"There were plants and birds and rocks and things"
--America's “Horse With No Name”
Uhuh – dudes, you been smokin’ way too much mary jane. Sounds like you got a-hold of that Tai stick, laced with opium my best friend’s older brother got from a wacked out returning vet in the 70’s. I can just see this band's lyricist getting started listing what he saw and then just totally spacing out, then coming to and finishing the line with “and things.” Adam and James said you should have seen their first draft; “There were papers, rocks and scissors, man!”
"Seasons crying no despair, alligator lizards in the air"
--America's “Ventura Highway”
I hate the band America! Of all things for us Venturans to be remembered by…why not Pomona Freeway, or Pasadena Freeway, or even the Victor V. Veysey Expressway – these lyrics discouraged me so much I had to move away from Ventura.
"Lucky that my breasts are small and humble, so you don't confuse them with mountains"
--Shakira's “Whenever, Wherever”
Ahh yes, these lyrics really should be on this list. People really like this song; oh wait, they like the video. Shakira’s inclusion of these lyrics are both cleverly and philanthropically a fantastic nod to visit the war-torn Cambodian tourist resort called “Virtuous Woman's Breast Mountain” (it really exists in Cambodia, but the report is there weren’t enough virtuous woman in America to start a chain). P-Diddy, Snoop Dog and 50 Cent are rumored to be offering guided tours, the ad in High Times reads, “located about 400 Kilometers from Phnom Penh…” Who said today’s artists are all fixated on sex, drugs and money? Not Shakira, you go girl!
"There's an insect in your ear, if you scratch, it won't disappear"
--U2's “Staring at the Sun”
No way, no, no beep beep way. I’m not even going to dignify this song or its syphilitic lyrical offspring by providing a Mystery Science Theatre 3000 running dialogue. I’ll let Bono tell you the best way to fully and completely enjoy his chanté, he provides the answer in the very same song “don't try too hard to think... don't think at all.”
"Coast to coast, L.A. to Chicago"
--Sade's “Smooth Operator”
Lyrics like these are painful, really, ouch, oww, painful. That’s why her fans and followers are called…you got it – sadists. Forgetting for a second the fact that Chicago is not on an ocean coast, it still is a fairly long trip to get from LA (that's Louisiana in this instance) to the Windy City in time for a Thursday slow dance. If we can but set aside Sade’s being geographically and topographically challenged, this could have been a Beach Boys jam – “yo, Brian, I heard the swell’s killer in Chi-Town, grab your stick and let’s load up the woody now, let’s head to Chicago. Waa waa wipe-out!”
“Before the cream sits out too long, you must whip it… I say whip it, whip it good.”
--Devo’s “Whip It”
Anyone know the name and location of the dude ranch in Arizona where Devo actually saw this act and used it for the song and video inspiration? Honey, repeat after me, “when a problem comes along, you must whip it…” Ahh, I feel much better – who needs a drink or a shrink?
“You can say that I'm one curly fry in the box of the regular, messing with the flavor oh the flavor that you savor. Saving me for last but you better not eat me at all, living in a fast food bag making friends with the ketchup and salt”
--Jason Mraz’s "Too Much Food"
Look at a letter from Jason’s 1st grade teacher: “Dear Mr. And Mrs. Mraz; we are required to inform you that your son is special. He loves the sound of nonsensical rhyming words, and doesn’t appear to live in the same world as his peers. Please find an outlet for him, I would suggest hip-hop, rap or contemporary rhyming.” His rhyming is so awful it leaves me curled up in a corner of the room in a fetal position, banging my head against the wall.
“Oh tell your Aunt Louise, tell anything you please. Myself already knows that I'm okay. But don't tell my heart, my achy breaky heart. I just don't think it'd understand”
--Billy Ray Cyrus’s “Achy Breaky Heart”
Myself already knows? Dear ghost of rednecks past – no wonder Miley (who legally changed her name to Miley) is schizophrenic and wants to be somebody, anybody other than who she is.
"You're so vain you probably think this song is about you. You're so vain I bet you think this song is about you. Don't you? Don't you? Don't you?"
--Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain”
A version that made sense would have to go along the lines of: You're so vain that, even if this song wasn't actually about you, which it is, you would probably think that it was. Not as catchy, but no longer batspit insane.
“I look at the floor, and I see it needs sweeping. Still my guitar gently weeps.”
--The Beatles’ “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”
Really? Why did his guitar weep? Was George so stoned that he picked up his guitar and used it to sweep the floor? To be honest, this is a great melodic Beatles song, which is one of those weird things everyone experiences, like a favorite pizza topping, or a favorite failed TGIF show. However, If George was too busy swapping wives with Eric Clapton to clean or create a coherent rhyme scheme, that's his problematic legacy.
--The Beatles’ ‘Obli-di Obli-da?’
Obla-oh-never-mind! The Beatles proved conclusively that there were two things they could not do: play reggae and feign enjoyment. “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da” was a ska track recorded at a point during the White Album sessions when the Beatles would happily have beaten one another to death if only they had had some clubs on hand. Worst Moment? The woefully unconvincing laughter in the final line: “If you want some fun — heh-heh-heh-heh! — take ob-la-di-bla-da!”
“Sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come.
Corporation tee-shirt, stupid bloody Tuesday.
Man, you been a naughty boy, you let your face grow long.
I am the eggman (woo), they are the eggmen (woo), I am the walrus,
Coo coo, kachoo.”
--The Beatles’ “I am the Walrus”
Oh man, if you ever want to demystify the 60’s and the whole “turn on, tune in, drop out” era, go back and read the lyrics from the Liverpool boys. These blokes make Brooks and Dunn look positively Shakespearean. Now let’s go boot scootin’ boogie…
“He wear no shoeshine he got toe-jam football” or maybe
“He bag production he got walrus gumboot”, no? or maybe
"He got ono sideboard he one spinal cracker
He got feet down below his knee
Hold you in his armchair you can feel his disease
Come together right now over me”
--The Beatles’ “Come Together”
This gem was written during the infamous “Sleep-in” with Lennon & Ono. Nothing good could have ever come from a tumble in bed with either Yoko Ono, Timothy Leary and/or politics. You know, after being stuck so long in the same room (let alone the same bed) with Yoko, John must have called Leary and asked him to bring over the LSD. After meeting Yoko, Leary decided to turn himself in to the police, he was subsequently jailed and never ran for office under his slogan “Come Together.” The world indeed was a better place.
“I don't want to see a ghost, It's the sign that I fear most, I'd rather have a piece of toast.”
A piece of toast!? What the... !? I'm scared of ghosts too, but a piece of toast – is toast to ghosts, like garlic to vampires? I know werewolves got all crazy from grains that grew fungi (Ergot poisoning) that turned into hallucinogens…but toast?
“Where you gone for tomorrow?
Where you gone with the mask I found?
And I feel and I feel when the dogs begin to smell her,
Will she smell alone?”
--Kurt Cobain’s “Anything”
Where you gone for? Whoa! I’m glad I only did heroin once and settled on coke.
“I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride my bike
I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride it where I like...”
--Queen’s “Bicycle Race”
Tsk, tsk Brian May, how could you, a modern poet, be a party to this tripe? By the late 70’s I came to expect Freddie “Cliché” Mercury to rip off artists, but ripping off Arlo Guthrie’s “I don’t want a pickle, I just want to ride my motorcycle” – couldn’t you have found a decent song to jack? At least Led Zeppelin had the good sense to rip off great tunes, from the old time great folk and blues artists; When the Levy Breaks, In My Time of Dying, Custard Pie, Dazed and Confused, Babe I’m Gonna Leave You, Gallows Pole, I Can’t Quit You Baby, Bring it on Home – Oh Willy Dixon and Muddy Waters, where have you gone?
“Your hair/It’s everywhere”
--Dashboard Confessional’s “Screaming Infidelities
I don’t care how you think about this line, it’s gross and weird in every context possible. Even in the context of the song, which is about a painful breakup, it’s creepy.
“Well, I am just a monkey man, I’m glad you are a monkey woman too”
--The Rolling Stones’ “Monkey Man”
I bet you didn’t know this was written as the theme to Planet of the Apes? Having trouble placing this song? Imagine you’re in a dentist’s chair with a 10-inch steel drill about to bore into your molars when this non-Muzak classic pipes in through the office speakers. The singer sounds like he could be your cross-dressing, patchouli-scented sixth-grade science teacher, whispering politely about being in love with you. Then the Monkey Man refrain sets in. Then you pray for the sweet, sweet relief of the drill.
“Thank you very much, Mr. Roboto. For doing the jobs that nobody wants to… Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto”
--Styx’s “Mr. Roboto”
Forwards, backwards, it still sounds stupid. You know that jerk in your school who could burp the alphabet? That’s what this song is like, burp burp burp mr. roboto.
“Uga chacka uga uga uga chacka”
--B.J. Thomas’ “Hooked on a Feeling”
If you want really classic lyrics, you must go back to the 70’s and listen to B.J. Thomas’s (I just love saying his name) “Hooked on a Feeling.” Here come the lyrics again, are you ready for this…? “Uga chacka uga uga uga chacka. Uga uga uga chacka. Uga chacka uga uga uga chacka. Uga uga uga chacka…” Really, it does that for ten seconds before normal lyrics start. And it's a great song, wink wink, tongue in cheek. Check out Hooked on a Feeling when some friends (who are totally altered) are over for karaoke, and get ready to Facebook tag them.
Oh there’s more, much, much more – but I’m tired and my family is leering at me and leaning in the direction of making a phone call, oh wait, I hear Noelopan VIX (aka Jerry Samuels) at the door! !aaaH-aH ,yawA eM ekaT oT gnimoC er'yehT".
submitted by Richard Giberti