not respected. She’s only dabbing daintily at the spilled coffee instead of quickly wiping the whole mess up, so she’s got some focus issues.

Then we spy Pat sitting in one of the booths and wearing an odd hat, pretending to read a paper but really watching Blondie as she screws around with the spilled caffeine. This allows us to get a close-up shot of Blondie, and of course she’s stunning in a wholesome sunshine way. She glances up at Pat, he smiles, she smiles, and you know that they instantly want each other more than anything in the entire world. Except possibly cheaper unlimited rates on their calling plans.

But, dang it, they can’t consummate their passion just yet. It seems that some other patron’s damn pancakes are ready, and Blondie (let’s call her Rebecca, as in the one with the farm, shall we?) has to scurry off because the now-hated cook is banging on his stupid little bell. Rebecca sighs, Pat sighs, and we cut back to the plain studio where Pat is singing while that Howie Mandel look-alike plays guitar beside him.

Diner again, with Rebecca doling out plates of food to a happy couple in another booth. (Side note: Some of the folks from the intro are playing couples in the diner as well. Awww.) She smiles at them brightly, pretending to care, then she glances over at Pat’s booth, to see how her future husband is doing.

And he’s gone. How sad. Rebecca crumbles emotionally, then turns to wander off somewhere and be devastated.

Back to the studio, where Pat and Howie look tragically stricken over the harsh severing of the budding relationship.

Diner once more, with Becky trying really hard to keep herself together as she waits on other people ordering pointless food in a world that is dark and unsatisfying, with lovers being ripped apart in cruel and painful ways. She pours coffee and snatches up tips, but her heart is broken forever, and the nunnery may be her only option.

The various couples in the booths don’t care if Rebecca has been crushed by the gods. They’re hungry and they want the blue plate special. That’s all that’s important. The couples clasp hands and smile at one another. A lot. Which only sends daggers of pain into Becky’s trembling, stomped-upon heart. These couples should not be surprised if a bit of arsenic mysteriously makes its way into their Denver omelets.

More studio time with Pat and friends. (Just curious. What happened to Pat’s waist? It’s a straight line from ear to foot. Hate him a little bit.)

At the diner, Rebecca apparently can’t concentrate on slinging hash, so she rips off her cute little waitress apron and throws it down, then marches out of the diner. Once outside, she glances hither and yon for any sign of Pat, her AWOL lover. Sadly, her yearning eyes find no purchase, and the dawn is bleak. (Yes, I just went Shakespeare on your ass. It felt right.) Becky, fighting tears, heads back inside.

Where she decides to just sit at one of the booths and sigh discontentedly. She stares at her cup of coffee and tries to process the fact that her life must surely be over because the man she knew for fifteen whole minutes is now gone from her life, and there’s no point in going on. Then her saddened eyes glance over at the sacred booth where Pat’s butt was planted before he destroyed her emotionally. She spies his funky hat on one of the seats, apparently tossed aside just like she has been. Oh?

She rushes to fondle the one remaining symbol of her errant lover, touching the brim with a yearning that far surpasses any other yearning ever felt on this planet. Lo and behold, altar-dumping Pat comes back in to the diner right at that moment. Their eyes meet, smiles are exchanged, and the video fades.

There’s still hope, folks. You can meet the man of your dreams while serving biscuits and gravy. Just make sure he understands that you want him desperately before you leave the check at his table…


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Backup Dancers From Hell: Train - “If It’s Love”

We start off with a disclaimer that after years of touring, Train took some time off. And the following is what they did in their spare time. Okay, then, let’s see.

Zoom in on Pat sitting at a makeup station, while some specialist makes sure that his hair retains that “just got out of bed look even though I paid someone hundreds of dollars to individually place each strand of hair”. The technician finishes and scurries off, so Pat stands up to admire the work as well as his all white outfit. He then puts on a black jacket and goes off to apparently not tour.

He walks into a bedroom that might have been decorated by the first person kicked off of this season’s “Design Star”. (Vern would scream and run from the room.) He sits on the bed and starts singing. Right in the middle of his vocals, he decides to take a nap, pulling the blankets over him. Well, I suppose you can sleep whenever you want if you’re not touring, but seriously, dude, we’re in the middle of a video.

Whoops, Pat is sitting back up on the bed and the covers aren’t messed up, so maybe I only imagined that last little bit. Pat sings some more for a while, and it gets just a wee bit boring, so my mind wanders and I wonder about things like where did he find that old-fashioned TV tray and what the hell happened to that lampshade.

Cut to Pat singing with the band, which I thought they weren’t supposed to be doing right now, but everybody looks happy so I guess I shouldn’t quibble. They appear to be performing at some fancy shindig with velvet ropes keeping the unpopular people away from the good stuff. Paparazzi are dashing about and I’m sure Paris Hilton is around somewhere, trying to figure out how she can make this event about her.

Now we have the story of what Jimmy did on his down time, when he apparently “tried new and inventive ways to raise money”. We see him at a pawn shop trying to unload a guitar, and I hate to break it to good ole Jimmy, but that’s not really a new and inventive thing to do. People have been going to pawn shops since they invented expensive drugs. Jimmy does get some cash, but he’s dissatisfied with the amount and stomps out of the store, realizing that with a tight budget he can only get his head waxed every other week.

More of the band singing, and I notice that there are several people not even watching the band do their thing. These people get on my nerves at concerts. Why are you even here if you’re not going to hold your hands over your head and quiver like orgasms are wracking your body? And I don’t care if you are just an extra hired for this video shoot, not knowing the difference between Train and Caboose, get into character or you will never be hired for another fake audience.

Next up is what Scott did last summer, which involves trying to sell his songs while standing beside a busy road. (Just me, or is this band not all that creative when they aren’t making music?) Some rich guy finally pulls up in his fancy car, handing over some cash for one of Scott’s CD’s with its crappy album art. Scott then does a jig of happiness before racing off to meet his inbred relatives for the barn dance over in Vagina Holler.

And more of the band singing. This time the crowd seems far more enthusiastic, so they must have gotten the memo I sent earlier. The paparazzi go crazy with camera flashes when Pat does one of his signature moves, an interesting mix of street cool and Herman Munster changing a light bulb. One girl in the front of the crowd is so excited she nearly gives birth.

We now learn that Train “even made some TV appearances”. Oh? Cut to Pat wearing some farm boy getup, complete with ball cap. It’s not that attractive, but the other guys are dressed as giant chickens, so Pat should really keep quiet or they’ll find something even more embarrassing for him to wear. The show they are taping appears to be some version of “Dancing with the Poultry Stars”, with the giant chickens trying to pop-and-lock without tripping over hay bales. Pat is not impressed with any of this, so he just stands there and waits for the shame to recede.

The little director guy doesn’t like something about the scene (you might wanna start with the whole concept of animals that talk and dance, eh?), so he stomps up and waves his hands around. Pat doesn’t care, and signals the video editor to cut back to the band in happier times, which includes shots of Pat eating dinner and watching “his favorite TV show”, which is him and the band accepting a Grammy award. This vision thrills Pat so much that he can only chew on one side of his mouth.

We get to the quiet part of the song just before the grand finale, so we head back to Pat and his bedroom, where he’s had it with his fancy clothes and starts ripping them off. But instead of titillating partial nudity, we are treated to Pat wearing his regular clothes underneath. Pat wanders out of the room, and the next thing you know the whole band is performing at a real concert.

And that’s how we wind down the song and the video, with Pat and the gang giving the audience just what they want. (With a few shots of a poultry uprising back on the film set, with the giant chickens and Farmer Pat hurling eggs at the irritating director.) We fade to black.

But not before we see a fleeting image of Paris Hilton trying to storm the stage to warble her new single, “If It’s Not About Me, You Need To Leave”…

　

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