So yeah, this song isn’t fun. Not fun at all.
Okay, I keed, I keed.
This song in particular is about a man being compared to his “perfect” neighbor (although I have to say, I think a man like Endicott would drive many women insane over time), and why he isn’t like the titular character. Additionally, the singer is a bit of a rake himself, a bit of a gigolo and gold digger, pretty much what you expect from a Kid Creole song. The Coconuts chime in nicely with their mocking chorus “why can’t you be like Endicott?“, and the song has a nice, funky bassline and a bit of calypso as well.
And of course, the lyrics:
Endicott’s up by 5 o’clock
Endicott’s givin’ it all he got
Endicott’s job is six to nine but
Endicott’s home by nine O five
Endicott helps to cook the steak
Endicott helps to wash the plates
Endicott puts the kids to bed
Endicott reads a book to them
(Why cant you be like Endicott?)
Endicott loves Tribena so
Endicott puts her on a pedestal
Endicott’s wish is her command but
Endicott don’t make no demands
Endicott’s always back in time
Endicott’s not the cheatin’ kind
Endicott’s full of compliment
Endicott’s such a gentleman
(Why cant you be like Endicott?)
Cause I’m free
Free of any made-to-order liabilities
Thank God I’m free
Cos it’s hard enough for me
to take care of me, oh-oh
Endicott’s carryin’ a heavy load but
Endicott never really ever moans
Endicott’s not a wealthy guy but
Endicott pays the bills on time
Endicott’s got ideas and plans
Endicott’s what you call a real man
Endicott always will provide ’cause
Endicott is the family type
(Why cant you be like Endicott?)
Cause I’m free
Freer than a pirate on a frigate out at sea
Thank God I’m free
Driftin’ all around just like a tumbleweed, oh-oh
Maybe I need someone
Someone who isn’t undone
Maybe an older woman
Will tolerate me
Maybe that certain someone
Older and wiser woman
Maybe the perfect someone
To satisfy me
Endicott keeps his body clean
Endicott don’t use nicotine
Endicott don’t drink alcohol
Endicott use no drugs at all
Endicott don’t eat any sweet
Endicott don’t eat pig feet
Endicott’s frame is mighty strong
Endicott make love hard and long
(Why cant you be like Endicott?)
Endicott loves Tribena so
Endicott walks her to the sto’
Endicott likes to hold her hand
Endicott’s proud to be her man
Endicott stands for decency
Endicott means formality
Endicott’s the epitome
Endicott stands for quality
Endicott
Endicott
Endicott
Endicott
Our love will be…
I have to admit–I had a massive crush on Annabella Lwin back in 1982. But that wasn’t the reason I dug Bow Wow Wow. I liked the band because they “blew a hole in the radio”–well, actually, they weren’t really getting any airplay even on WXRT here in Chicago, but I heard a few songs via video, bought a sampler or two with a song on it, and just loved the sound. Years later, I discovered that there were African folk songs that were pretty much note for note with some of their songs, and given that the infamous Malcolm McLaren was their manager, it doesn’t take much to put two and two together.
Still, I think their music still holds up, and I still listen to it frequently. This particular song is fairly typical of their output, at least while McLaren was manager–salacious, teasing vocals and lyrics, hard pounding bass and drums, and sparse, niggling guitar sounds. Quite excellent, and the fact that Annabella was cute just made it all the better.
Here’s a link to a live performance from 1982
And of course, the lyrics:
Lookin’ for a boy, a real boy, strong boy
Searchin’ for a boy, a tough boy, rough boy
I just love the smell of his leather skin
Just love to feel muscle in his jeans
Give me a cow, give me a boy, give me a cowboy
I’m looking, I’m searching for someone (who won’t go weak at the knees)
When those schoolboy Apaches come knocking
Comb your hair, good looking, prepare to go rocking
Searching for a boy, a real boy, a strong boy
I wanna be squeezed by a pair of boots
I wanna get teased by Westcoast boots
Give me a cow, give me a boy, give me a cowboy
I’m looking, I’m searching for someone (who won’t go weak at the knees)
When those schoolboy Apaches come knocking
I wanna be chapped by a lassoo freak
Love to be kidnapped, at least for a week
I’m looking, I’m searching for a real boy - give me a cowboy
Give me a cow (cow), give me a boy (boy), give me a cowboy
I’m coming to hunt you down, Geronimo
I’m sure I can’t stand this world much longer
Give me a cow (cow), give me a boy (boy), give me, give me a cowboy
I’m coming to hunt you down, Geronimo (hear the wolf attack in the canyon)
I’m sure I can’t stand this world much longer
Crosseyed and Painless is one of those ultra-funky songs that is just a buzz to get down to on the dance floor. I’m not really sure what it’s about–perhaps about how politicians and other leaders twist and manipulate data and statistics to make you believe what they want–but I cannot say that for sure.
And of course, the lyrics:
Lost my shape,
tyring to act casual.
Can’t stop,
I might end up in the hospital.
Changing my shape,
I feel like an accident.
They’re back,
to explain their experience
Isn’t it weird?
Looks too obscure to me
Wasting away
And that was their policy
I’m ready to leave
I push the fact in front of me
Facts lost
Facts are never what they seem to be
Nothing there,
No information left of any kind
Lifting my head
Looking for danger signs
There was a line
There was a formula
Sharp as a knife
Facts cut a hole in us
There was a line
There was a forula
Sharp as a knife
Facts cut a hole in us
still waiting (repeat)
The feeling returns
Whenever we close our eyes
Lifting my head
looking around inside
The island of doubt
It’s like the taste of medicine
Working by hindsight
Got the message from the oxygen
Making a list
Find the cost of opportunity
Doing it right
Facts are useless in emergencies
The feeling returns
Whenever we close our eyes
Lifting my head
Looking around inside.
Facts are simple and facts are straight
Facts are lazy and facts are late
Facts all come with points of view
Facts don’t do what I want them to
Facts just twist the truth around
Facts are living turned inside out
Facts are getting the best of them
Facts are nothing on the face of things
Facts don’t stain the furniture
Facts go out and slam the door
Facts are written all over your face
Facts continue to change their shape
I’m still waiting (repeat)
Living Through Another Cuba is a great Cold War song about being stuck between two superpowers seemingly looking for an excuse to destroy the world. As I understand it, Britain was sort of a mediator between the Soviet Union and the USA at the time, and the song’s lyrics reflect the feeling of helplessness that many bystanders felt.
The song itself is actually quite fun, with some nice guitar parts, a groovy beat, and some nice chanting to go along with the conga drums. Given the lyrical content, it makes a nice counterpoint.
And of course, the lyrics:
Living through another Cuba
It’s 1961 again and we are piggy in the middle
While war is polishing his drum and peace plays second fiddle
Russia and America are at each other’s throats
But don’t you cry
Just on your knees and pray, and while you’re
Down there, kiss your arse goodbye
We’re the bulldog on the fence
While others play their tennis overhead
It’s hardly love all and somebody might
Wind up red or dead
Pour some oil on the water quick
It doesn’t really matter where from
He love me, he loves me not
He’s pulling fins from an atom bomb
This phenomenon happens every 20 years or so
If they’re not careful your watch won’t be the
Only thing with a radioactive glow
I’ll stick my fingers in my ears
And hope they make it up before too late
If we get through this lot alright
They’re due for replay, 1998