Tim Jonze insists Daft Punk's ubiquitous hit is musically, lyrically and spiritually bereft, and that's why he can't stand it – or you, for liking it



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I hate the best song of 2013. I hate all the Guardian critics who voted for it in our critics list of the best songs of 2013. And I hate you, too. Because you almost certainly love Daft Punk's Get Lucky, a realisation I've come to based on the fact that every single person on earth seems to like Get Lucky apart from me.

I'm pleased I've got this fact – that I hate Get Lucky, all of my colleagues and you – off my chest. I'm also pleased to report a further fact that I've established over the last six months of listening to Get Lucky and that is this: I am definitely right, and you are definitely wrong. Daft Punk's Get Lucky is rubbish.

Musically, lyrically and spiritually – Get Lucky is just horrible. Its manufactured joy comes from a cold, barren place. It's a song for 12.30am in a Square Mile wine bar, stock traders with ties around their coke-sweated heads rubbing themselves up uninvited against the new girl. It's a pink-Stetsoned hen party stampeding over your heart. It's the exact moment in Peep Show when Toploader's Dancing in the Moonlight comes on at a work Christmas party and Sophie shrieks: "I love this song!"

What makes it even worse is that the signs were so promising. When Daft Punk teased Get Lucky with a loop of Nile Rodger's disco riff, it sounded like it would be a triumphant return to the band's Discovery-era peak. Instead, that riff was the only good thing about it. What else was there to the song? Pharrell adding a half-arsed melody about hanging around looking for a shag?

Robin Thicke's Blurred Lines spent most of 2013 being castigated for its lyrical content as if it was basically Exhorder's Anal Lust. Blurred Lines was indeed unsavoury but Get Lucky was hardly a shining example in the world of sexual politics. "She's up all night 'til the sun/ I'm up all night to get some," sings Pharrell, "She's up all night for good fun/ I'm up all night to get lucky"

It's not scandalous. I don't expect the University of Derby's student union to impose a ban (other than for it being completely rubbish). But it is a bit grim and desperate. The implication is pretty obvious: that the longer "she" parties, then the drunker she'll be and the luckier Pharell will get. It's an ode to joyless sex, hard-won after a war of attrition.

Of course, nobody thinks I hate it for these reasons. Friends tell me that I'm just a musical snob who dislikes anything that's popular. It doesn't matter if I remind them that some of my favourite songs of all time are by Fleetwood Mac, Abba and Erasure. Or that I hated Get Lucky from the second I heard it, before the mania set in. No, they tell me that I'm just too uptight to just enjoy a fun pop song. Congratulations to them, then, for making me hate Get Lucky even more than I already did!