Seven years ago, in an apparent fit of madness, I composed enough songs to fill an album. Why I no longer remember. I showed a few of the best, hesitatingly, to a friend, who quickly, and rightly, denounced them.
WARNING: THE FOLLOWING SONGS SUCK. If you're a pop star who really wants to end your career they are yours for the taking. I don't want them, but please credit me if you are in fact foolish enough to make use of my 20 year-old self's terrible lyricism.
Why am I posting this? Because I have some 1,000 files saved in my doc folder, dating back to the week after 9/11. It's good to check on one's progress over the years. Most of these obviously are not intended for this blog, but some were and never made it on here. I forget which of those categories these songs were intended as, but it's amusing, now, to see me take a crack at a format that I don't usually engage in.
Rhyming Rambling
Clear, concise and
boring language/ without inflection without direction.
Songs these days are
indie garbage/ (and I don't mean the band)
They're as
pretentious as this recording/ they'll steal right from your hand.
Just me and my
friends making music/ but we want to make a new correction.
I'm babbling in
jibberish/ it's fluent gobbldygook,
Hark to pop
sensibilities:/ all songs need a hook.
I've read the works
and heard the sound/ looked at paintings and traveled 'round
We're well-versed in
culture/ the brit-americana
But remembers
Woodstock?/ Who saw play Sha-Na-Na?
We're making up
something new/ to this end we're bound.
Rhyming in Swahili/
conversational in Hindi?
Perhaps it's only
Yiddish/ it surely isn't trendy.
The band is small and
compact/ we play without a contract.
The instruments are
real here/ and the noise is genuine.
This may be the last
song,/ it may be where we begin,
Either way you know
it/ nothings missing, it's intact.
Funny verses silly
chorus/ the man has lost his mind.
The song's not going
nowhere/ but is one of a kind.
I'm babbling in
jibberish/ it's fluent gobbldygook,
Hark to pop
sensibilities:/ all songs need a hook.
Why I Don't Like
Indie
Don't label us Indie/
we're making something else
I don't know what it
is/ perhaps different since it sells
I'm sick of the
pretension/ tired of the credentials
They say it's like
the 60's/ but those are the essentials.
I want everyone to
hear me,/ I want this song to be known.
Not interested in
obscurity/ not playing on our own.
Get a manager, a
contract/ book some gigs and spread the sound
If you're bothering
to play it/ should spread the word around.
Now hear me, this is
real/ why are you singing songs?
If it's for your own
enjoyment/ then the sentiment is wrong.
Sing and play for an
audience/ if your music is important
Why shelter the rest
of us?/ Stand up and contend.
It's an old ideology/
it works for aristocracy,
And also for
oligarchy/ the chosen special few.
A New Song
Anathema to old!/ Borrow
from the Past.
Create for the
moment/ Make sure it can last.
Speed it up to slow
down/ Halt to make it fast.
Study up your
history/ Keep track of new affairs.
The climate is a
cycle/ We're losing polar bears.
It's destined to
repeat itself/ Attention to your cares.
I've seen this
before/ It's utterly unique.
The knowledge is out
there/ They discovered it this week.
And lessons from the
ages?/ Music never peaked.
Tired and cliched/
Revolutionary ruckus.
Done and done better/
Old folks free to suck us.
What makes you
different/ Others were just fuck-ups.
Labels and Me
You label me a
novelty/ you can say that I'm far out.
You can say he's
Dylan-esque/ or perhaps just sauerkraut.
But don't label me
indie.
Our band isn't
interested/ in mindless foolish sound
The ethics of
not-selling-out/ have been driven in the ground.
Don't dare label us
indie.
You say there's no
such thing/ each band is different
I call B.S., you
share a mindset/ of underground commitment.
We've killed greater
men for lesser offenses.
What happened to
serious rock?/ It went alternative
The mainstream pop
died/ the music now is furtive.
We can track you
down.
Get serious about
your music/ stop wasting all our time
Promotion by
word-of-mouth/ is akin to a thought crime.
I know where you
sleep.
The internet has
given us/ means to be heard, you say
I don't have time to
track every band/ who makes CDs these days.
We want a major
label.
Refferences
I read a lot of Borges/
That's where I got the idea
Stairways to
infinity/ I really hate Ikea
A modern Gregor
Samsa/ Who shoots in heatstroke in Algeria
This room has no
exit/ June 16th came, where were you?
Robert Johnson's
making breakfast/ Muddy's in the can
Bo Diddley's pushin
80/ Fats turns on a fan
Chuck's been doing
time/ Little makes heaps of sand
The house is owned by
Jerry/ he sleeps down the avenue.
I can make it as
obscure as you like
I can make it
indecipherable
That doesn't make it
any good
It merely makes it
unlikeable.
Thucydides and
Toynbee/ are arguing with Kant
Hegel is backing
Nietszche/ Gibbon starts to rant
Khaldun looks on in
wonder/ the philosophers start to chant
The historians record
it all/ before they join the brawl.
Frank is drawing
Batman/ Moore is writing prose
Art is more than
tragedy/ Crumb's depicting hoes
Bode makes erotica/
Eisner really knows
Scott tries to depict
it/ but the form is at a crawl.
I can make it as
obscure as you like
I can make it
indecipherable
That doesn't make it
any good
It merely makes it
unlikeable.
Munch is off heard
yelling/ Magritte smokes a pipe
Monet is painting lilies/ Manet looks for a snipe
Michelangelo's on the
ceiling/ Mattise's plums are ripe
They're all looking
at each other/ wondering why they do it.
Twain is copying
Swift/ Pope is in the corner
Poe's reading to the
class/ Hawthorne's in another lecture
Eliot looks to no
one/ Donne adds some texture
Masters Milton and
Chaucer/ somehow will get through it.
I can make it as
obscure as you like
I can make it
indecipherable
That doesn't make it
any good
It merely makes it
unlikeable.
Today Never Knows
A quick nod to the
Beatles
A song without the
rhymes
A remembrance for
the band
A tribute to
innovation
Phony Beatlemania
Comes back again
again
Cobain idolized them
To do so is not wrong
The songs were choice
The sound evolved
The music was on top
The listeners today
still get it
Paul and Ringo are
left
Changes have taken
place
Charting no longer
are they
They moved with the
legacy
I wish I had heard
them
I wonder about their
minds
I never was there to
hear it
I just have my
records
Other bands paved the
way
And of course they
were succeeded
Modern Bachs of
invention
A small
congratulations
Or perhaps they
didn't know
Or they didn't care
to think
Or the lives they
lead were phony
Or they truly meant
what they said
Oh, from early stuff
to late
Amongst the animosity
My fondness hasn't
wavered
A Liverpuddlian still
listens
Procrastination
I penned a trip around
the world
It would take me nigh
five years
Fifty countries,
seven continents
But I procrastinated
Politics intrigued me
somewhat
I thought I'd try and
join the race
Become mayor of San
Francisco
But I procrastinated
I considered a PhD
But I wanted to pay
off loans
I got a job, and said
someday
But I procrastinated
The world evolves
without my help
But here I'm stuck
within it all
I figured I'd make
the change
But I procrastinated
Terror
If you are a
fundamentalist/ I sing this song to you
Please stop foisting
your ideas/ upon the you-know-who
He's done a lot of
damage/ it just gets worse to bear
Perhaps he'd
reconsider/ if it was his ass over there.
If you are a
fundamentalist/ I sing this song to you
Please stop foisting
your ideas/ upon the you-know-who
He's planning to do
bad things/ to some people on a bus
He learned how from
his friends/ yet he is one of us.
If you are a
fundamentalist/ I sing this song to you
Please stop foisting
your ideas/ upon the you-know-who
He's worried about
the children/ and goes into the school
He wants to teach a
lesson/ and not be made a fool.
If you are a
fundamentalist/ I sing this song to you
Please stop foisting
your ideas/ upon the you-know-who
He's done it all for
Jesus/ he's done it for Allah
Perhaps he did it for
Moses/ or fights for the Buddha.
If you are a
fundamentalist/ I sing this song to you
Please stop foisting
your ideas/ upon the you-know-who
He wars and fights
think of the globe/ he resides in the lands of strife
He considers it a
mandate/ if it cost us or him his life.
Album Filler
Spector said that two
are good and ten are crap
I'm trying to get
past that make it as fluid as a rap
Every syllable is
choice, investigate the words I unwrap
They may be somewhat
ludicrous, but they sound okay.
I require rhyme and
meter
You've been drinking
by the liter
Dr. Honeydew and
Beeker
That verse doesn't
make much sense.
We'll try and do some
solos now to distract
And then just one
more verse to complete this act
A pre-debut comeback
attack
Though I don't really
know what that means.
I could claim this
was a concept album
Before this track was
laid, and then some
But if I did so now
I'd only sound dumb
How many times have I
used the word sound?
Utah and Virgil
Virgil lived in Moab/
preplexed by popularity
People coming through
his town/ they never would wait and see.
He started writing
fantasy/ an unpopular genre that
But it paid his bills
and his heat/ got milk so as to feed the cat.
Virgil wrote of
heroes, tired/ tried and well-known, Joseph Campbell
Had heard it all
before he knew/ the piece, though, had some potential.
'A sword-and-sandal
standby'/ 'Unoriginal in its scope and theme'
The critics roundly
panned it/ for not being close enough to them.
Virgil went off
backpacking/ through arches park and the canyonlands
He decided to find
out what/ the tourists came to understand.
He changed in there,
came out renewed/ took on a pen-name and began
To write of something
bold and new/ 'Abbey', they said 'I am a fan.'
Schooling Blues
Take yourself a
little pill/ here its called a test,
We'll scoop your
brains and/ add a hose to drain the rest.
If you are seven/
then you want to be the best.
We'll slowly teach
the country/ lower standards now.
Until 100%/ can pass
full know-how.
We can make material/
test-makers allow.
Why have recess
anymore?/ Why let kids be kids?
Running, jumping and
screaming/ why not call the feds?
Their starting to act
up now/ go and get their lids.
Jimmy has ADHD/ he acts
like a little boy
Full of vim and
energy/ likes to play with toys.
Why isn't he
studying?/ It should be his joy.
Throw out the testing
system/ bring back real learning.
Progressive
education/ teachers worrying,
Its challenging to
teach them/ test-books are burning.
They don't demand it/
we need to do it for them
They aren't proper
people yet,/ American citizens,
They just want to
live as kids/ schools won't let 'em.
Obligatory Other-Sex
Song
What did we do to
deserve Stephen Malkmus?
What'd we do to him
that he had to sing to us?
Oh wait, wrong song.
On Thursday Morning I
met her and fell in love at sight
By Saturday she knew
my name, and I was feeling tight
She hooked up with my
best friend the Sunday after that
Thanked me for introducing
her, otherwise they'd've never met.
That Wednesday I
wrote him a letter complaining
About his Monday's
interminable bragging
Come Friday he
stopped talking to me for good
And on Tuesday I told
him what to do he should.
Her name was
Esmerelda, a beautiful gypsy girl
Her eyes were green,
her skin was dark, her hair was full of curls.
She looked at me so
coyly, and lead me on a chase
But in this
relationship race I came in last place.
My friend is no
longer a friend of mine, a Brutus or a Judas
She betrayed my
heart's desire and slept with Aluitous.
She knew I wanted him
for myself but didn't seem to care
I turned on the
blender and put in her teddy-bear.
The two of them are
happy and take all pains to show it
But misery with one
another, the chapters I have co-writ.
The slut will move to
another man, and I can make my claim.
With my outlook on
love it's a wonder I've not gained fame.
His name was
Aluitous, a swimmer's build he had.
When he asked me if I
needed that chair it nearly drove me mad.
His blue eyes pierced
through my soul and out the other end,
And that is why he is
shacking up with my former best friend.
In the Forty-Eighth
Hour
Up all night
One bleak light
Shines glimmering on
my head.
Two days gone
Two days long
Without sleep, without
my bed.
Evil red eye
As if high
The rabbit stares
unblinking.
Eat ice-cream
And then scream
The fantasy is
breaking.
Nightmare visions
No sensations
Can compare to the
exhaustion.
Pumped on coffee
Pumped on caffeine
Pumped on frightened
adrenaline.
Keep Rocking
Rock and Roll may one
day day die/ But that day is not now.
We're going to keep
the Rock alive/ and we'll show you how.
Write down a tune,
get a band/ one that can really play,
Come up with some
melodies/ and now you're on your way.
Make sure the drummer
keeps the beat/ and the song's on-key.
Play around and mess
with the sound/ and Rock will be freed.
A bassist and some
piano/ don't forget guitar,
Then sing your song
and maybe/ it will make you a star.
Take some money for
yourself/ and give away the rest
Your company won't
like it/ but fans think you're the best.
The point in all of
this,/ is to make a better world.
Your life of Rock
needn't be/ solely of drugs and girls.
I'm not a preacher,/
don't think Jesus was son of God,
Just throwing out
suggestions/ of how to do one's job.
If you get the
money,/ get fame and Rocker's glory
Do something with
your power/ use your ability.
Make your many
millions/ and play to millions as well,
Your'e a Rock and
Roller now/ life couldn't be more swell.
