Infernal, "From Paris to Berlin (Radio Edit)" (2004)

Having two choruses, none at all, or delaying it are all innovative approaches to the pop song, but sometimes all you need is one good idea that you repeat the hell out of. This track, a monstrous Europop hit by a Danish group, is basically one bit done over and over. There's no real difference, tune-wise, between verse and chorus. But that one bit pounds away, hammering itself into our heads, while the producers do unspeakable things to it. One moment they turn the vocals down; then they mutate it; another second later, the vocalist is growling like a demented tiger in heat. All the while the music warps in and out. And all this is a perfect fit for the despairing lyric: going from disco to disco, our heroine finds that everything is different yet the same, as she searches for someone, anyone.

What is a chorus if not a repetition of the catchiest bit of a song? And if so, a song with pretty much nothing but chorus must be bloody fantastic. Sure, technically, this has a couple of verses, but even they are sung to more-or-less the same melody as the chorus. And what a chorus. It's insanely catchy -- but then again it would be, since it's pretty much all we hear. But to keep things from getting stale, the vocals and production keep changing from moment to moment. The voice is processed at points, and untouched at others; but even when the latter occurs, the vocals still sound defamiliarized, alien. In the background the beats and sounds hardly ever stand still: now plonk plonk plonk, then beep beep beep. Each night a disco awaits. It might be the same one, or a different one, but, as the lyric suggests, it hardly matters.

Sometimes all you need is one simple idea. Then: repeat ad nauseam. "From Paris to Berlin" takes one infectious bit, and throws it at us, over and over and over, then again, some more. From Paris to Berlin, and every disco I get in, my heart is pumping for love, pumping for love. Meanwhile, the producers throw the kitchen sink at the song. Frrrrrrom Paris to Berlin, and every disco I get in, my heart is pumping for love, pumping for love. FROM! Paris to Berlin, and every disco I get in, my heart is pumping for love, pumping for love. Stuck in a groove, stuck in a rut. Stuck in a groove, stuck in a rut. Woah-oh, whoa-oh, whoa-oh. Massive.