I have to preface my second entry by setting up what kind of bar you have to enter to the following song. Ideally this track would accompany the entrance to either your neighborhood watering hole on Quizzo night, a sleepy pub around the corner where every stool’s spoken for or a pretentious popped-collar factory known for 4 oz beers and a generally insulting waitstaff . Now that you’ve got the right context contexted, here’s the jam I’m jawing about:
“Bombs Over Baghad” doesn’t only not take no for an answer, it slaps you with a diamond crusted pimp glove for even asking the question. It stuffs your ears with C4 and hotwires the fuse to your junk, which can’t help but tingle the first time Andre 3000 attacks the mic with the tenacity of a purposefully starved wolverine. And that’s what happens if you listen on your headphones from the safe confines of your home or office or in my case home office.
If “Bomb’s Over Baghdad” played anytime you entered one of the aforementioned establishments all of the following would happen close to simultaneously: a bartender would get punched by a fellow bartender, a row of champagne bottles would explode, all the lightbulbs would give off an additional three-hundred watts, a woman would find Jesus, Jesus would find his own personal Jesus, one table of patrons would devolve back into monkeys (freaking Jesus out), a couple would start having sex after which the woman would give instant birth to a baby Big Boi doppleganger, everything would turn to sped-up stop-motion, one person with brown eyes would suddenly have hazel eyes and across the world bombs full of glitter would explode in the sky above Baghdad.
I’m sure you can see now why it’s the second entry in my quest for the perfect bar entry song, and why I can never enter a bar to it.