Monday, November 5th, 2018

Lukas Graham – Love Someone

After three songs covered here, their combined score has now reached [4.09]…


Will Rivitz: The epsilon-delta definition of a limit is, in layman’s terms, generally as follows: if one plugs a number x into a function, that function’s limit as x approaches some other number a is L if, no matter what arbitrarily small number ε you can come up with, you can find some x near a such that x plugged into the function is within ε of L. This is somewhat confusing, so a non-math example to illustrate: Let x be a band, and let the a that x approaches be Lukas Graham (for notation’s sake, we’ll call it the Graham limit). We find that the limit L of the function f(x), as x approaches a, is in fact negative infinity. To understand why this is, consider any arbitrary ε, and we find that no matter how low f(ε), the Graham limit allows for a lower f(x). For example, if we set ε fairly low, at, say, Five For Fighting, we find that a lower f(x) is possible. If we set ε even lower, at, for example, Meghan Trainor, we find that a lower f(x) is still achievable. In this sense, “Love Someone” is an effectively didactic example, as it uses an almost unimaginably low ε — Train, in this case — and demonstrates that the Graham limit is lower still. Math is wonderful, isn’t it?

Andy Hutchins: The exchange rate on Lukas Graham members to Jason Mraz is 3:1, in case you have interest in playing what I’m sure is the booming market for sub-Sheeran wedding dreck. (Play a song that includes the sniffing refrain “You’ve probably never loved someone like I do” at your wedding at your own peril.)

Julian Axelrod: As long as dads are having first dances at their second weddings, Lukas Graham will have a career.

Alfred Soto: Well, isn’t he the hateful little shit: she should learn to love like he does. It’s not Graham Cracker’s first time stepping on a rake. Ed Sheeran is Otis Redding. 

Katherine St Asaph: Justin Bieber’s “Love Yourself” is not improved by 50,000 times more singing.

Jonathan Bradley: Imagine I had just fallen head-over-heels for someone. You know, right in the mushy marshes of new affection. A time in which I had been so disarmed by this new presence in my life that I grasped for sincerity and earnestness to account for it; a time when hearing such sentiments drawn with careless and vague strokes would make them seem nonetheless truthful and important. Even at such a time, I think that I would find Lukas Forchhammer’s quivering soul tenor to be impossibly, intolerably weedy.

Nicholas Donohoue: I could revert to my hate mindset and be a pedantic, over-intensive jerk, but the only thing that needs said is Lukas Graham should refrain from long, high notes.

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Jason Mraz-type schlock that’s too boring to hate passionately. Since the music’s too boilerplate, the lyrics come through with some solipsistic narcissism. Terrible, but easy to laugh at, which makes it a little less terrible.

Taylor Alatorre: All three of Lukas Graham’s self-titled albums feature the same painting of a nude woman on their cover but with a different color palette, like a lazier, hornier version of Weezer. The painting, entitled Damen med flaskerne (Lady with the Bottles), is Lars Helweg’s depiction of Swedish-Italian actress Anita Ekberg, best known for her starring role in La Dolce Vita. Painted in 1992 but based on a 1956 Playboy photograph, it’s become a minor cultural touchstone in Denmark; the hard rock band September also used the artwork for their 1995 album Many a Little. The original resides in Copenhagen’s Cafe Wilder, which Lukas Graham’s lead singer often visited as a child. He says the album art is intended as a tribute to his childhood, as well as a representation of the band’s music: “naked and beautiful.” Each of these facts is more interesting than anything found in this song, which devalues love by implying that yours isn’t genuine unless you can squeeze a saccharine pseudo-devotional out of it.

Alex Clifton: Is this the worst song Lukas Graham have ever recorded? No. That’s either “7 Years,” “Strip No More,” or their newest single, which is an anti-suicide ballad (?) that involves the line “my stage show can light up the clouds,” because somehow it has to have the self-aggrandizing turn that most Lukas Graham songs have. It depends on the day which song I hate more. But “Love Someone” is insipid and boring and clichéd and bad. It’s like if the sappiest Jason Mraz song (also incidentally named “Love Someone”) had a baby with Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect” and a guy with less charisma than Pat Monahan tried to reassure you his Hefty bag of love is real. It’s meaningless. It’s supposed to be tender and kind but I can’t get past the fact that this is the guy who once sang “HOW COME YOU DON’T STRIP NO MOOOOOOOOORE” so goddamn enthusiastically. Moreover, this song made me realize why I specifically hate Lukas Graham: they commit the sin of believing they’re the only people in the world who have ever experienced feelings. “You’ll probably never love someone like I do,” Lukas Forchhammer sings, and in that moment I know he believes every word he says. It’s the same story they’ve told with every other song: my emotion is the strongest and the worst and the most bad and the most valid, and you’ll never understand. Lukas Graham have long left a bad taste in my mouth and this song makes me hate them more, to the point where it’s a personal insult that Lukas Graham keeps releasing music. If they really loved someone other than themselves, they’d leave us alone.

Reader average: [9.5] (2 votes)

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12 Responses to “Lukas Graham – Love Someone”

  1. this is one of the lowest scores i’ve ever seen, and it’s still higher than i expected

  2. [HUGE pedant alert] Will, you come so close to writing something coherent but don’t quite nail the details.

    What you’re trying to translate into math is: For any terrible band you can think of, there’s a Lukas Graham song that’s worse than it.

    So really, what you’re ranging over are possible Lukas Graham songs (so x-values should be Lukas Graham songs), and you’re considering the quality of the song (so the function f(x) is the quality of a given Lukas Graham song — maybe computed by taking the log of TSJ score so that 0.0 corresponds to negative infinity)

    You’re not showing that the limit at any particular song is negative infinity, you’re just saying this function is unbounded from below. You show this by saying that for any extremely low quality-value (represented by the quality of a different song), there’s an x (a Lukas Graham song) with a lower f(x)

    Sorry, I’m literally about to TA my freshman calculus class in 5 minutes and it’s rare that these worlds collide lol

  3. I haven’t taken calc since sophomore year of college but I think you’re right! did my research to try to nail down whatever details I could but your definition does seem a lil more watertight

  4. don’t make me write out the rigorous proof of this, I’ll actually do it

    but also surely we define x as the quality of music, and f(x) as the function of the quality of music when lukas graham makes it

  5. so are you saying we’re discussing the negative f(x) of Lukas Graham’s music

  6. trying to stop myself from typing “who gives two f(x) about lukas graham” but clearly failed

  7. I’m just amused that this scored more than twice as high as “Strip No More” and it’s still tied for the 10th lowest score in Jukebox history. That’s as much math as I’m willing to do for Lukas Graham

  8. The amount of math people in TSJ warms my cruel, dead heart.

  9. (in my VERY slight defense this actually counts as studying for me)

    to show that the limit, L, of the quality of Lukas Graham recording a song (which we call x) as the quality of that song approaches [0] is also [0], we must show that for every single (e) whose quality is greater than [0], there is a corresponding single with quality (d), such that:

    if [0] < |x – [0]| < d, then |f(x) – L| < e.

    we’re looking for L to go to [0], we obviously know subtracting [0] is redundant. also, we have never given a song a [0.00] rating before, so we can assume e and d are both greater than [0]. (we can also assume this because otherwise the proof doesn't work. math is great!) so we can streamline:

    if [0] < x < d, then f(x) < e.

    now, observe that any song becomes worse if its chorus is swapped out with Lukas Graham singing "how come you don't strip no more." no matter what song you pick, its score will be closer to [0] via this method. in other words:

    "Strip No More" Chorus(e) < e.

    it also follows that if you can come up with a song worse than that, then that song is clearly also worse than your original single. in other words:

    if x1 < "Strip No More" Chorus(e), then x1 < e.

    we also observe that no matter what song has its chorus replaced with "Strip No More," it'll still be better than doing the same to a worse initial song. like how "Call Me Maybe" with the "Strip No More" chorus is still a better song than "Accidental Racist" with the "Strip No More" chorus. so:

    if x < e then "Strip No More" Chorus(x) < "Strip No More" Chorus(e).

    finally, observe that if an entire song was turned over to Lukas Graham, then its resulting score will be worse than if that song just had "Strip No More" pasted in. in other words:

    f(x) < "Strip No More" Chorus(x). So, we choose d as "Strip No More" Chorus(e). If [0] < x < "Strip No More" Chorus(e), this implies: Strip No More" Chorus(x) < "Strip No More" Chorus(e) implies "Strip No More" Chorus(x) < e implies f(x) < "Strip No More" Chorus(x) implies f(x) < e. QED. I'm very sorry to any of my professors if they ever read this.

  10. conversations like this are why it’s a sin and a shame the da capo series is no longer around to properly enshrine us

  11. @john Cosine.

    (Had to.)

  12. (before kevin or anyone else asks I know you technically are not supposed to include the first part in the proof but I felt like I had to explain the workings of lukas graham algebra properly first)

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