As a larger guy, I appreciate the sentiment behind this song a lot.
300 Pounds Of Heavenly Joy is a joyous celebration for those of us who are more fully figured than most, sort of a Baby Got Back for men. It’s got some great high energy, the horns are really fun, and Big Twist’s vocals have a certain charm all of their own. It’s a shame he’s no longer with us.
You can listen to the song below:
And of course, the lyrics:
Hoy, hoy,
Baby I’m your boy
300 pounds of heavenly joy.
I’m so glad that you understand
You’ve got 300 pounds of muscle and man.
This is it,
This is it,
Look what you get!
Now all you girls think your days are done
Don’t worry baby,
You could still have fun.
Take me, baby, for your little boy
Of 300 pounds of heavenly joy.
This is it,
This is it,
Look what you get!
If you’re sneakin’ and hidin’
Then the hidin’s bad.
Then you’ve got a man that you don’t like (Aaah!)
Get that cat, baby, and please me mad
Follow me woman we’ll have a real good time.
This is it,
This is it,
Look what you get!
Hoy, hoy,
Baby I’m your boy
300 pounds of heavenly joy. (Aaah!)
I’m so glad that you understand
You’ve got 300 pounds of muscle and man.
This is it,
This is it,
Look what you get!
I love this song’s blues guitar stylings, as well as the chorus. I also really enjoy Frontalot’s stilted rapping, as well as the sardonic lyrics of this song, about a preacher stating that not only is his congregation and religion the correct one, but the only way to save the world is to convert everyone to his ideas–seems pretty familiar to me.
Here’s a link to a live performance
And of course, the lyrics:
Congregation, settle in your seats.
The Reverend Front Aloud is on the mic and about to speak.
I’m about to freak you out, make you shiver in the pew
while I’m delivering to you my sermon and divinity ensues,
brought by the one true God. It’s a fact:
anybody else who ever had a God, their God’s wack.
We ain’t got to worry about ‘em; we picked the right horse.
You’re in the right house of worship (of course),
and forces are gathering out in the world
to diminish our faith in ways radical and thorough,
to discourage us from loving anything that’s immaterial,
to tempt our children with ever fruitier cereal,
and worst of all, to call us idiots while they do it.
My congregation, listen; I’m about to walk you through it.
We’re going to take the nation back from the heathens that’s within it.
We’re gonna get the most egregious of the atheists imprisoned,
cause a schism while we’re at it, but emerge on top,
and once we’ve purified our ranks we won’t stop —
we’ll purify your minds of what’s illegitimately thought.
It’s not to be a battle indiscriminately fought,
but an orchestrated effort, and I’m gonna need you to commit.
Might take a couple generations for this deviltry to quit.
Start with the kids — in fact, they get distracted from the Lord —
so I’d like you to write a couple letters to your school board.
Do you, do you really believe
that we were nothing but them monkeys swinging up in the trees?
Don’t it seem a little likelier that Adam and Eve
did a lot of humping, and that was the origin of the species?
And what has this so-called science ever done for us
but trumpeted that when ashes go to ashes & dust to dust,
despite the fuss of living, energy gets conserved.
Denying the weight of the soul of a man: this is ill deserved.
This is still the curse of Copernicus that we suffer.
Secular thought ought not to overflow its buffer
and run roughshod through the minds of you, the population.
Heretics such as Dawkins and Sagan overstep their station
to say that what we see and what we believe should be confluent.
Look to your Reverend to end apostasy — that’s what I’m doing!
Look to your Holy Book to light the way; that is its purpose.
Open it up and you’ll find Eden ‘fore you even scratch the surface.
And sure, this should be mirrored in the textbooks verbatim
but I’m not in a position yet to issue ultimatum.
So I lay down my scheme: we’ll make it seem as though creation
isn’t anything we’d like to interject to education.
We’ll wrangle up the language: science, data, theorem,
the irreducible complexity of the ears we use to hear ‘em
gnashing teeth and wailing from Kansas to PA.
Yes, my flock, I talk of futures not imminent but underway.
Already established an Institute for Discovery.
Discovered that Darwin is dead with outlook grim for recovery.
Schoolmarms will soon say that he burns in a fiery sea.
Think how much like paradise that’s gonna be.
It amazes me that this song never really saw the light of day before 1982, and I’m also amazed that some band hasn’t co-opted it for their own as a regular encore.
This is just one of those great songs that should have been an FM staple–it’s a good rocking song with plenty of room for improvisation, making it an almost perfect jam song. Additionally, it’s got a good beat and you can dance to it.
You can listen to this great song below.
And of course, the lyrics:
She’s over by the corner
Got her hands by her sides
They hit her harder harder harder
Till they thought she might die
Well I got a foggy notion, do it again
Over by the corner, do it again
I got my calamine lotion baby, do it again
I got a foggy notion, do it again
She made me do something that I never did before
I rushed right down to a flower store
I bought her a bundle a beautiful batch
Don’t you know something, she sent ‘em right back
Sally Mae, Sally Mae, Sally Mae, Sally Mae
Sally Mae, Sally Mae, Sally Mae, Sally Mae
This is one of the best story songs out there. While the song itself is pretty good, it’s the story that really puts it over the top. It’s an engaging story, told quite well, and very amusing in it’s way. The boogie-woogie piano in the background during the spoken part also helps the whole feeling.
Here’s a link to a tribute video
And of course, the lyrics:
You know I remember a few years ago, some funny things used to happen
to me, about 1956-57. At that time, there was no blues scene or, uh, not
really any kind of scene in, uh, London. I used to go out and play my guitar
in the streets and sing things with uh, bars and a hat down. I remember one
particular night, I was uh, playing the guitar in a little alleyway just off of
Walldor street in Soho and uh, I got busted by the police. This policeman
came up and dragged me and my guitar and my hat full of pennies off to
the police station. Anyway, the next day I had to appear in Marlboro street
police court and uh, it was quite a day. Police officer giving his evidence:
“I was proceeding in a Southerly direction, milord, when I heard uh, strange
sounds coming from the Walldor place, milord. A sort of boogie-woogie music
was being played. On further investigation, I saw the defendant standing there
with a guitar and an old hat on the floor collecting pennies. Well, I decided that
uh, he was contravening a breach of the peace, there as there was a traffic jam
about five miles long down on Walldor street, wondering what all the uh, fuss was
about, so then I arrested the uh, defendant”
“Uh, just one moment, officer. Wh-what is this boogie-woogie music here we’re
talking about?”
“Oh, well milord”, said the officer, getting out his notebook, obviously been up
doing his homework, “it’s a kind of jazz rhythm music peculiar to the American
negro”
“Oh. What was the defendant doing, uh, playing this kind of music there in
Walldor street?”
Anyway, I got off with a caution, a year’s conditional discharge, but I’ll always
remember that policeman and his boogie-woogie, so don’t try to lay no
boogie-woogie on the king of rock and roll.
Don’t you tell me n-n-n-no lies woman ’cause all you know I’ve told
Don’t sell me no alibi sister ’cause all you’ve got I’ve sold
You better leave that midnight sneakin’ to the one who worked it out
I don’t wanna hear no back talk speakin’ go on and shut yer mouth
And everything’s gonna work out tight if you act like you been told
So don’t try to lay no boogie woogie on the king of rock and roll.
Don’t you feed me no TV dinners when you know I’m used to steak
I don’t need no rank beginners when it’s time to shake that shake
You better pull your thing together, reach in and dust it out
And if ya feel that you just can’t dig it then I guess you know the route
It ain’t a matter of pork ‘n beans that’s gonna justify your soul
Just don’t try to lay no boogie woogie on the king of rock and roll.
Don’t try to lay no boogie-woogie on the king of rock and roll.
You weren’t alive when I started to drive, so don’t put none on me
You didn’t arrive ’til late ‘45 but your head’s in ‘53.
You got what it takes to keep the heads a-spinnin’ down by the old rim shack
And you come across just like a fool grinnin’ in the back of a red Cadillac.
You can’t come across the obstacle bridge until you pay the toll
So don’t try to lay no boogie woogie on the king of rock and roll.
Such a lovely song.
One After 909 was one of the first songs that John Lennon ever wrote, but it took over a decade for it to actually get recorded onto a Beatles album. Obviously influenced by American R&B of the 1940’s and 1950’s, it’s just a charming little ditty that gets your toes tapping. I could easily see it being one of those songs that they get the supergroup to play at the end of a lousy awards show or something along those lines.
Some additional information and speculation:
Here’s a link to the rooftop performance from Let It Be
And of course, the lyrics:
My baby says she’s trav’ling on the one after 909
I said move over honey I’m travelling on that line
I said move over once, move over twice
Come on baby don’t be cold as ice.
I said I’m trav’ling on the one after 909
I begged her not to go and I begged her on my bended knees,
You’re only fooling around, you’re fooling around with me.
I said move over once, move over twice
Come on baby don’t be cold as ice.
I said I’m trav’ling on the one after 909
Pick up my bag, run to the station
Railman says you’ve got the the wrong location
Pick up my bag, run right home
Then I find I’ve got the number wrong
Well I said I’m trav’ling on the one after 909
I said move over honey I’m travelling on that line
I said move over once, move over twice
Come on baby don’t be cold as ice.
I said we’re trav’ling on the one after 9 0,
I said we’re trav’ling on the one after 9 0,
I said we’re trav’ling on the one after 909.
This is just a great rock song. Great lyrics, great tune, easy to listen to. I really don’t have anything else to say about it.
Here’s a link to a live performance
And of course, the lyrics:
Well, me and Mark Twain were having us a ball
Telling each other lies, floating down from Hannibal
With a bottle and a worm and a cane pole
We were fishing for secrets where the catfish crawl
And the Mississippi River’s flowing downstream
Meet the Gulf of Mexico somewhere downstream
Meet the Atlantic Ocean somewhere downstream
Gonna meet you in the water somewhere downstream
Well, we picked up Harry Truman floating down from Independence
We said “What about the war?”, he said “Good riddance”
We said “What about the Bomb, are you sorry that you did it?”
He said “Pass me that bottle, and mind your own business”
And the Mississippi River’s flowing downstream
Meet the Gulf of Mexico somewhere downstream
Meet the Atlantic Ocean somewhere downstream
Gonna meet you in the water somewhere downstream
Well, we’re rounding St. Louis and heading for the coast
When we pick up Chuck Berry in a little rowboat
With one oar in the water and one in the air
A lightning rod for a white guitar
And lightning struck once, and lightning struck twice
And I said “If there’s a God, He sure ain’t nice”
And Chuck said “God is an Indian giver
I don’t trust nothing but the Mississippi River”
And the Mississippi River’s flowing downstream
Meet the Gulf of Mexico somewhere downstream
Meet the Atlantic Ocean somewhere downstream
Gonna meet you in the water somewhere downstream
I won’t call myself the biggest Robert Johnson fan. I don’t deny his influence on blues and rock and roll, but somehow most of his recordings leave me cold. However, I loved this song from the first time I heard it. It’s such a lyrically dark song, but it’s so jaunty in tone. Hard to imagine a song about shooting down your girl could be anything other than a downer, but here you go.
And of course, the lyrics:
I sent for my baby, and she don’t come
I sent for my baby, man, and she don’t come
All the doctors in Hot Springs sure can’t help her none
And if she gets unruly, thinks she don’t want do
If she gets unruly, and thinks she don’t want do
Take my 32-20, and cut her half in two
She got a thirty-eight special, but I believe it’s most too light
She got a thirty-eight special, but I believe it’s most too light
I got a 32-20, got to make the camps alright
If I send for my baby, man, and she don’t come
If I send for my baby, man, and she don’t come
All the doctors in Hot Springs sure can’t help her none
I’m gonna shoot my pistol, gonna shoot my Gatlin’ gun
I’m gonna shoot my pistol, gonna shoot my Gatlin’ gun
You made me love you, now your man have come
Aw baby, where you stay last night?
Ah baby, where you stay last night?
You got your hair all tangled, and you ain’t talkin’ right
Got a thirty-eight special, boys, it do very well
Got a thirty-eight special, boys, it do very well
I Got a 32-20 now, and it’s a burnin –
If I send for my baby, man and she don’t come
If I send for my baby, man and she don’t come
All the doctors in Wisconsin sure can’t help her none
Hey hey baby, where you stay last night
Hey hey baby, where you stayed last night
You didn’t come home until the sun was shinin bright
Ah boys, I just can’t take my rest
Ah boys, I just can’t take my rest
With this 32-20 layin up and down my breast
I personally don’t think Louis Jordan has ever gotten the respect he deserves for pretty much pioneering rock and roll. Yes, I know he’s in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Still, it seems his name never comes up when discussing the pioneers of rock and roll. I like Chuck Berry and Little Richard and Bill Haley and Carl Perkins and Buddy Holly and all the others, but Louis did so much before them. You can read more about his accomplishments here.
You’re My Meat is fairly typical of the sort of recordings Jordan used to put out. Usually comic in tone, but rarely mean-spirited, and just plain fun.
And of course, the lyrics:
Outside in and inside out you’re my meat
Fat and forty but lordy you’re my meat
From your feet to your head you knock me dead, you’re my meat
I got you covered but baby, you’re my meat
In the days of old when knights were bold
They were pious and modest I’m told
Can’t you see that couldn’t be me
I’d have to talk about your yams and your big fat hams
It excites me so because I know you’re my meat
Fat and forty but lordy you’re my meat
In the days of old when knights were bold
They were pious and modest I’m told
Can’t you see that couldn’t be me
I’d have to talk about your yams and your big fat hams
It excites me so because I know you’re my meat
Fat and forty but lordy you’re my meat
Fat and forty but lordy lordy . . . you’re my meat
I first heard Violent Femmes as a freshman at Illinois Wesleyan in 1983, and I thought they were the shit. I was definitely not alone in my assessment; in Bloomington-Normal, Illinois, they might as well have been the second coming of the Rolling Stones. They were just as controversial in their way as well, as many of the DJ’s on the campus radio station would not play them, either because they felt they were untalented, or that Gordon Gano couldn’t sing, or that they didn’t like the profanity and sexual undertones of the lyrics (this was the Midwest during the 80’s), or for myriad other reasons. Others just dug the fact that they rocked–they were raw, expressive, better musicians than anyone gave them credit for at the time, and they just had some great songs. This is one of them.
This particular song is really, really cool (not as cool as Add It Up, but still really damn cool). It’s a simple rock and roll tune, but there’s so many things that make it stand out:
- The use of the xylophone throughout the song really sets it apart.
- Quietly–brilliantly–integrated into the song as the third verse is a bit from Willie Dixon’s I Just Want To Make Love To You
- Gordon Gano’s vocals really gave their songs an earthy, raw feeling that made everything just much more heartfelt
In my Google search for info on the song, I found out that Gnarls Barkley covered it. That must have been interesting.
The video is on my top ten list of greatest rock videos of all time–it’s very effective in simply telling the story of the song. My understanding is that when they made it, they did it for a budget of less than $1,000. I wonder why more bands don’t simply tell the story of the song in their videos.
And of course, the lyrics:
Beautiful girl lovely dress
High school smiles oh yes
Beautiful girl lovely dress
Where she is now I can only guess
Cause its gone daddy gone
Your love is gone
Gone daddy gone
The love is gone away
When I see you
Eyes will turn blue
When I see you
Thousand eyes turnin blue
Tell by the way you that you switch and walk
I can see by the way that you baby talk
I can know by the way you treat your man
I can love you baby til its a cryin
Beatiful girl lovely dress
15 smiles oh yes
Beautiful girl lovely dress
Where she is now I can only guess
I like Joan Armatrading, but I wouldn’t call this her best song. However, it is one of her more infamous ones.
The fact of the matter is that at the time this was released (around 1986, if I recall correctly), there simply weren’t that many songs about S&M. Really. No fooling.
Anyway, it’s kind of a cute song, and a little bit of fun. It’s also my understanding that it’s fairly well known in the BDSM community.
I couldn’t find a link to the video (no great loss…it wasn’t anything special), but there is a video of Joan integrating Van Morrison’s Moondance into the song, which should be quite interesting.
And of course, the lyrics:
I just wanna see you at night
Don’t come round my house in the day
I love it when we start up a fight
And I love it when the fight ends your way
I love it when you call me names
I can’t wait to see you again
I know you’re gonna slap my face
you beat me up then beat me again
and over and over and over and over
And over and over
I love it when you call me names
Big woman
And a short short man
And he loves it
When she beats his brains out
He’s pecked to death
But he loves the pain
And he loves it
When she calls him names
She’s wearing heavy leather with lace
He dresses up in cowboy taste
They punish then they think up a crime
It’s their way of loving not mine
I love it when you call me names