Listening Party

(CONTENT WARNING)

Besides the undiscovered crime scene, it’s a peaceful day in the suburbs.

In one of the houses, in one of the bedrooms, a radio is playing. The bed’s once-white sheets, the once-white walls, the shattered glass scattered across the ground. Something has happened. The peace has been disturbed and no one knows it. Yet the radio still plays. The parents are gone. One still at work. One commuting home. The other one is missing.

Blood is splattered everywhere. Across the ceiling, along the walls, everywhere. The posters of athletes, the unread books, everything. It’s the room of a sixteen year old boy. The radio continues to play as loud as before, unaware that anything has happened.

Sitting on the bed is a creature. An ugly, deformed, humanish looking creature. A creature that breathes heavily. A creature so grotesque only the word “monster” will do. Patchy, long hair that springs off its skin. Long legs, bony elbows. Naked as a newborn. The monster has the face of a bat; the upturned nose, the pointy ears, and eyes that dart in different directions.

The naked creature stands amidst the splatter, soaked in the victim’s viscera. Its pale skin is covered by long, twisty brown hairs; wild patches of little wires. Its lanky legs and scrawny knees are deceiving; the striating muscles and connecting tendons are as strong as bridge cables. Its arms dangle down to its calves. The claws practically scrape the ground. Hunching over, letting its sharp vertebrae bulge through its back. So far, it’s only an exaggerated figure of a human—then comes the head.

Pointy ears, upturned nose, jagged teeth, eyes half-popped out, this monster has the face of a bat. It pants, heavily, as if out of breath. But this bat-faced hellspawn has the engine to fuel two trucks. The supernatural beast has an unholy strength and frightening speed. No normal human stands a chance. The monster had no chance at controlling itself, and no choice in the matter.

The monster had to do it. Adam Levine told it to.

Baby I’m preying on you tonight
Hunt you down eat you alive

You might say it wasn’t even the monster’s fault.

Just like animals, animals,

The mess of blood and broken glass doesn’t mean anything to the monster. The lyrics, though, do mean something. Something beyond what a word can normally convey.

I can smell your scent for miles.

The monster’s nose twitches. It can smell every human in the neighborhood. Everyone in a five-mile vicinity. Moreover, the lyrics to “Animals” were taking over the monster’s mind.

Yeah you can start over you can run free
You can find another fish in the sea

Although the monster lacks the intellectual capacity to truly understand, the music was quietly changing it. The song was becoming its personality. Its values. Its ideology.

You can pretend it’s meant to be
But you can’t stay away from me

Blood drips down its teeth, though the monster isn’t sure where from. It wonders when the room was redesigned red.

The monster looks to the radio, still playing as if nothing had happened. The monster and the radio have a similar lack of understanding. Those absent eyes, still darting in different directions, suggest a thoughtless entity. Yet the bat-faced monster looks at the radio. It pokes it with a claw. The monster does not know its own strength, either, and accidentally caves in the top of the radio. One lasting press and the plastic shattered before it. The music stopped. The monster’s brow furrows. It tries to inspect the radio, looking around for the sound. It checks under the bed. But it cannot find the music anywhere.

The monster does, however, notice a blood-soaked object on the ground. The monster, now knowing to be gentle, picks up the object. It inspects the small white square, to which a white wire is connected. The wire forks in two, and on the ends are two pellets that appear to vibrate.

The monster is holding an iPod touch. A fifth generation, 8GB, iPod touch. It’s fairly new, having come out just last year. The earbuds, though stained by blood and drool, still manage to run a pop music playlist.

It does not know any of that, but the monster’s hearing is sharp. A similar rhythmic tone emanates from the pellet-endings of this strange new device. The monster does not recognize the songs, or understand the concept of music, but still, the sounds speak to it. It carries the weight of something important; not as important as food, but important. Inessential like sugar, yet alluring to the point of hunger. The bat-faced monster puts the pellets in its ear. The volume shocks its sensitive ears. It can’t hear anything else. For once the monster is deaf to the constant clamor of the outside world.

So the monster sits upon the damp bed, crosses its legs, and listens to whatever’s next in the playlist. With every pop song that passes through the bat-ears, the monster starts to pick up on running themes. None more so than this clearly coveted, strange thing called “love.” The monster sets out to find whatever that is.

*******

It’s a beautiful day outside. Birds are chirping, flowers are blooming. The sun is shining, and every green lawn is cut to perfection. The bat-faced monster trots down the middle of the suburban street.

With every step, slobber drips out of its mouth and onto the hot cement road. Its head twitches around like a bird. No one’s around. A butterfly flies past its head. The monster waves a claw at it, trying to catch it, but it evades its grasp. The bat-faced monster swings and swings but the butterfly flies just enough above it to escape. As the monster droops its head, it notices something in one of the houses.

Then it sees her. Through the window it sees a girl. And then another song starts playing.

Give me your, give me your, give me your attention baby

The monster waves at her. She does not notice it. It waves harder, trying to catch her attention. She’s looking down at her phone. Just like with the butterfly, the bat-faced monster cannot seem to catch anything.

You’re wonderful, flawless, ooh, you’re a sexy lady
But you walk around here like you wanna be someone else

The girl walks out of her room and out of view of the monster. Its gangly arms hang to its side. Its head tilts to the left.

I know that you don’t know it, but you’re fine, so fine

The bat-faced monster’s heart thumps so loud it can barely hear the music.

Oh, girl I’m gonna show you when you’re mine, oh mine

It decides it must have her.

The girl is sixteen years old. She’s enjoying the first week of summer. She walks into the living room and sits on the couch. The weather is perfect. Perfect for a date. Unfortunately, her boyfriend has not responded to her texts yet.

KKKSSSSSHHHHH

Glass shatters everywhere. The girl shrieks as a shadow appears above her. A grotesque, hairy, wiry, naked, bat-faced hellspawn has just barged right through her door. The monster, however, cannot hear anything besides the chorus.

Treasure! that is what you are
Honey, you’re my golden star

She’s even more beautiful up-close, it thinks. The feelings are not reciprocal. She dashes away.

The bat-faced monster stands there, dumbfounded. The girl runs to her room and slams the door shut. She can’t believe what she’s seeing. She tries to convince herself it’s a nightmare, but none have ever been so vivid. Besides, this was something she could never and would never imagine.

The bat-faced monster has no concept of subtlety (or a door). Despite her shrieks, the monster slowly approaches her. She backs up into the corner of the room and slides down the wall. The monster’s drool splatters on the floor. Its eyes stare in different directions. Curled up into a ball, the girl is convinced she is going to die. Now she only wonders how much it’s going to hurt.

The monster slowly extends a claw towards her. Frozen by fear, the girl doesn’t even move. Only a teardrop slides down her cheek. The monster gently touches the edges of her mouth and pushes them up into a smile.

Pretty girl, pretty girl, pretty girl, you should be smiling.

He wipes her tears.

A girl like you should never look so blue.

Then the bat-faced monster smiles. An awkward, wide, toothy, yellow smile.

The girl’s breathing shudders. She is still certain of her imminent death, but is bewildered. For once in the last half-minute, there is a brief silence. Her eyebrows furrow for a second. From this distance—despite the monster’s heavy breathing—she can just make out the familiar sound of a song. The girl hadn’t noticed it until now, but she finally sees the iPod dangling around its chest.

You are my treasure,
You are my treasure,

The monster offers her its hand. The girl doesn’t dare move.

I know you can make my wish come true

The monster grunts, violently re-offering its hand. She flinches. The girl realizes she has no choice and extends a shaking hand.

If you let me treasure you

Her delicate hand meets the bat-faced monster’s bony metacarpals. Her smooth skin meets its clammy, clawed mitts. The monster squeezes hard enough to pull her to her feet, but not enough to crumple it like paper. As it leads the girl out of her partially destroyed house, she hears the muffled song continue to play. The girl begins to understand her role in all this. It is perfect weather for a date, isn’t it?

*******

The monster and the girl walk down the street, outside of the suburbs. Although the monster’s grip is gentle, she can sense its strength. She prays that it will not rip her arm out of the socket.

The monster, meanwhile, seems overcome by glee.

I want your ugly, I want your disease

The bat-faced monster lifts its chin at the words.

I want your drama, the touch of your hand

The monster looks down at her hand, engulfed by his. Check.

I want your horror, I want your design

Its eyes gleam in the sun, filled with hope.

I want your psycho

The monster’s idea of love was being molded like clay. This “love” he’s chasing after might be difficult, especially given his obvious physical differences and the girl’s initial reaction. However, if these songs had taught it anything, it’s that this “love” thing is confusing. There’s no one way to do it. So, even if the girl is still upset right now, maybe things would eventually work out.

You and me could write a bad romance

The girl, tears streaming down her face, was actively searching for any chance at help. She couldn’t believe her luck; not just that this aberration had happened to break into specifically her house and specifically kidnapped her, but that no one was around to help. She did not see anyone as they walked down her home street. Now, as she saw cars drive by, she thought that surely they would notice her. But no one did.

What if she did call for help, though? What then? What could anyone do about a monster like this? She couldn’t think too far ahead. Her fear stifles any rational thought. More than anything, she doesn’t want to die. And it only seemed like a matter of time before the bat-faced monster would shatter her just like the window.

*******

Then the monster takes the girl around the corner. She has no idea where she’s being taken. The monster walks her into a part of town she hasn’t been to. There’s a run-down thrift shop that’s closed today. The monster lets out an affirmative grunt. The girl looks up at her captor, baffled. What does a monster want with a thrift shop?

What the girl does not know is what song the monster is listening to. She could not hear the saxophones or the what what, what what’s. The monster is about to go pop some tags.

KSSSH. The monster crashes through the glass and starts thrifting.

About ten minutes later, a man walks down the same corner. He’s in his thirties, has a tucked-in plaid shirt, specs, and a suitcase that was on sale. He was just heading back to his car when he saw the broken glass. The man takes a wide angle just to walk around the debris. As he does, he sees her. The girl is standing near a rack of clothes, facing the other direction. She’s got on an oversized fur coat. The man squints at her. She’s shaking. Right before he calls out to her, he sees a large figure. A figure maybe seven feet tall, wearing a leopard print coat.

Dressed in all pink ‘cept my gator shoes, those are green
Draped in leopard mink, girl standing next to me

The man isn’t sure what to make of it. But he can still see her shaking. The figure seems busy, rummaging through clothes. So he does a mix between a whisper and a yell:

“Hey!”

The girl whips her head around. She’s got tears streaming down her face. The man was about to ask her if she was alright, but given this he’s moving to step two.

“Come with me, you’ll be safe.” Perhaps in any other situation, she would have hesitated more to leave with a stranger. What made her pause for a moment was if the monster would notice. She looked over her shoulder at the monster.

Velour jumpsuit and some house slippers

The monster didn’t know what a velour jumpsuit was only a second ago. Only within the rhythm do the answers reveal themselves. Only through Macklemore does the world make sense.

Dookie-brown leather jacket that I found diggin’

The monster rips all the items off the rack, and tries to fit its oversized feet into the largest slippers it can find. The songs can change it, but they can’t change the size of the clothes.

The girl decides to make a break for it. This is the first time in the past hour that the monster hasn’t looked at her for over a minute. She may not have a better chance than this.
Quietly, she tiptoes between the sharp shards of glass. The man meets her just outside the window and outstretches his hand. The girl keeps looking over her shoulder at the monster, continuing to stuff itself into new clothes. The girl deftly steps through the window pane and out onto the street. The man grabs her hand and leads her away.

“Are you okay? Is he—”
“We need to go. We need to go now,” she repeats. The man does not hesitate as he leads her around the corner and out of sight. Once he’s out of sight, he reaches for his phone.

“What are you doing?!” she whispers, panicking.
“Calling the police,” he replies, dialing the number as they hurry down the sidewalk.
“Wha—what are they going to do!?” The man looks at her, perplexed. When he looks up ahead he sees something standing before them.

The monster appears. Under a leopard-print blanket it wears as a coat, the monster has on a now ripped pink jumpsuit, a plaid shirt, a brown jacket, zebra pajama pants, and white bunny slippers.

Until now, the man hadn’t had a look at its face. Underneath that raccoon hat and neon green party glasses is a drooling, toothy, inhuman aspect.

“Sir,” the man gulps. “How do you know this…young lady?” he turns to the girl. He does not yet know that he cannot talk his way out. The girl does know that they can’t talk their way out of it. The monster just stands there. The man looks down at the cement for answers. He does not know he is at the mercy of an early 2010’s pop playlist.

“Sir?” asks the man. “Can you hear me?” The monster can hear muffled tones of a voice. The earbuds are dug too deep into its ears. The monster wouldn’t be able to understand him, anyway. Then the next song plays.

Everybody get up

“Sir?” he raises his voice.

Hey, hey, hey, hey

“I n-need to know what’s going on here…” Though he stutters, the man stands his ground.

If you can’t hear what I’m tryna say

The monster steps toward the girl. The man steps in between. The monster pauses for a moment. The man and the girl stand there, breathless. The man isn’t sure how long his bravery will last him, looking up at the size of his foe. The monster, similarly, can’t believe what he’s seeing.

Maybe I’m going deaf,
Maybe I’m going blind,

The music gets quiet. The monster’s eyes dim. It starts to hyperventilate.

Maybe I’m out of my mind

The monster lets out a horrifying shriek. The man yells “RUN!!” but the girl is already gone. They both run across the street and head towards the forest. The monster, partly blinded by a fog, watches them run off.

Okay, now he was close
Tried to domesticate you

The monster’s vision begins to return. The picture becomes clear to it.

But you’re an animal
Baby, it’s in your nature

The monster looks at the girl. What it had hoped for earlier had been confirmed to it now. Despite their differences, the monster believes beyond a shadow of a doubt that she is its kind. That she is not compatible with the world in the same way it is.

Just let me liberate you

The monster looks at the man, who runs after her.

You don’t need no takers
That man is not your maker

The monster seethes with rage. Ripping the fabric of his stolen clothes, the monster takes off like a bullet. The bat-faced demon bounds ahead, each stride equalling ten of theirs. It catches up to them in no time.

And that’s why I’m gon’ take a good girl

Careening ahead, the monster knocks the man to the ground and grabs the girl in one fell swoop. The man lies motionless on the ground. The monster drags her away by the hand.

“Let go! Please just let me go!” she begs. The floodgates open; she cannot control the sobbing.

“Please! I just wanna go home…” Not a second had gone by without her wondering if the monster might strike. Now, she doesn’t care if it lashes out anymore. She thinks there’s no point in prolonging her life if it’s just to suffer another hour. But her tears mean nothing to it. The monster has no concept of sadness or happiness, only what the song offers next.

I know you want it

The girl wants it.

I know you want it

The song says so.

I know you want it

It doesn’t matter if she protests or screams or cries. The monster has no concept of “no.” The girl, weeping, eventually stops begging and walks along with the monster.

I hate these blurred lines

The monster is irritated by his green party shades. It takes them off and tosses them over his shoulder. It lands right next to the man’s phone, which is still on.

“911 what is your emergency… hello? … hello?”

*******

Night falls. The monster and the girl show up outside a club.

There’s only one streetlight in this back alley. The bouncer looks to his left. He squints. He sees a seven foot pimp with a mink coat, ripped pink jumpsuit, and bunny shoes. Then he looks down at the girl. She looks way younger than twenty-one.

“Hey, you,” he asks her. “Let me see your ID.”

The monster growls, having not been let inside instantaneously. No one heard the splat over the music.

A moment later, the monster and the girl walk through the door. The club. Painted by pink and blue lights are a sea of jumping bodies, tightly packed together. He’d only heard about it through the songs, but the monster managed to find it anyway.

The colors, the music—although the volume is a bit too high for his liking. The girl, exhausted by fear, wishes she could cry for help. Not only would no one hear her, but it might be worse if they did. That poor shopkeep died trying to protect her, what chance did anyone else have?
Meanwhile, the monster’s eyes sparkle. This is exactly what it wanted. And for the first time in the last several hours, it took out the earbuds. The monster wanders into the crowd.

Hands up

The monster puts his claws up, almost by instinct. His nails nearly scratch the ceiling.

Yeah, suddenly we got our hands up

The monster thinks if everyone else is doing it, it must be right.

No control of my body

The monster lets loose.

In doing so, the monster lets go of the girl’s hand. She almost can’t believe it. She refuses to let this chance go to waste.

Gon’ set the roof on fire
Gonna burn this motherfucker down

The monster’s roar turns into a gust of fire breath. It torches the top of the venue, burning the scaffolding above. A silence only broken by the continuing music.

So dance, dance, dance like it’s the last, last, last night of your life.

The club erupts into a cacophony of screams. The jumping turns into running. The running turns into either falling or stomping on the fallen. A stampede of stumbling drunks all head for the same door.

The monster stops breathing fire. Everyone’s running away and it doesn’t know why. The bat-faced monster was just following along to the song. So were they, but now they’re not. The monster feels betrayed. They all betrayed it. Then Pitbull’s verse plays.

Hear no evil,

The music masks the scraping of claws and the tearing of flesh.

speak no evil,

The roars are replaced with wild swings. Sharp shrieks are silenced by sharper nails.

I see no evil

The strobelights go out, having been melted like cheese by the fire. The blood is hidden by the darkness. She crawls around, unable to see anything, until she sees another door. The moon’s shine is one shade lighter than the pitch black club. She scampers towards it. The girl believes she can escape. But it can still smell her scent.

She don’t wrestle but I got her in a headlock

The monster lunges ahead through a crowd of scattering bodies and swoops up the girl. With frightening speed it wraps and folds its arm around her neck. The girl is once more ensnared in his trap.

Mami on fire, pssh, red hot

She doesn’t even have enough time to scream or cry. The monster charges up another breath. It doesn’t understand what obeying the music means here. What “burning” or “dying” is.

Then the music cuts. The monster closes its jaw. It pauses to look around. It releases the girl. It searches the room as if the music itself had left the room. The only beat left is a collection of impacts from the falling scaffolding. The girl’s sobbing and the monster’s panting is interrupted by a new sound: a siren. The monster follows the new sound outside.

The lights shine on the monster. Hissing, it holds its hand over its eyes.

“Freeze!” says the cop over the megaphone. They have the disgusting creature surrounded. There’s about six police cars and eight officers aiming. Only the darkness shrouds their fear. They can see the monster, all seven feet of bone and hair. But it can’t see them—only the blurs of blue and red lights.

“Put your hands in the air!” orders the officer, unsure if it will understand his language or if those claws really count as hands. The monster does not obey. It lowers its hands from its bat-face, and adjusts quickly to the blinding lights.

The cop’s words won’t go through—they have no rhythm. Neither party has any chance of understanding each other. The monster seems irritated, not just by the light, but by the blaring sirens. It hates them. It can barely hear its music over their wailing.

“Stand down! Or we will shoot!” The police struggle to hold their nerve. A breathless moment passes. Enough time for the next song to play. If they act fast, if the officer doesn’t keep his word, it’s possible they could kill it. But now it’s too late. The guitar plucks have already started.

You shout it out, but I can’t hear a word you say

“Last chance! Hands. In.The air.” Not even this cop’s conviction can save him now. Nor his compatriots.

I’m talking loud, not saying much

The monster reaches for its iPod. BANG! One of the eight pulls the trigger and shoots the monster in the chest. BANG! Another shot follows. The rest of the guns go off. BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

I’m bulletproof
Fire away, fire away

In a disgusting, twisted turn of fate, the playlist delivers in the monster’s first moment of need. The monster’s pale, wrinkly skin and patchy hairs are no more. Its jumpsuit rips open. Its body is coated in chrome.

I am titanium

Blocking bullets with its hand, the monster covers the iPod. The monster turns up the volume and rushes ahead.

The girl hears the gunshots ring outside the club. Then, the crunching of metal, and the screams of men. Little by little, the bangs become less and less frequent. For a moment, she gets a long-forgotten feeling: hope. She wanders to the door and peeks outside. There’s a huge fire. The monster is nowhere to be seen. No one else is there.

As she looks a little closer, the picture becomes clear. The police cars have been crunched up like paper. There’s bodies on the ground. And from within the fire is an emerging shadow.

Clank, clank, clank. The ground crumbles and cracks under its footsteps. The bat-faced monster approaches the girl. Its thrifted clothes are gone, replaced with metallic skin. Filled with despair, she freezes up. She knows now that running won’t save her. As it looms over her, the girl watches her reflection wriggling across the monster’s stomach.

The monster offers her its hand. It’s dripping with blood.

The girl, her fear reserves exhausted, notices that the earbuds are still in. After all this time, the monster managed to protect it. Besides the crackling fire, there is a rare silence. A silence that allows her to hear the music playing. It’s Titanium by Sia. She looks back at her silvery reflection. The puzzle pieces begin to connect in her mind.

The girl gently offers up her own hand. The monster rears its head in shock and delight. For once she isn’t repulsed by the seven-foot sasquatch. Excitedly, the monster takes her hand. Time holds still for it. Then she steps toward it.

The girl hugs the monster.

Even through the metal it feels her soft skin. Its bulging eyes nearly pop out of its head. Her other arm wraps around its torso and left arm. She leans her head up against its hip. The monster wonders if this is what it thinks it is.

Meanwhile, the girl locks eyes with the iPod touch. Hiding under her head, she carefully moves her right arm into position. She taps at the screen of the iPod. The screen lights up. The current song appears at the bottom. She skips through the song until she finds the right one.

The monster hears one song start, then cut to the next. The monster believes it’s experiencing it. It believes this feeling is what those rhythmic voices were talking about. It’s disorienting, it’s jolting—it turns one into a glitching machine. So it stands there while she skips songs one after another. Then she finds it.

Plucks of a sweet piano play alongside tones of an acoustic guitar. The monster wonders if it’s dreaming. A soft voice sings.

Well you only need the light when it’s burning low

The monster backs up for a second. The girl lets go of the hug, backing away from it like a lab experiment. The monster looks baffled. This isn’t like the other songs.

Only miss the sun when it starts snow

This one isn’t upbeat. It’s slow, it’s tender. Yet it can’t stop listening to it.

Only know you love her when you let her go.

In an ironic twist, now it’s the bat-faced monster who looks horrified. It can’t believe what it’s hearing. Still, it holds onto her hand.

Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low
Only hate the road when you’re missing home

The monster furrows its brow. It appears hurt. Mortally wounded. It clutches its chest. The song pierces past the titanium hide. All the other songs had urged it to take. Yet only this song describes it so directly, so clearly:

Only know you love her when you let her go.

The girl is cautiously optimistic. If she were to run now, that might aggravate the monster. But little by little, with every strum of the violin, her theory seems to hold up.

At last, the monster finds what it’s looking for—but at a cost. The monster looks down at its hand holding hers. It knows what it must do.

The monster lets go of her hand.

The girl continues to hold her breath. She can’t be certain yet. She takes a small step back, eyes still on it. The monster doesn’t move. Slowly, she backs away. The monster lets her. The girl turns around, but keeps her eyes on the monster just to be safe. Only when she’s about thirty yards away does she finally look away.

The monster thinks she’s looking back, longingly. When she turns, the monster’s shoulders shrink. This is what it means to love.

The girl walks off into the night, finally free. Finally free of that foul, murderous creature. Finally, she can breathe again. She knows the memory of this experience will follow her for life, but at least now she gets to live the rest of it. Traumatized but determined, she walks home. Despite all the chaos, violence, and insanity, her mind goes back to the songs she skipped through. They seemed familiar.

The monster watches her leave for as long as it can. But suddenly it becomes too much. The monster gallops towards a gate and then into the forest hillside nearby. The bat-faced monster sits alone where no one can see it.

Staring at the bottom of your glass

He pulls out the iPod. The screen darkens. The monster sees its reflection. Its bulging eyes. Its bat ears.

Hoping one day you’ll make a dream last
But dreams come slow and they go so fast

The monster had dreamed for a little while, but now it sees why that was never going to last.

You’ll see her when you close your eyes

The monster shuts its eyes, trying to envision her. A few minutes away feels like an eternity.

Maybe one day you’ll understand why

But not today. Today, the monster hates this awful thing they call “love.” A thing it can find but can’t have.

Everything you touch surely dies,

It looks down at its titanium hands, still sticky with blood. The monster finally realizes that it’s a monster.

The monster waits for the next song. It hopes for something different. Something to cure its heartache. But then the same song plays. The monster glances down at the iPod. It tries to press buttons, but nothing happens. Pause, nothing. Skip, nothing. The iPod won’t respond to the monster’s metallic touch. It doesn’t like the song, but the bat-faced monster can’t bear to break the iPod. It can’t bear to go without any music at all.

What the monster doesn’t know is that the girl looped the playlist. Now, “Let Her Go” by Passenger will play over and over until the battery dies.

The monster cries quicksilver. A mercurial moment in an otherwise simple story.

by Anthony Sharkey

Levine, Adam, Ammar Malik, Benny Blanco, and Shellback. “Animals.” Performed by Maroon 5, V, Interscope Records, 2014.
Mars, Bruno, Philip Lawrence, Ari Levine, Phredley Brown, Christopher Steven Brody, Mark Ronson, and Jeff Bhasker. “Treasure.” Performed by Bruno Mars, Unorthodox Jukebox, Atlantic Records, 2012.
Germanotta, Stefani (Lady Gaga), and Nadir Khayat (RedOne). “Bad Romance.” Performed by Lady Gaga, The Fame Monster, Interscope Records, 2009.
Haggerty, Ben (Macklemore), and Ryan Lewis. “Thrift Shop.” Performed by Macklemore & Ryan Lewis, featuring Wanz, The Heist, Macklemore LLC, 2012.
Thicke, Robin, Pharrell Williams, and Clifford Harris Jr. (T.I.). “Blurred Lines.” Performed by Robin Thicke, featuring T.I. and Pharrell Williams, Blurred Lines, Star Trak/Interscope Records, 2013.
Raymond, Usher, William Adams (will.i.am), and Jimmy Joker. “DJ Got Us Fallin’ in Love.” Performed by Usher, featuring Pitbull, Versus, LaFace Records, 2010.
Guetta, David, Giorgio Tuinfort, Sia Furler, and Nick van de Wall (Afrojack). “Titanium.” Performed by David Guetta, featuring Sia, Nothing but the Beat, Virgin Records, 2011.
Rosenberg, Mike. “Let Her Go.” Performed by Passenger, All the Little Lights, Nettwerk Records, 2012.