Where am I running to, exactly?

Since you're being insistent, I'll tell you why I got beef with Ludacris' ubiquituous "Runaway Love" (ft. Mary J. Blige, doncha know). In case the rock you live under doesn't get radio reception, it's a ditty about little Lisa, Nicole, Stacey and Erika who are all prepubescent and being similarly abused. The chorus exhorts them to "runaway, love" convincingly, until the end, when it inconsistently tells them "don't you keep runnin' away." Oh, ok. Two lines later: "I'll run away with you." Well, what's it gonna be?!?



But it's not the sloppy lyrics that annoy me. And it's not the sob stories. Pop has an illustrious history of mining generic misery: TLC's "Waterfalls," Everlast's "What It's Like," Ben Folds' "Brick" and Aerosmith's "Janie's Got a Gun" all come to mind. I'm down with sentimentality.

It's not how half-baked the stories are. One little girl is abused by alcoholic adult, the other by drug-addicted adult, (see how he switched that there?) I know Luda can tell very specific stories about shit that went down at the club on Saturday night, so why can't he be bothered to make these girls come to life in any way? It's like he knows of the existence of little girls by way of the accountant who told him to fling them a single. Even the girl's names feel fake: Little STACEY got caught in a drive-by? Are you positive it wasn't little Shaniqua?

No, what gets to me is the song's "solution" to the little girls' problems. It strikes me as downright evil. Read it below, and imagine Ludacris' voice wavering between concern and pick-up:

"Yeah, I can only imagine what you're going through, ladies/Sometimes I feel like running away myself/ So do me a favor right now and close your eyes/And picture us running away together and/When we come back everything is gonna be OK."

In other words: "Buy my record, little girl. You'll be abused AND hurtin' $15.95."

Not to sound like a coot, but these "ladies" are 9 years old: should they be picturing themselves running with Ludacris anywhere? I'm all for the curative powers of pop, but shouldn't they be listening to something more salubrious? Learning how to bringsexyback to the playground?

Come on, Luda, at least give them a hotline or something.