Overlooked Songs of 2011: "Countdown" by Beyonc̩
December 30, 2011
In 2011, one DJ’s guilty pleasure was another’s song of the year. At some point, your favorite embarrassing Top 40 jam probably earned a spot among some publication’s best tracks of the year, from the overwrought (“Someone Like YouÛ) to the nonsensical (“Super BassÛ) to the swagged-out/opulent/batshit crazy (“N****s in ParisÛ). But 2011’s best pop song, BeyoncÌ©’s “Countdown,” borrowed a little something from each the above ÛÒ the mania, the emotion, the maximum-wattage #swag ÛÒ to construct a career-defining track.
And a love of BeyoncÌ©/Top 40 radio/pop music as a genre isn’t necessary to appreciate “Countdown.” It’s true that BeyoncÌ© at her worst can exemplify the bloated nature of pop todayÛÒ the split personalities, the over-the-top riffing, the meme-worthy music videos. But thankfully, BeyoncÌ© has mostly managed to avoid the pitfalls of obnoxious pop stardom by assuming a relatively old-fashioned take on fame – keeping exposure of her personal life to a minimum, co-writing her own material, and even daring to experiment with what a pop hit can – and should – sound like. If only they could all sound like “Countdown,” BeyoncÌ©’s most innovative, genre-spanning, peculiar and utterly triumphant song to date.
It’s easy to peg the other songs on 4, BeyoncÌ©’s newest album, for their Top 40-bound treatmentÛÒ the powerhouse anthem (“1 1Û), the ebullient radio-ready love song (“Love on TopÛ), the empowering kiss-off track (“Best Thing I Never HadÛ), the laid-back party song w/requisite rap verse (“PartyÛ) and the club banger (“Run the World (Girls)”). And then, there’s “Countdown. ” The song sounds straight-up weird on first listen ÛÒ do those numbers even make sense? On what planet are pop hits structured like this? Did she really just say “Me and my boof and my boof boof ridin?” Take another listen, or two, or twenty, and all the song’s little quirks eventually bleed together into a non-stop sequence of flawless hooks.
Knowles has described the song as a cut-and-paste endeavor, saying of the production, “I was like a mad scientist, putting lots of different songs together.” “Countdown” is experimental for current pop music’s standards, and for all its borrowing from afrobeat, funk and Boyz II Men, the song’s spirit belongs to Queen B alone. You can dissect “Countdown” to try and pinpoint what gives the song its sparkle: the dancehall percussion keeps the tempo rolling, the marching band horns provide an irresistible bounce and the xylophone gives the rhythm a nimble backbone, all complemented by a few well-placed finger snaps. BeyoncÌ©’s vocals are perfectly appropriate, in a rare performance that’s uncharacteristically understated but big in all the right places.
But the sheer radiance of “Countdown” is far more than a sum of the song’s parts. At the core of BeyoncÌ©’s by-the-numbers extolling of her man’s strengths, beneath all the swagger, is the word “still.” From the song’s very first line, where she sings, “Killin’ me softly, and I’m still falling/Still the one I need, I will always be with you,” “Countdown” is dizzy with bewilderment. It’s as if BeyoncÌ© can’t quite believe her luck; that for all the shitty dudes she’s trashed and raged at and cried over in “Irreplacable” and “If I Were A Boy” and “Ring the Alarm,” she managed to snag a good one. “Countdown” proves that BeyoncÌ©’s at her best when she’s deliriously in love, and thankfully for pop music, she’s still crazy after all these years.
