Rembert Explains the ’80s: Nu Shooz, ‘I Can’t Wait’
Welcome back to our series Rembert Explains the ’80s. Every so often, we’ll e-mail 25-year-old Rembert Browne a video from the 1980s that he hasn’t seen. Rembert will write down his thoughts as he’s watching the video, then we’ll post those thoughts here. This week’s installment, “I Can’t Wait” by Nu Shooz, was selected by Hollywood Prospectus editor Mark Lisanti. If you have an idea for a future episode of Rembert Explains the ’80s, e-mail us at email@example.com.
0:05 No way.
This song has a name and an artist? I could have sworn it was called “Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah, ah ah ah ah, ah ah” by Casio Keyboard Preset Disco Groove. Unreal. The more you know (shout out to NBC.)
0:24 Now that I’m past the name, what is going on? Are the household objects commenting that they can’t wait? What are they excited for? To be used? For the humans to go away? Is this anything like Toy Story?
0:32 Here is a blurry dog wearing shades, probably from dELiA*s.
0:38 Oh yeah. This song also has non-MPC soundboard lyrics.
0:43 Our protagonist singer is sitting at her desk, which is conveniently located outside in the desert, something one has to assume shouldn’t be questioned.
At least everything makes sense so far.
0:57 I love it when the ’80s, as a unified front, would guess what the future will look like. I love it even more when those guesses are about 100 years too advanced in their projections/humanity didn’t live up to their high expectations. Example: THIS DOUBLE COFFEE POT?
I’m just guessing. It could be so many different things.
1:01 Yep. I was very wrong.
It’s a future fish tank. Or a deep fryer? Or maybe they thought the future of coffee was through fish. I don’t know. God bless their imaginations, though.
1:06 For some reason, the spelling of “Nu Shooz” doesn’t bother me as much as other blatant misspellings (day-care centers named “Kiddie Kollege” as a prime example), but I still don’t like it. There is something quite enchanting about our leading lady, however.
She seems kind.
1:19 Oh, so according to the lyrics, our lady “can’t wait” until someone calls her on the telephone. I get that feeling: the waiting game. It’s like, “I know you want to tweet at me, girl, why don’t you just tweet at me?”
I can’t wait.
It’s an anxious feeling, but also nervous and excited and scared and vulnerable. Because what if it doesn’t happen?
What if she doesn’t tweet?
Yes, this split screen is fantastic, but what I’m really interested in is if that animated clip-art magnet sucks up some of those tools from earlier. I CAN’T WAIT to watch this magnetism take place.
1:44 So far nothing, but a padlock (I think) just passed by.
1:51 Nothing that’s happening makes any sense.
Not even close.
1:54 Oh great, we’re back to the aquarium coffee pot slow roaster dumbbell.
Let me guess: It turns into a spaceship.
Wrong, but unfortunately not that wrong.
I knew I should have picked “Transformer” instead of “spaceship.” Silly me.
2:15 At least, through all the confusion, there’s a little hint of Illuminati.
It’s always nice when they stop by to say hello.
[Note: But seriously, whose fault is this music video? I need someone to blame. Or something, if it’s not a person. Like, an ideology. Or a religion. Or a TED talk.]
2:35 Presented Without Comment, But Presented To Prove The Aforementioned Point:
2:51 This is just ridiculous.
This is the worst NYU midterm film project ever turned in.
2:56 This may be one of the few songs whose videos I wish that I’d never seen. The song isn’t ruined, but this isn’t too far from being waterboarded with synth and a laser pointer.
3:05 Through all of this, I still think she’s a nice lady.
She seems like the kind of lady who had a lot of fun in the ’80s, and then 10 years later turned into a ’90s TV mom.
DID YOU DYE YOUR HAIR BROWN AND MARRY TIM ALLEN?
3:16 Why not?
3:29 YES, SOMEONE TO BLAME.
SHAME ON YOU, RETRO BOOGIE DANCE PARTY.
3:37 Despite all the horrible things, without this video, I never would have learned this song’s real name. For that, and only that, I thank it for existing. Nothing more.