Soul Coughing created an interesting fusion of samples, bebop jazz, spoken word and hip-hop, and the combination literally “blew a hole in the radio”, with a sound that hadn’t been heard before or since.
Down To This was the first song of theirs I heard, and I was instantly intrigued by both the song and the sound. The Andrews Sisters sample in the chorus helps balance out the counterpoint of the jazz rhythms vs. Mike Doughty’s spoken word attack.
I really have no song if this song is about anything, although there’s some speculation over how it came about at SongMeanings
And of course, the lyrics:
You get the ankles
and I get the wrists.
You get the ankles
and I get the wrists.
You get the ankles
and I get the wrists.
You come down to this.
Nerves are up
and the eyes all screwy
Blood like a panful
of boiling ratatouille
Hang from the axles of a box car
Follow the dotted line
Like a steer to Chicago
to the hooks of the Chicago man
I get all tripped up
my eyes turn to water
rug burns from a shag rug
struck dumb in the presence
polyester burns from a jacket
rub the skin thin
break down in a diner
then I pay the bill
cashier toothpick stuck in the ground
tiny lawnmower to mow me down
I could get lost in a lunchbox
lie low in the mittens in the lost and found
This is one of those songs that works on multiple levels: you can just dance to it, or you can listen to the lyrics and enjoy it in that way. A nihilistic celebration of the end of the world–because what the heck else are you going to do–it’s a reminder of how things were in another time. Given current events, it may not even be that antiquated anymore.
And of course, the lyrics:
Party at ground zero
A “B” movie starring you
And the world will turn to flowing
Pink vapor stew
Johnny, go get your gun, for the commies are in our hemisphere today
Ivan, go fly your MIG, for the Yankee imperialists have come to play
Johnny goes to Sally’s house to kiss her goodbye
But Daddy says to spend the night
They make love ’till the early morning light
For tomorrow Johnny goes to fight
Johnny, Ivan, Ian, everybody come along for our nations need new heroes
Time to sing a new war song
Party at ground zero
A “B” movie starring you
And the world will turn to flowing
Pink vapor stew
Please do not fear ’cause Fishbone is here to say (say what?)
Just have a good time the stop sign is far away
The toilet has flushed and green lights are a ghost
And drop drills will be extinct
Speedracer cloud has come
They know not what they’ve done
Sin has just won
The planet is a crumb
Party at ground zero
A “B” movie starring you
And the world will turn to flowing
Pink vapor stew
I just love this song. Love and adore it.
I really don’t know why Roxy Music aren’t in the Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame. They were very influential (ask Duran Duran), had a goodly number of top 40 hits, and were just plain cool.
This song starts out at a frenetic pace that any rock band would be hard-pressed to imitate or appropriate, then suddenly winds into one of the coolest love ballads you’ll ever hear. Additionally, Bryan Ferry’s tortured ‘Oh Mother of Pearl, I wouldn’t trade you for another girl’ at the ending just sends shivers down my spine. Great, great song.
And of course, the lyrics:
Turn the lights down
Way down low
Turn up the music
Hi as fi can go
All the gang´s here
Everyone you know
It´s a crazy scene
Hey there just look over your shoulder
Get the picture?
No no no no …….(yes)
Walk a tightrope
Your life-sign-line
Such a bright hope
Right place, right time
What´s your number?
Never you mind
Take a powder
But hang on a minute what´s coming round the corner?
Have you a future?
No no no no …….(yes)
Well i´ve been up all night again
Party-time wasting is too much fun
Then I step back thinking
Of life´s inner meaning
And my latest fling
It´s the same old story
All love and glory
It´s a pantomime
If youre looking for love
In a looking glass world
Its pretty hard to find
Oh mother of pearl
I wouldnt trade you
For another girl
Divine intervention
Always my intention
So I take my time
I´ve been looking for something
Ive always wanted
But was never mine
But now Ive seen that something
Just out of reach - glowing -
Very holy grail
Oh mother of pearl
Lustrous lady
Of a sacred world
Thus: even zarathustra
Another-time-loser
Could believe in you
With every goddess a let down
Every idol a bring down
It gets you down
But the search for perfection
Your own predilection
Goes on and on and on and on
Canadian club love
A place in the country
Everyones ideal
But you are my favorita
And a place in your heart dear
Makes me feel more real
Oh mother of pearl
I wouldnt change you
For the whole world
Youre highbrow, holy
With lots of soul
Melancholy shimmering
Serpentine sleekness
Was always my weakness
Like a simple tune
But no dilettante
Filigree fancy
Beats the plastic you
Career girl cover
Exposed and another
Slips right into-view
Oh looking for love
In a looking glass world
Is pretty hard for you
Few throwaway kisses
The boomerang misses
Spin round and round
Fall on featherbed quilted
Faced with silk
Softly stuffed eider down
Take refuge in pleasure
Just give me your future
Well forget your past
Oh mother of pearl
Submarine lover
In a shrinking world
Oh lonely dreamer
Your choker provokes
A picture cameo
Oh mother of pearl
So so semi-precious
In your detached world
Oh mother of pearl
I wouldn´t trade you
For another girl
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
This song isn’t likely to be for everyone, but I quite like it.
Fun Boy Three was an offshoot of the Specials, and their sound was a little different as well. Heavily reliant on African drum rhythms, and flavored with tinges of ska and jazz, it was a pretty unique sound for the time. This particular track has some interesting piano and horn sounds, which mixed with it’s fairly monotone sound creates a fairly dark mood. Like I said, I like it.
I had a very difficult time finding the lyrics to this song, and the ones I did find weren’t particularly accurate. I did my best to transcribe them, but I know I’m not 100% accurate either. Still, better than nothing, right?
It must be wonderful to live like you do
To have respect from everyone that you know
To have surprises waiting outside your door
When you come home to answer your telephone
He who knocks his key like this
The “no disturb” sign’s on the door
And he who call this, he got dropped
The invitation’s on the floor
Sitting down and switching on
The wooden box, the door is locked
Switching off the world outside
The party’s over for the night
It must be wonderful to live like you do
To have respect from everyone that you know
To have surprises waiting outside your door
When you come home to answer your telephone
The telephone starts to ring, it rings
The five piece doorbell starts to chime
The liquid box bursts into song
It’s out of tune, the time is wrong
It must be wonderful to live like you do
To have respect from everyone that you know
To have surprises waiting outside your door
When you come home to answer your telephone
It must be wonderful to live like you do
To have respect from everyone that you know
To have surprises waiting outside your door
When you come home to answer your telephone
Lying down and soaking in
The bubble bath, the door is locked
Switching off the world outside
The party’s over for the night
It must be wonderful to live like you do
To have respect from everyone that you know
To have surprises waiting outside your door
When you come home to answer your telephone
It must be wonderful to live like you do
To have respect from everyone that you know
To have surprises waiting outside your door
When you come home to answer your telephone
It must be wonderful to live like you do
To have respect from everyone that you know
To have surprises waiting outside your door…
This is a fun, twisted little song by Guadalcanal Diary. Contemporaries or R.E.M., they had a similar sound, but with more of a sense of humor. If you get a chance, I would suggest tracking down copies of their old albums. Additionally, you can find out more about the band at their official site.
The fun of this particular song is the slow jazzy beat, the perverse lyrics, and–well, it’s just fun to listen to.
And of course, the lyrics:
You went all the way, you’re in T.R.O.U.B.L.E.
Cause I’m gonna tell Mama
You got something to say you’d better say it now or hold your peace
Cause I’m gonna tell Mama Mama don’t listen to a thing I say
But I keep telling her anyway
Does me good to know I’m doing right
Come and get your whippin’ tonight
You start messing with me, you’re in T.R.O.U.B.L.E.
Cause I’m gonna yell Mama
She’s big and mean W.H.I.P.P.I.N.G.
And I’m gonna yell Mama
Mama don’t listen to a thing I say
But I keep telling her anyway
Does me good to know I’m doing right
Come and get your whippin’ tonight
I’m comin’ out the house to get you
bring me a switch
I’ll put big stripes on those fat little legs
and I’ll make you itch
Mama don’t listen to a thing I say
But I keep telling her anyway
Does me good to know I’m doing right
Come and get your whippin’
Mama don’t listen to a thing I say
But I keep telling her anyway
Does me good to know I’m doing right
Come and get your whippin’ tonight
They’re crass. They’re juvenile. They’re really not that talented. Yet, somehow I’m consistently entertained by the Bloodhound Gang. I like their music. I think they’re funny.
This particular song took a while to grow on me, but now I love it. With it’s groovy cocktail jazz background, Jimmy Pop’s faster than lightning rap, and the legendary chant of “The Drummer from Def Leppard’s only got one arm!”, it’s just one of those amusing tunes that you’re kind of ashamed to enjoy if you take yourself too seriously.
And of course, the lyrics:
Why is everybody always pickin’ on me?
The morn’
The morn’
The morn’
The morn’ that I was born my old man beat up the doctor
He clocked the doctor ’cause the doctor said I looked like Chewbacca
The doctor said sir you’re misled sir which infers you mistook me
I did not mean your lovely wife was shackin’ up with a Wookiee
What I mean is Wolverine is less hairy than your son
He’s looks like Chewie Baba Booey Baba Booey and a “Hong Kong Phooey” all in one
To put it mild your newborn child’s completely nutty fufu lookin’
I’d shove him back into the oven until he is done cookin’
But why’s everybody always pickin’ on me?
‘Cause my fifteen-year-old cousin has less acne
But why’s everybody always pickin’ on me?
Ain’t brushed them teeth since 1983
But why’s everybody always pickin’ on me?
‘Cause you’ve got the grooming habits of a chimpanzee
But why’s everybody always pickin’ on me?
‘Cause you’re white but got a nose like Bill Cosby
Why’s everybody always pickin’ on me?
Always pickin’ and rippin’ apart poor ol’ Jimmy Pop Ali
I got a schnoz like the Cos but there’s a lot more wrong with you
So back me up Bill yeah and you’re ugly too
So what if I brush my teeth with a piece of cheddar cheese
Or wear a fishnet shirt by Chams with my Sergio Valenti jeans
And my mirror never lies but it always verifies
I got more cheese and pepperoni than a homemade pizza pie
You compare me to a Monchichi but I don’t understand
Why I’m scorned like I’m deformed like the Elephant Man
And yeah I took my mom to the prom but hey she asked me first
But at least this time I didn’t find my date in the back of a hearse
About as popular with the girls as Englebert Humperdinck
And that might be ’cause everybody calls me Shrinky Dink
I know I’m known as Polaroid I’m not a total retard It’s ’cause I’m done in sixty seconds and you’ll still want it enlarged
But why’s everybody always pickin’ on me?
‘Cause you wore velour flares until the late Eighties
But why’s everybody always pickin’ on me?
‘Cause you run like a girl and you sit down to pee
But why’s everybody always pickin’ on me?
‘Cause your only school chum was the lunch lady
But why’s everybody always pickin’ on me?
You took your mom to the prom but got lucky
Like that episode where Gilligan gets sick of being teased
And he breaks into the Professor’s lab and makes some L.S.D.
Peaks freaks and eats the Skipper’s brains then beats Ginger with coconuts
As Mr. Howell and Lovey burn alive inside of their grass hut
Oh he’ll kill again that Gilligan they should have let him be
And like a postal clerk I’ll go berserk if you don’t stop teasin’ me
See the trick is only pick on those that can’t do you no harm
Like the drummer from Def Leppard’s only got one arm
The drummer from Def Leppard’s only got one arm
The drummer from Def Leppard’s only got one arm
The drummer from Def Leppard’s only got one arm
The drummer from Def Leppard’s only got one arm
The drummer from Def Leppard’s only got one arm
The drummer from Def Leppard’s only got one arm
The drummer from Def Leppard’s only got one arm
The drummer from Def Leppard’s only got one arm
But why’s everybody always pickin’ on me?
‘Cause my fifteen-year-old cousin has less acne
But why’s everybody always pickin’ on me?
Ain’t brushed them teeth since 1983
But why’s everybody always pickin’ on me?
‘Cause you’ve got the grooming habits of a chimpanzee
But why’s everybody always pickin’ on me?
‘Cause you’re white but got a nose like Bill Cosby
But why’s everybody always pickin’ on me?
‘Cause you wore velour flares until the late Eighties
But why’s everybody always pickin’ on me?
‘Cause you run like a girl and you sit down to pee
But why’s everybody always pickin’ on me?
‘Cause your only school chum was the lunch lady
But why’s everybody always pickin’ on me?
‘Cause no one likes you monkey boy