We all know (except for teenagers) that the advice and wisdom rock stars dispense is not particularly beneficial or wise. You know the drill: drink, do drugs, bang everything from a gong to your teacher to a fat-bottomed girl. Fight the power. Fight the law. Shoot someone in Nevada.
Whit, Igor, Dave, and I, plus fifteen session musicians explored this idea in a Random Idiots song called "Dear Ozzy (Thanks for Nothing)." You can read those lyrics and the story of the song here. If you haven't heard it, give it a shot. It's long, but it's pretty comprehensive. See how many lyrics you can identify. If you have heard it, you might want to listen to it again anyway. I just re-mixed it and it sounds a lot better.
Dear Ozzy (Thanks for Nothing) by Greasetruck
I don't think anyone has a problem with rock stars doling out terrible advice. It is expected. It is what rock music is all about. And if rock stars are dumb enough to follow their own advice and live the life, then they die young. This has been professionally documented here, but it's much more fun to read about here.
I think in a sick way everyone appreciates when rock stars burn out, rather than fade away. Artists like Kurt Cobain and Keith Moon and John Bonham and Jimi Hendrix and Robert Pilatus. We all have our favorites. It is far more annoying when these hotel room smashing, drug abusing, hedonistic, groupie banging, thrill seeking ego-maniacs become hypocritical. When they suddenly become Zen masters. When they advise you, as you face life's myriad problems and dilemmas (most of which they don't have to face, because they're sleeping it off on the tour bus) to slow down. Listen to the music. Be cool. Relax. Take a long ride on a motorbike. Take a load off, Fanny. Take it easy. Get that peaceful easy feeling. Ramble around some, maybe have a child in back of a Greyhound bus (preferably while comfortably numb). Just come on by Cripple Creek and we'll win some money at the track and then I'll tear it up and throw it into the air . . . because love is all you need. Don't worry, be happy. Don't let it get to you. Live in a yellow submarine. Or on a magic bus. Take a slow ride.
Normal rock lyrics are often melodramatic and hyperbolic. I guess that comes with the territory.Those type of lyrics-- the Highway to Hell and For Those About to Rock variety-- are not nearly as annoying as lyrics of the self-help, chill out variety. There's a reason why The Dude hates the fucking Eagles (although this guy thinks he's wrong).
And this premise is what inspired the new Greasetruck song. It's called "Peaceful Easygoing Guy." I think it's one of my best vocal performances ever.
Peaceful Easygoing Guy by Greasetruck
I'm a peaceful, easy going guy.
Some people might even say I come off as shy,
but if you touch my stereo, I'll poke your fucking eye.
Take my parking spot and you'll die.
I'm a peaceful easygoing guy.
I'm a peaceful easygoing man.
The kind of guy that likes to lend a hand.
But if you're on the beach, don't kick up fucking sand.
Can't you see I'm working on my tan?
Don't make me hatch an evil plan.
I'll kidnap you in my van.
Just like Silence of the Lambs.
I'm a peaceful, easy-going chap.
But ogle my wife and I'll give your face a slap.
I'm not going to take your concupiscent crap.
I'm a peaceful easygoing chap.
Unless you interrupt my nap.
I'm a peaceful easygoing dude.
The kind of guy who sleeps in the nude.
But I swear, if you touch my fucking food,
I'll stick my fist somewhere rude.
The place your wife and I screwed.
Maybe you'd like it there too.
I like . . . I like to relax.
He likes . . . he likes to relax.
I'm a peaceful easygoing mate.
The kind of guy you'd want your girl to date.
But you better warn her not to show up late--
I really really hate to wait.
You can bend down and lick my taint,
if you dare to make me wait.
I'm a peaceful easygoing gent.
Unless it turns out that you stiffed me on the rent
Then, my friend, they'll never know where you went.
You'll be wearing shoes of cement.
Yeah, wearing shoes of cement.
I'm peaceful and easy, it is known.
I like to drink a cup of coffee on my own.
You can tell my parking spot from the orange cone.
Don't ever ask me for a loan.
Like Russell Crowe, I'll hit you with a phone.
Like Joe Pesci, I'll beat you with a phone.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
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14 comments:
This need a monologue.
At OBFT, someone is giving this the "Rocket Man" treatment.
CNN just listed Piscataway, NJ as one of the 17th best city to live in if you are wealthy and single.
Mr. Truck should write a song about Piscataway and enlighten me. I'm clearly missing something. The last time I was in Piscataway, Rutgers won a big football game and somebody put a couch on a street and lit it on fire.
the only thing better than outdoor furniture is outdoor furniture on fire-- although it rarely improves property value.
piscataway is #17 now? there is NO singles scene to speak of, unless you go to new brunswick and then you're not in piscataway any longer. again, highland park borders piscataway and it's a far better place to live. why don't we rate?
and what is the "rocket man" treatment?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DvQwXOCKNLY
that explains everything. i think i may adopt that style.
That's why he's the best producer in the fictional radio morning show biz.
I thought "the rocket man treatment" involved an underage country singer.
TJ went parasailing in Russia?! I can't believe he has a passport.
http://tinyurl.com/2f84k3u
Mr. Truck you should use this for your next song.
http://tbz.me/lJ9vg
Isolated drums from "Won't Get Fooled Again".
wow-- i've never been to the world of "isolated" tracks-- pretty cool.
Dave, really? It might help/enhance your tracks.
You two in a third episode of "Tron"?
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