I just got back from doing my marketing, and the PA system at the Shop-Rite was playing what seemed to be the long version of “Won’t You Take Me to Funky Town?” Leaving me entirely too much time to contemplate the singer’s seemingly intense desire to be taken to Funky Town.
I would think that by the third verse, it would have dawned on her that he had no intention of taking her to Funky Town, and that she was just wasting her breath. The repeated chorus of “talk about it talk about it talk about it talk about it” would indicate that this has been hashed out before, and indeed is becoming a sore spot in their relationship.
Why, I wonder, can’t she go to Funky Town herself? Doesn’t she have a car? Is there no public transportation in Funky Town? I assume she has been to Funky Town before and knows where it is.
He obviously has his reasons for not wanting to take her to Funky Town. I, for one, would like to establish how Funky Town got its name before going there–is it a hip, happening place? Or does it just smell really, really bad?
Perhaps I am reading too much into this, and there is no dark reason for her wanting to be taken to Funky Town. Maybe the Funky Town Public Library has a really good selection of new nonfiction. Or a new pet-food store.
Still, he has his reasons, and I think she should just resign herself to not being taken to Funky Town. Her repeated requests ring a warning bell to me–I think she tends to get entirely too funky once there, and he is mortified. Even Funky Town has its standards of decorum, and once you’ve been snubbed by the Funky Town social elite . . . well, you’ve been snubbed.
Umm, it’s one word: Funkytown. In the U.S., Lipps, Inc. took Funkytown to #1 in 1980, while Pseudo Echo’s version in 1987 got to #6. We know one city that isn’t Funkytown: “Inspired by [song writer Steven] Greenberg’s boredom with Minneapolis and his desire to move someplace else, the song told of his desire to more to a ‘Funkytown’.”
Unca Cece has reviewed the location of Podunk – perhaps he will take on the task of finding Funkytown for us. A couple of possible clues: in 1968, Arthur Cooley got to #14 with a song about Funky Street, which may or may not be located in the aforementioned Funkytown. And In 1968 Bill Cosby got all the way to #98 talking about Funky North Philly, which would seem to imply that Philadelphia, or at least sections thereof, is the spot which various singers have so longingly sung about.
You know, upon reflection, I’m not sure he isn’t wise not to take her to Funky Town. Her desire to go there is so strong and overwhelming it would bound to end in disappointment. Even the Paris Exposition of 1900 couldn’t stand up to the yearning and expectation she has for Funky Town.
“Oh . . . This is Funky Town? Hmmm. It’s not quite what I expected. I mean, there’s a dry cleaner and a McDonald’s and a very nice little park over there, and . . . Well, it’s not quite as funky as I’d thought it would be. I’ve changed my mind. Let’s go to Hoboken instead; there’s a great steak restaurant there.”
Oh, Eve, I haven’t laughed this hard in a long time! Thank you for starting my Saturday off right!
After reading your post I was intrigued. I didn’t remember many of the lyrics, but I thought perhaps if perused, they might give us a clue as to why that girl was so desperate to get taken to Funky Town and why, as you said, she couldn’t just go there alone.
Sadly, the lyrics don’t give us much insight into this tormented soul’s reasons. She does state that she needs to find a town that’s right for her, she needs some energy, she needs to move on and that she wants to go right now. These clues suggest to me that she might, shall we say, have a little “monkey on her back”. Perhaps Funky Town is the only place to get the really good stuff, but it’s too dangerous to go there alone. Additionally, she implies that she doesn’t want to just go there. It appears that once there, she intends to put down roots.
Or I could be all wrong. Perhaps this is the song that she used to sing to her mom as a little girl, when she wanted to be taken to her favorite toy store, Funky Town. You know how kids are, she just repeated the request over and over ad nauseam
until her mom, in a desperate attempt to shut her up, finally took the brat to Funky Town and bought her whatever it took to ensure blessed silence.
Ah–well, itsjustme, perhaps you have hit upon his reasons for not wanting to rush right off to Funky Town. Who knows what the apartment situation is like there? Perhaps they already have a nice little sublet north of Funky Town, and he–quite sensibly–does not want to rush off willy-nilly and let her just rent the first place she finds. You’d want to be adult about this; consult the Funky Times’ classifieds and see what’s the rental and co-op situation; maybe make an appointment with Funky Realtors (“Your Funky Town Apartment Finder Since 1968!”) and see a few places before making up their minds.
It sounds to me like she just needs a ride to Funkytown. Either it’s too far to walk (I imagine it’s a suburb of Paradise City, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty) or, she’s just feeling run-down. She says Funkytown is the “place with energy,” so she could just be too tired to walk. Unless she’s referring to the new Funkytown Nuclear Reactor.
The ironic part is that once Lipps became Lipps, Inc., she was able to rent a car or even hire a driver to take her to Funkytown and could write it off as a business expense.
She wants to go to Funkytown because, while in Erotic City, she heard of a new club named the Copa Cabana. What she didn’t know, though, was that the Copa Cabana was actually in Galveston.
They took the Last Train to Clarksville so they could catch the shuttle to Allen Town, since they both had a Ticket to Ride from there to Funkytown.
Well, as luck would have it, they got hijacked to New York, New York, where they got stuck in a long line of people waiting for the Last Dance.
She whines and complains about this, so he (having Friends In Low Places) makes a phone call and asks the Operator for Directory Assistance. Well, that’s when finds out about the club not even being in Funkytown but in Galveston.
Fed up with all the running around and her constant whining, he just walks away, muttering to himself “I Should’ve Been A Cowboy.”
Now that I think about it (think about it, think about it), when Psuedo Echo sang about it (sang about it, sang about it), it did seem to have lost some of its funkiness.
Perhaps a trip to Boogie Wonderland would be a better idea.
