Song Lyric Sunday: Shake it Like a Polaroid Picture

Jim Adams is the host for SLS. This week’s theme: Appearance, Image, Likeness, Object, Picture, Photograph. The song should reference the prompt in the title or lyrics. If it doesn’t, please explain why you chose it.


Going back to 2003 today, with Hey Ya! by Outkast because this song has it all!

The music magazine, Blender, described it as an electro/folk-rock/funk/power pop/hip-hop/neo-soul/kitchen sink rave-up. They’re not wrong, and the video is a joy to watch as well.

A nostalgia stuffed four minutes with a cheeky nod to the British Invasion of the American charts in the mid-60s. Not to mention singer/songwriter André 3000 playing eight different characters.

I like this song: A lot.

Hope you do too…

One, two, three, uh

My baby don’t mess around
Because she loves me so
And this I know fo sho (uh)
But does she really wanna
But can’t stand to see me walk out the door? (Ah)
Don’t try to fight the feeling
Because the thought alone is killin’ me right now (uh)
Thank God for Mom and Dad
For sticking two together
‘Cause we don’t know how (c’mon)

Hey ya! Hey ya!
Hey ya! Hey ya!
Hey ya! Hey ya!
Hey ya! Hey ya!

You think you’ve got it
Oh, you think you’ve got it
But got it just don’t get it ’til there’s nothin’ at all
We get together
Oh, we get together
But separate’s always better when there’s feelings involved
If what they say is
“Nothing is forever”
Then what makes, then what makes
Then what makes, then what makes (what makes, what makes)
Love the exception?
So why, oh, why, oh
Why, oh, why, oh, why, oh
Are we so in denial when we know we’re not happy here?
(Y’all don’t want to hear me, you just want to dance)

Hey ya! (Uh oh) Hey ya! (Uh oh)
Don’t want to meet your daddy
Hey ya! (Uh oh)
Just want you in my Caddy (Uh oh)
Hey ya! (Uh oh)
Don’t want to meet your mama
Hey ya! (Uh oh)
Just want to make you cum-a (Uh oh)
Hey ya! (Uh oh)
I’m, I’m, I’m just being honest (Uh oh)
I’m just being honest

Hey! Alright now
Alright now, fellas (Yeah?)
Now, what cooler than being cool? (Ice cold!)
I can’t hear you
I say what’s, what’s cooler than being cool? (Ice cold!)

Alright, alright, alright, alright, alright
Alright, alright, alright, alright, alright
Alright, alright, alright, alright

Okay, now ladies (Yeah?)
Now, we gon’ break this thang down in just a few seconds
Now, don’t have me break this thang down for nothin’
Now, I want to see y’all on y’all baddest behaviour
Lend me some sugar, I am your neighbour
Ah! Here we go

Shake it, shake, shake it, shake it, shake, shake it (Uh oh)
Shake it, shake, shake it, shake it, shake it (Uh oh)
Shake it like a Polaroid picture, hey ya!

Shake it, shake, shake it, shake it, shake, shake it
Shake it, shake it, shake it, sugar
Shake it like a Polaroid picture

Now, all Beyonce’s, and Lucy Liu’s
And baby dolls
Get on the floor

Get on the floor, you know what to do
You know what to do
You know what to do

Hey ya! (Uh oh) Hey ya! (Uh oh)
Hey ya! (Uh oh) Hey ya! (Uh oh)
Hey ya! (Uh oh) Hey ya! (Uh oh)
Hey ya! (Uh oh) Hey ya! (Uh oh)

Songwriter: Andre Benjamin
© BMG Rights Management, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

Song Lyric Sunday: School of Rock

The theme from Jim Adams is songs about School, College, Education, Class, Degree.
The song must contain a reference to the prompt in the title or the lyrics.
If the song does not meet these criteria, please explain why you chose it.


Here’s a bit of Bryan Adams today with the one song in his back catalogue that makes me forgive him for (Everything I Do) I Do It for You.

Released in 1985, Summer of ‘69 only made it to number 42 on the UK charts. But my brother, the old rocker, bought the single. A move he came to regret years later when his three-year-old son fell in love with this record in the summer of ‘99.

Young Sam enjoyed nothing more than posing with a plastic guitar and belting out the lyrics at the top of his voice. But he wasn’t a selfish little diva: he wanted us all to share the moment, which we did, with gusto! Even his dad joined in the fun. Shame the musical gene in our family tree is dormant.

But this song has happy memories of summer barbecues and torturing the neighbours with our dreadful singing. Now please excuse me: I’m off to play some air guitar in the garden.

I got my first real six-string
Bought it at the five-and-dime
Played it till my fingers bled
It was the summer of ’69

Me and some guys from school
Had a band and we tried real hard
Jimmy quit and Jody got married
I shoulda known we’d never get far
Oh when I look back now
That summer seemed to last forever
And if I had the choice
Ya – I’d always wanna be there
Those were the best days of my life

Ain’t no use in complainin’
When you got a job to do
Spent my evenin’s down at the drive-in
And that’s when I met you

Standin’ on your mama’s porch
You told me that you’d wait forever
Oh and when you held my hand
I knew that it was now or never
Those were the best days of my life
Back in the summer of ’69

Man we were killin’ time
We were young and restless
We needed to unwind
I guess nothin’ can last forever – forever, no

And now the times are changin’
Look at everything that’s come and gone
Sometimes when I play that old six-string
I think about ya wonder what went wrong

Standin’ on your mama’s porch
You told me it would last forever
Oh the way you held my hand
I knew that it was now or never
Those were the best days of my life

Back in the summer of ’69
It was the summer of ’69
Me and my baby in ’69
It was the summer
It was the summer
Yeah, summer of ’69

Songwriters: Bryan Adams / James Douglas Vallance
© Testatyme Music, Adams Communications Inc.

Discover Prompts: Song

Saw the prompt and the first thing that popped into my head was the thought: music is a flying carpet. Hit with a tsunami of ideas, I settled down to write.

Two minutes later our neighbour called around (observing a 2m social distance): would we like some tomato seedlings?

Yes, we would, and thank you very much. So far, we only have 20 plants growing in yoghurt tubs on the windowsill.

Mrs Neighbour smiled, pointed to a basket at her feet, and explained these have to go in now. Not in pots, but in the ground, and they must be covered at night.

This was not music to my ears.

Cue much faffing about with sieving soil and creating a bed big enough to house 60 plants and then constructing a cloche with wire and ten metres of plastic sheeting.

We got through this ordeal by singing sea shanties, even though I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. But I like music to sing to when gardening.

For housework, I play rock or punk. I need something loud to keep me going.

My musical tastes became fossilised somewhere around the turn of the last century. All the latest modern rhythmic beat combos have passed me by.

Blame this on my formative years spent listening to my family’s elderly collection of vinyl from the 1920s to the 1980s. Hands up who remembers K-TEL and Ronco record companies!

I only have to hear a cheesy 50s pop song, and I am transported to my childhood.

Sunday mornings, helping my mum make our roast lunch and producing apple tart, jam roly-poly, Easter biscuits, Victoria sponges, cakes and crumbles.

We would sing along with the Everly Brothers and Chuck Berry, and scuffle around the kitchen to skiffle. I remember my mother teaching me three things: a rude version of “She Wears Red Feathers,” how to cook and how to jive.

Music takes me back.