An idiosyncratic blog dedicated to the precursors, the practioners, and the descendants of power pop.
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Thursday, July 06, 2017
What's the Matter With Kids Todeay?
Noted without comment.
Except to say that The Smiths would have been a hell of a great instrumental band.
Sparks, as usual, say it best: "Lighten Up, Morrissey."
See the video at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LwIrFTo495E
And these are the lyrics.
She won't go out with me, no, she won't go out 'Cause my intellect's paper thin She won't go out with me, no, she won't go out Since my intellect's not like him
So, lighten up, Morrissey
She won't hang out with me, no, she won't hang out 'Til my biting wit bites like his She won't hang out with me, no, she won't hang out 'Til my quick retort's quick as his
So, lighten up, Morrissey? Lighten up, lighten up Lighten up, lighten up Lighten up, Morrissey Lighten up, lighten up Lighten up, Morrissey
She won't have sex with me, no, she won't have sex 'Less it's done with a pseudonym She won't do sport with me, no, she won't do sport Says it's way, way too masculine, look at him
So, lighten up, Morrissey? Lighten up, lighten up Lighten up, lighten up Lighten up, Morrissey Lighten up, lighten up Lighten up, Morrissey
I got comparisons coming out my ears And she never can hit the pause If only Morrissey weren't so Morrisseyesque She might overlook all my flaws
So, lighten up, Morrissey Lighten up, lighten up So, lighten up, Morrissey Lighten up, lighten up Lighten up, lighten up Lighten up, Morrissey' Lighten up, lighten up Lighten up, Morrissey
She won't dine out with me, no, she won't dine out Says my T-bone steak is at fault She won't dine out with me, no, she won't dine out With a murderer, pass the salt
Lighten up, lighten up Lighten up, lighten up Lighten up, Morrissey Lighten up, lighten up
I particularly like the stanza about the T-bone steak.
Medium rare and eaten with the hands. In the nude, by candlelight, with a bottle of good Cabernet Sauvignon. Its succulence will unleash the beast. Savor the pleasures of the flesh. Get every last bit of meat off that bone. Raise the fuckin' kundalini.
A live performance vid is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qz24lF_DrFw
And lyrics to Balls?
Nothing too prosaic Nothing too archaic Here's your wakeup call We are provocation We are instigation Here's your wakeup call, your second call
Balls. All you need are, Balls. To succeed are Balls. All you need are Balls. All you need are, Balls. To succeed are Balls. All you need are
You can sting or be stung You can fling or be flung It's all up to you When they're being with you They're agreeing with you What you say is true, it comes from
Balls. All you need are, Balls. To succeed are Balls. All you need are Balls. All you need are, Balls. To succeed are Balls. All you need are
You can wait for saviors Meting out their favors You can wait and wait Hope may spring eternal Sounds a bit maternal Do you want to wait, or crash the gate
Balls. All you need are, Balls. To succeed are Balls. All you need are Balls. All you need are, Balls. To succeed are Balls. All you need are.
Others will respect you Others will elect you They'll accept your calls Others will desire you They may not admire you But they will admit You do transmit Balls.
Morrissey sure nursed himself on some great tunes. Judging from his music and lyrics, it's hard to believe that he was a fan of such ballsy and/or groundbreaking bands as the Dolls, Iggy, Patti Smith Group, the Velvets, Roxy Music and Sparks. Nevertheless, his cult remains undeniable. I did not come of age with it. And I thank the Lord for this. I've got little use for Morrissey. England didn't swing in the 1980's.
Mark: re: Sparks - In the early Seventies the rumor was that the Mael Brothers had an incestuous relationship. However unfounded the gossip may have been, it added to their mystique. I remember seeing them a few times in the 1970's. First time was at the Whisky when "Wonder Girl" was getting some airplay and "Halfnelson" had just been repackaged as "Sparks."
Not long after that, me and my longtime girlfriend from Hawthorne saw them again at the Whisky. It was around the time of "Woofer." But we really didn't go for the music. My girlfriend knew a roadie for the other band that played that night. They were Three Dog Night proteges. We went to score some china white off of him. Since quality guys were scarce that night, we went to her place after the gig, fired up, and had dreamy sex. It was only my second time slamming it. For a time, we did it together regularly, but carefully, once or twice a month. It became part of our much anticipated, "special treat," sex ritual. Usually threesomes, as we shared each others boyfriends. All involved would partake and be kissed by the perfect warmth of the creator. We served him with our reason to be here.
But I digress. I also saw Sparks with Flo & Eddie and another time co-billed with an unsigned Van Halen. How weird is that?
Re: Angst in my pants/Balls - My livelihood and quasi-raison d'etre was giving guys overwhelming angst in the pants:-) That power is intoxicating, especially when it's just a prick tease. Guys may complain, but deep-down they love being denied. It means they don't have to worry about letting you down:-) Since Eve, a woman with game trumps balls. You feel me?
Agreed. The oh-so-hip Morrissey is such a delicate, tortured soul...
ReplyDeleteThat being said, I really dig Johnny Mars.
The Smiths were the sum of it's parts. It would not have been the same band without Moz's lyrics.
ReplyDeleteIt's like U2. Without Bono, the Edge would have been just another guitar player.
Too Much Morrissey..."
ReplyDeleteSaid no Morissey concert goer ever.
I liike how the author is Robert Smith.
ReplyDeletePete -- I thought that was amusing as well.
ReplyDelete:-)
Sparks, as usual, say it best: "Lighten Up, Morrissey."
ReplyDeleteSee the video at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LwIrFTo495E
And these are the lyrics.
She won't go out with me, no, she won't go out
'Cause my intellect's paper thin
She won't go out with me, no, she won't go out
Since my intellect's not like him
So, lighten up, Morrissey
She won't hang out with me, no, she won't hang out
'Til my biting wit bites like his
She won't hang out with me, no, she won't hang out
'Til my quick retort's quick as his
So, lighten up, Morrissey?
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, Morrissey
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, Morrissey
She won't have sex with me, no, she won't have sex
'Less it's done with a pseudonym
She won't do sport with me, no, she won't do sport
Says it's way, way too masculine, look at him
So, lighten up, Morrissey?
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, Morrissey
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, Morrissey
I got comparisons coming out my ears
And she never can hit the pause
If only Morrissey weren't so Morrisseyesque
She might overlook all my flaws
So, lighten up, Morrissey
Lighten up, lighten up
So, lighten up, Morrissey
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, Morrissey'
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, Morrissey
She won't dine out with me, no, she won't dine out
Says my T-bone steak is at fault
She won't dine out with me, no, she won't dine out
With a murderer, pass the salt
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, Morrissey
Lighten up, lighten up
I particularly like the stanza about the T-bone steak.
Meat is murder...tasty, tasty murder.
ReplyDeleteMedium rare and eaten with the hands. In the nude, by candlelight, with a bottle of good Cabernet Sauvignon. Its succulence will unleash the beast. Savor the pleasures of the flesh. Get every last bit of meat off that bone. Raise the fuckin' kundalini.
ReplyDeleteVR - Morrissey sucks mass balls
Sparks also have one about Balls.
ReplyDeleteA live performance vid is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qz24lF_DrFw
And lyrics to Balls?
Nothing too prosaic
Nothing too archaic
Here's your wakeup call
We are provocation
We are instigation
Here's your wakeup call, your second call
Balls. All you need are,
Balls. To succeed are
Balls. All you need are
Balls. All you need are,
Balls. To succeed are
Balls. All you need are
You can sting or be stung
You can fling or be flung
It's all up to you
When they're being with you
They're agreeing with you
What you say is true, it comes from
Balls. All you need are,
Balls. To succeed are
Balls. All you need are
Balls. All you need are,
Balls. To succeed are
Balls. All you need are
You can wait for saviors
Meting out their favors
You can wait and wait
Hope may spring eternal
Sounds a bit maternal
Do you want to wait, or crash the gate
Balls. All you need are,
Balls. To succeed are
Balls. All you need are
Balls. All you need are,
Balls. To succeed are
Balls. All you need are.
Others will respect you
Others will elect you
They'll accept your calls
Others will desire you
They may not admire you
But they will admit
You do transmit
Balls.
And don't forget Angst In My Pants.
Let's just go ahead and anoint Moz as The Godfather of Snowflakes.
ReplyDeleteMorrissey sure nursed himself on some great tunes. Judging from his music and lyrics, it's hard to believe that he was a fan of such ballsy and/or groundbreaking bands as the Dolls, Iggy, Patti Smith Group, the Velvets, Roxy Music and Sparks. Nevertheless, his cult remains undeniable. I did not come of age with it. And I thank the Lord for this. I've got little use for Morrissey. England didn't swing in the 1980's.
ReplyDeleteMark: re: Sparks - In the early Seventies the rumor was that the Mael Brothers had an incestuous relationship. However unfounded the gossip may have been, it added to their mystique. I remember seeing them a few times in the 1970's. First time was at the Whisky when "Wonder Girl" was getting some airplay and "Halfnelson" had just been repackaged as "Sparks."
Not long after that, me and my longtime girlfriend from Hawthorne saw them again at the Whisky. It was around the time of "Woofer." But we really didn't go for the music. My girlfriend knew a roadie for the other band that played that night. They were Three Dog Night proteges. We went to score some china white off of him. Since quality guys were scarce that night, we went to her place after the gig, fired up, and had dreamy sex. It was only my second time slamming it. For a time, we did it together regularly, but carefully, once or twice a month. It became part of our much anticipated, "special treat," sex ritual. Usually threesomes, as we shared each others boyfriends. All involved would partake and be kissed by the perfect warmth of the creator. We served him with our reason to be here.
But I digress. I also saw Sparks with Flo & Eddie and another time co-billed with an unsigned Van Halen. How weird is that?
Re: Angst in my pants/Balls - My livelihood and quasi-raison d'etre was giving guys overwhelming angst in the pants:-) That power is intoxicating, especially when it's just a prick tease. Guys may complain, but deep-down they love being denied. It means they don't have to worry about letting you down:-) Since Eve, a woman with game trumps balls. You feel me?
VR