Happy Hour is one of those terribly catchy bright sounding songs that exposes a bit of a dark heart upon closer examination. The folks at SongMeanings seem to think it’s either about forced camaraderie with the boss after work, or perhaps simply about upper middle class slumming in a ‘real’ pub. While I think either explanation fits, I tend to go with the latter explanation myself. Either way you put it, it’s still a great song.
Here’s a link to the video. I love the dancing from the band–you don’t see it very often from bands like this.
And of course, the lyrics:
It’s happy hour again
I think I might be happy if I wasn’t out with them
And they’re happy it’s a lovely place to be
Happy that the fire is real the barman is a she
Where the haircuts smile
And the meaning of style
Is a night out with the bass
Where you win or you lose
And its them who choose
And if you don’t win then you’ve lost
What a good place to be
Don’t believe it
‘Cause they speak a different language
And it’s never really happened to me
{It’s happy hour again}
Don’t believe it
‘Cause they speak a different language
And it’s never really happened to me
{It’s happy hour again}
It’s another night out with the boss
Following in footsteps overgrown with moss
And they tell me that women grow on trees
And if you catch them right they will land upon their knees
Where they open all their wallets
And they close all their minds
And they love to buy you all a drink
And then we ask all the questions
And you take all your clothes off
And go back to the kitchen sink
Is Yuri G a song about a Russian cosmonaut, or a simple declaration of love for another woman? That’s the speculation at SongMeanings. Looking at the lyrics, it would be easy to argue either way, but I’d personally have to go with the latter.
To me, what makes this song great is Harvey’s voice, and the way she uses it to make you understand how she feels. It’s got some nice tension as well, giving the wail of pent up emotion at the chorus some real oomph.
And of course, the lyrics:
Hey there Luna
I’d like to tell ya
How sad am I
So love sick I could die
Needing water
My neck’s stiff, my head hurts
Been looking up all night
Been looking at the Moon, she’s so bright
She’s so white
She’s so clean
I’m telling you
She’s everything
I’d give it all
My sorry eyes
Give just everything
She’s got me so mesmerized
Yeah I wish I was Yuri-G
It’s just the things that she does to me
Yeah I wish I was Yuri-G
Give back my memory
Told by a doctor,
‘You make her figure
Needles stick in her
She’ll be your Luna’
I stuck them in real clean
I stuck them in a mile
I drew her down on me
I drew her with a smile
I’d give it all you see
I’d give my sorry eyes
I’d give just everything
She’s got me so mesmerized
Yeah I wish I was Yuri-G
It’s just the things that she does to me
Yeah I thought I was Yuri-G
Give back my memory
I stuck them in a mile
I stuck them in real clean
I stuck them in a mile
I drew her down on me
I drew her with a smile
I’d give it all you see
I’d give my sorry eyes
I’d give just everything
She’s got me so mesmerized
Yeah I wish I was Yuri-G
It’s just the things that she does to me
Yeah I thought I was Yuri-G
Give back my memory
Yeah I wish I was Yuri-G
I let her walk all over me
Yeah I thought I was Yuri-G
Give back my memory
A Shogun Named Marcus just plain rocks. It’s a great song celebrating the joys of being a redneck, and it’s just good old-fashioned rock and roll, with some great lyrics and a some awesome guitar work.
And of course, the lyrics:
If you thought it was boring in Jordan
Then come out here for a day
And by the way, the name is Marcus
But if you like, you can call me Sensei
Well the emperor is in the pig sty
And the geisha is in the shack
And you better believe I’ll hold them there
Till the feds, they pay me back
Kamikaze backbone
Nine iron spitfire
Continental samurai
Oh my lord
Brown sugar, sweet potato
Sourmash, baby back
Redneck romance
Bless my soul
Hari Kari and combines,
Come dancin’ with me
Hari Kari and combines,
Won’t you come dancin’ with me?
Yes, I’m a New World Samurai, and a redneck nonetheless
Yes, I’m a New World Samurai, and a redneck nonetheless
Yes, I’m a New World Samurai, and I can read your mind
Check it out, I’m like a buzzbomb
Yes, I’m a New World Samurai,
Check it out, I’m like a buzzbomb
So Beebopalloobopawopshamboo
And domo arigato if I got to
Bebopaloobopawopshamboo
And domo arigato if I got to
Bebopaloobopawopshamboo
And domo arigato if I got to
Bebopaloobopawopshamboo
And domo arigato if I got to
Diamond Smiles is a terrific song about a dark subject–suicide. The song tells the story of a young society girl named Diamond, the parties she attends and her eventual suicide at one of those parties. I love the lyrics and the tune is cool as well.
And of course, the lyrics:
“Traffic’s wild tonight”
Diamond smiles her cocktail smile.
Tonight she’s in heavy disquise.
She looks at her wrist to clock the passing time.
“Weather’s mild tonight”
She wonders will her glamour survive,
She wonders do they notice her eyes,
And can they see she’s going down a third time.
Everybody tries,
It’s Dale Carnegie gone wild,
But Barbara Cartland’s child
long ago perfected the motionless glide.
In the low voltage noise,
Diamond seems so sure and so poised
She shimmers for the bright young boys,
And laugh’s “Love is for others, but me it destroys”
The girl in the cake
Jumped out too soon by mistake,
Somebody said the whole things half baked
And Diamond lifts her glass and says “cheers”
She stands to the side
There’s no more to this than meets the eye,
Everybody drinks Martini dry,
And talks about clothes and the latest styles.
Chorus:
They said she did it
With grace.
They said she did it
With style.
They said she did it all
Before she died
Oh No
I remember Diamond’s smile
Nobody saw her go,
They said they should have noticed
‘cos her dress was cut so low.
Well it only goes to show
Ha, ha, how many real men any of us know.
She went up the stairs,
Stood up on the vanity chair,
Tied her lame belt around the chandelier,
And went out kicking at the perfumed air.
Kitchens of Distinction was a pretty cool late 80’s/early 90’s band, and this was one of their better songs, a melancholy tune (seemingly) about gay bashing and trying to find sanctuary. I love the vocals and the way it all sounds together.
And of course, the lyrics:
Sharpen your stunted tusks in this city night.
Yesterday a wide-eyed stabbing
Tonight a crowbar fight a desperate fight.
Sleeping alone and drugged frightened fat and wet
I swear I’m chasing sanity
Lost easy laughter and forgetting.
I’m going south
To feed the animals
I’m going south
Become elephantine.
Elephant in drought-struck shock is trumpeting her grief.
Stays with her dying baby trunk stroking dry and pursued
She dies too.
How can I justify wailing at these walls?
Every great nation ends up deserving war.
Last Cigarette is just one of those irresistible rock songs that blows a hole in the radio. Great hooks, a cool half-spoken melody, an easy chorus to sing along with, it’s just fun.
I don’t want to ascribe too much meaning to this one. It seems to just be about living life one day at a time.
And of course, the lyrics:
Hey hey it’s been so long since I have written with opinion
Oh it’s sharper than a sabre, I don’t feel like Errol Flynn
Got no computer I can’t type a letter in
You’re not responding right I guess I better start again
Well you can tell this fella’s hungry got a dozen mouths to feed
He asked for money for a bus pass and my, heart bleeds
I throw him a dollar that’s exactly what he needs
To get another jug of Thunderbird and not just what he asked us for a
Last cigarette, last cigarette, last cigarette, one before I go to bed
Last cigarette, last cigarette, last cigarette, one before I go to bed
A wha wha hua, a wha wha wha hua, a wha wha wha hua, a wha wha wha hua
A wha wha wha hua, a wha wha wha hua, a wha wha wha hua, a wha wha wha hua
I know it’s killing me
Yea I know it’s killing me
Yea I know it’s killing me
Yea I know I know I know I know I know I know I need a
Last cigarette, last cigarette, last cigarette, one before I go to bed
Last cigarette, last cigarette, last cigarette, one before I go to bed
(shut up!)
It’s getting late you got to get the kid in bed
You got to kiss the little woman put the children in the bed
Check the sports and weather and the living and the dead
You don’t have to hear the headlines you can hear what Johnny Carson said
Oh mister saint now won’t you listen to me please
I’m saying I’ll stay in bed but I’ll pretend I’m on my knees and praying
One for my hunger and another for my greed
And just forget about my envy Lord and give me what I need, I need a
Last cigarette, last cigarette, last cigarette, one before I go to bed
Last cigarette, last cigarette, last cigarette, one before I go to bed
A wha wha hua, a wha wha wha hua, a wha wha wha hua, a wha wha wha hua
A wha wha wha hua, a wha wha wha hua, a wha wha wha hua, a wha wha wha hua
I know it’s killing me
I know it’s killing me
I know it’s killing me
Yea I know I know I know I know I know I know I need a
Last cigarette, last cigarette, last cigarette, one before I go to bed
Last cigarette, last cigarette, last cigarette, one before I go to bed
Lotion is a creepy little song about the killer Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs. What I think really makes it work is the restraint of the guitars, creating a tense and moody atmosphere.
And of course, the lyrics:
I’m looking down the hole
your looking up at me
you’re cold and tired
that is easy to see
lower the rope to you
a bucket on the line
your membrane will be soft and smooth
and your heart will be mine
It rubs the lotion on its skin
Or else it get the hose again
It rubs the lotion on its skin
Or else it get the hose again
Yes precious it gets the hose
The look inside your eyes
drives me from control
evoking visions of my favourite casserole
and if i eat your heart
i’ll also eat your soul
and when i’m done with that i’ll use your skull as a bowl
It rubs the lotion on its skin
Or else it get the hose again
It rubs the lotion on its skin
Or else it get the hose again
Yes precious it gets the hose
It puts the lotion in the basket
The night is very cold
I’m feeling kind of weak
I think i’ll make myself a cap from your right buttocks cheek
And then I will go walking with my little dog
and then I’ll bury you underneath a log
It rubs the lotion on its skin
Or else it get the hose again
It rubs the lotion on its skin
Or else it get the hose again
Yes it does precious
It puts the lotion in the basket
bitch put the lotion in the basket
Oh put the lotion in the fucking basket bitch
put the lotion in the basket
Stickshifts and Safetybelts is a simple, uncomplicated song with a cool retro style. I think many people can identify with wanting to hold your guy or girl closer and being frustrated by the distance created by modern car design. It’s just a sweet little song.
And of course, the lyrics:
Stickshifts and safetybelts,
Bucket seats have all got to go.
When we’re driving in the car,
It makes my baby seem so far.
I need you here with me,
Not way over in a bucket seat.
I need you to be here with me,
Not way over in a bucket seat.
But when we’re driving in my Malibu,
It’s easy to get right next to you.
I say, “baby, scoot over, please.”
And then she’s right there next to me.
I need you here with me,
Not way over in a bucket seat.
I need you to be here with me,
Not way over in a bucket seat.
Well a lot of good cars are Japanese.
But when we’re driving far,
I need my baby,
I need my baby next to me.
Well, stickshifts and safetybelts,
Bucket seats have all got to go.
When we’re driving in the car,
It makes my baby seem so far.
I need you here with me,
Not way over in a bucket seat.
I need you to be here with me,
Not way over in a bucket seat.
The Leader is one of those songs you really wish was longer than 1:41. It’s a fun, rocking tune about the Profumo scandal over his affair with Christine Keeler. It’s got some really nice guitar work by Mick Jones, and a really good vocal by Joe Strummer.
And of course, the lyrics:
Atom secrets, secret leaflet
Have the boys found the leak yet?
The molehill sets the wheel in motion
His downfall picks up locomotion
The people must have something good to read on a Sunday
The leader’s wife takes a government car
In the dark to meet her minister
But the leader never leaves his door ajar
As he swings his whip from the Boer War
He wore a leather mask for his dinner guests
Totally nude and with deep respect
Proposed a toast to the votes he gets
The feeling of power and the thought of sex!
Now the girl let the fat man touch her
Vodka fumes and the feel of a vulture
The driver waited in the embassy car
The fat man’s trap was set for capture
So the girl let the thin man touch her
Mixing questions, drunken laughter
The ministry car was waiting there
A minister knows his own affair
The people must have something good to read on a Sunday
When I first saw the movie The Hunger, the thing I was most impressed by was the opening sequence, essentially a music video about a vampire conquest. Mainly because the music was really, really cool (I can’t say I remember much of the movie, however). The song was Bauhaus’ Bela Lugosi’s Dead, and it’s just a cool, moody song. From Wikipedia:
Bela Lugosi’s Dead is an influential gothic rock song (often considered to be the first) written by the band Bauhaus. The song was the band’s first single, released in August 1979. It did not enter the UK pop charts, but remained on sale for many years thereafter. The B-side features the song “Boys” and some versions also include an early recording of what would be their next single, “Dark Entries”. Due to licencing restrictions, the original version of the title track was not made available on any other format until the 1998 album, Crackle - The Best of Bauhaus.
There’s suggestion that the song may actually be more about Lugosi’s death than vampires in general at SongMeanings. I suppose that could be true, but I always take any comments on the internet with a grain of salt.
Here’s a link to a live performance
And of course, the lyrics:
White on white translucent black capes
Back on the rack
Bela Lugosi’s dead
The bats have left the bell tower
The victims have been bled
Red velvet lines the black box
Bela Lugosi’s dead
Undead undead undead
The virginal brides file past his tomb
Strewn with time’s dead flowers
Bereft in deathly bloom
Alone in a darkened room
The count
Bela Logosi’s dead
Undead undead undead