I Really Like The Like
(As More Than Friends)

Call me Humbert. I don’t care.

The Like give my blood a direction, and I’m not afraid to say it anymore. I know they’re probably still in high school, but that’s OK at this point. I’m only 25. My Camaro’s got a bitching hydraulics system. I know they’re just privileged LA industry kids, probably doing this for independent study credit at Crossroads, but I.

Don’t.

Give.

A.

Fuh.

Huck.

The video’s got such a sick conceit—three pouty ingénues playing their instruments and loving the camera, with softcore cinematography and SYNCHRONIZED SWIMMERS to round it out. The director sticks mostly to close-ups of the singer (the vicious alpha), then cuts to wide shots of the drummer (probably the funny one, the one who drinks the most), and then moves to an achingly slow pan down the bass player body (the secretly slutty one, by virtue of her not being alpha). To her credit she’s a prize herself, and she wears hotpants to boot. It’s strictly molester material, an indie version of late nineties’ statutory pop, but they totally make it work. Granted, they aren’t that young, but also granted—neither am I.

The single isn’t too shabby, as girl-group singles go, but I can’t imagine I’ll be listening to it in a year. One reviewer compared it to Ashlee Simpson, which is totally uncalled for, but they do tread dangerously close to WB territory, all glossy and adorable. They’re exactly what their name promises, the physical embodiment of the word “like”.

That’s kind of it, I think. No grand argument, no point of any kind, just that I like my swimming synchronized, and my bass players in hotpants.