I’m a get up soon in the mornin’
I believe I’ll dust my broom
I’m a get up soon in the mornin’
I believe I’ll dust my broom
I’ll quit the best gal, I’m lovin’
Now my friends can get in my room
I’m gonna write a letter, gonna call every town I know
I’m gonna write a letter, telephone every town I know
If I don’t find her in Mississippi
She be in East Monroe I know
And I don’t want no woman
Want every downtown man she meets
No I don’t want no woman
Want every downtown man she meets
Man, she’s a no good doney
They shouldn’t allow her on the street, yeah
I believe, I believe my time ain’t long
I believe, I believe my time ain’t long
I ain’t gonna leave my baby
And break up my happy home
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: James Elmore / Robert Johnson
Beyond his vocals, melodies and arrangements, there is a certain sense of the absurd about John as a performer that is reminiscent of the American rock stars of the mid-1950s.
Only someone with that wild, uninhibited view of his music would dare ask the audience to sing along — something that is almost never done anymore — or drop to his knees, like Jerry Lee Lewis used to do, in a rousing piano finale on “Burn Down the Mission.” It worked wonderfully well.
Don’t you never let one woman rule your mind
Don’t you never let one woman rule your mind
Said she keep you worried, troubled all the time
Don’t you think your fairer was li’l and cute like mine
Don’t you wish your fairer was li’l and cute like mine
She’s a mar- She’s a married woman,
But she comes to see me all the time
Don’t you never let one woman rule your mind
Don’t you never let one woman rule your mind
Said she keep you worried, troubled all the time
Well I got a letter mama and you ought to hear it read
Well I got a letter Lord and you ought to hear it read
If you comin’ back baby now be on your way”
MEAT PUPPETS: Monsters (SST) Supposedly a combination of their two 1988 albums (a mirage omelet, thanks a lot), this is really the guitar-god record Curt Kirkwood always had in him–on all but a couple of cuts the arena-rock bottom that’s an interview fantasy for those who haven’t caught them on a ZZ Top night powers his chunky riffs and psychedelic axemanship. What’ll keep them from turning into plutonium is the utterly unmacho vocals, brother harmonies making even “Party Till the World Obeys” and the one that begins “Tie me up/Get it right” seem like critiques of power, which is what they are–psychedelic in the nicest way yet again. A MINUS
MEKONS: Rock ‘n’ Roll (A&M) If you love rock and roll (which is possible even if you slum the spelling with apostrophes), but don’t think Rock and Roll (much less Rock ‘n’ Roll) a propitious title right now, you could love this album, which takes their love-hate relationship with America to the bank. Musically, it’s rock and roll despite the fiddles sawing louder than ever, almost as Clashlike as the promo claims, with Steve Goulding bashing away louder than ever too. Lyrically, in great song after great song, rock and roll is devil’s-breath perfume, capitalism’s “favourite boy child,” a commodity like sex, a log to throw on the fire, a “shining path back to reconquer Americay.” Are they implicated? Of course. Do they love it? Yes and no. A
EDDIE MURPHY: So Happy (Columbia) The failure of this wicked Prince rip to scale the charts reminds us once again how difficult it is for defiant outsiders to fracture pop stereotypes. Murphy will never be El DeBarge, but he’s perfect for cartoon funk, and over the years his wheedling croon has gotten serious. Maybe the problem is that his sexual urges still don’t emanate from very deep inside. Often, in fact, they’re inspired by his bathroom reading–he’s big on locations, spends an entire song convincing her to do it in a chair. Inspirational Dialogue: She: “Are you close?” He: “If I get any closer I be behind you.” B PLUS
PIXIES: Doolittle (4AD/Elektra) They’re in love and they don’t know why–with rock and roll, which is heartening in a time when so many college dropouts have lost touch with the verities. You can tell from the bruising riffs, the rousing choruses, the cute little bass melodies, the solid if changeable beat. But not from any words they sing. They’ll improve in direct relation to their improved contact with the outside world. Getting famous too fast could ruin them. B PLUS
GERMAN ORIGINAL LYRICS
Two, three, four
Eins, zwei drei
Na, es is nix dabei
Na, wenn ich euch erzähl’ die G’schicht’
Nichts desto trotz,
Ich bin es schon gewohnt
Im TV-Funk da läuft es nicht. –
Jah, sie war jung,
Das Herz so rein und weiß
Und jede Nacht hat ihren Preis,
Sie sagt: “Sugar Sweet,
Jah’ got me rapp’in to the heat!”
Ich verstehe, sie ist heiß,
Sie sagt:”Baby, look,
I miss my funky friends,”
Sie meint Jack und Joe und Jill.
Mein Funkverständnis,
Ja, das reicht zur Not,
Ich überreiss’, was sie jetzt will. –
Ich überleg’ bei mir,
Ihr’ Nas’n spricht dafür,
Währenddessen ich noch rauch’,
Die Special Places sind ihr wohlbekannt,
Ich mein’, sie führt ja U-Bahn auch.
Dort singen’s:
“Drah’ Di net um, oh oh oh
Schau, schau, der Kommissar geht um! oh oh oh
Er wird Dich anschau’n
Und du weißt warum.
Die Lebenslust bringt Di um.”
Alles klar, Herr Kommissar?
Hey man, wanna buy some stuff, man?
Did you ever rap that thing Jack?
So rap it to the beat!
Wir treffen Jill and Joe
Und dessen Bruder hip
Und auch den Rest der coolen Gang
Sie rappen hin, sie rappen her
Dazwischen Kratzen’s ab die Wänd’. –
Dieser Fall ist klar,
Lieber Herr Kommissar,
Auch wenn Sie and’rer Meinung sind:
Den Schnee auf dem wir alle
Talwärts fahr’n,
Kennt heute jedes Kind.
Jetzt das Kinderlied:
“Drah Di net um, oh oh oh
Schau, schau, der Kommissar geht um! oh oh oh
Er hat die Kraft und wir sind klein und dumm
Dieser Frust macht uns stumm.”
“Drah Di net um, oh oh oh
schau, schau, der Kommissar geht um! oh oh oh
Wenn er Dich anspricht
Und du weißt warum,
Sag eahm
Dein Leb’n bringt Di um.”
ENGLISH TRANSLATION
Two, three, four
One, two, three
Well, it doesn’t matter
Well, when I tell you the story
None the less,
I’m quite used to it
It won’t be running in TV-Funk (magazine). –
Yes, she was young,
Her heart so pure and white
And every night has its price.
She says: “Sugar Sweet,
ya got me rappin’ to the heat!”
I understand, she’s hot,
She says: “Baby, you know,
I miss my funky friends,”
She means Jack and Joe and Jill.
My understanding of funk,
yeah, it’ll do in a crunch,
I understand what she wants now. –
I think it over,
Her nose does the talking,
While I continue to smoke,
She knows the ‘Special Places’ very well;
I think she takes the metro, too.
There they’re singing:
“Don’t turn around, look, look,
the Kommissar is out and about!
He’ll keep his eye on you
and you know why.
Your zest for life will kill you.”
All right, Mr. Commissioner?
Hey man, wanna buy some stuff, man?
Did you ever rap that thing Jack?
So rap it to the beat!
We meet Jill and Joe
And his bother hip
And also the rest of the cool Gang
They rap to, they rap fro
In between they scrape it off the walls. –
This case is clear,
Dear Mr. Commissioner,
Even if you have a different opinion:
The snow on which we all
ski downhill,
every child knows.
Now the nursery rhyme:
“Don’t turn around, look, look,
the Kommissar is out and about!
He has the power and we’re little and dumb;
this frustration makes us mum.”
“Don’t turn around, look, look,
the Kommissar is out and about!
When he talks to you
and you know why,
tell him:
‘Your life is killing you.'”
The songs create an approximate storyline of events in the life of the protagonist, Pink (who is introduced in the songs “In the Flesh?” and “The Thin Ice”), a character based on Syd Barrett as well as Roger Waters, whose father was killed during the Second World War. Pink’s father also dies in a war (“Another Brick in the Wall (Part 1)”), which is where Pink starts to build a metaphorical “wall” around himself. Pink is oppressed by his overprotective mother (“Mother”) and tormented at school by tyrannical, abusive teachers (“The Happiest Days of Our Lives”). All of these traumas become metaphorical “bricks in the wall” (“Another Brick in the Wall (Part 2)”). The protagonist eventually becomes a rock star, his relationships marred by infidelity, drug use, and outbursts of violence. He finally becomes married and is about to complete his “wall” (“Empty Spaces”). While touring in America, he brings a groupie home after learning of his wife’s infidelity. Ruminating on his failed marriage, he trashes his room and scares the groupie away in a violent fit of rage. (“One of My Turns”). As his marriage crumbles (“Don’t Leave Me Now”), he dismisses everyone he’s known as “just bricks in the wall” (“Another Brick in the Wall (Part 3)”) and finishes building his wall (“Goodbye Cruel World”), completing his isolation from human contact.
Hidden behind his wall, Pink becomes severely depressed (“Hey You”) and starts to lose all faith (“Vera”). In order to get him to perform, a doctor medicates him (“Comfortably Numb”). This results in a hallucinatory on-stage performance where he believes that he is a fascist dictator performing at concerts similar to Neo-Nazi rallies (“The Show Must Go On”), at which he sets brownshirts-like men on fans he considers unworthy (“In the Flesh”). Upon realizing the horror of what he has done (“Waiting for the Worms”), Pink becomes overwhelmed and wishes for everything around him to cease (“Stop”). Showing human emotion, he is tormented with guilt and places himself on trial (“The Trial”), his inner judge ordering him to “tear down the wall”, opening Pink to the outside world (“Outside the Wall”).
The album turns full circle with its closing words “Isn’t this where …”, the first words of the phrase that begins the album, “… we came in?”, with a continuation of the melody of the last song hinting at the cyclical nature of Waters’ theme.
[–]mrsuns10 2136 points 3 hours ago
You can’t play Another Brick in the Wall Part 2 without playing The Happiest Days of Our Lives first
[–]zeroblitzt 1745 points 3 hours ago
This, to me, is the true distinction of a real “classic rock” radio station.
[–]walterpeck1 749 points 3 hours ago
I forgot for a long time that they’re two different tracks because the stations growing up always played them both (because of course).
Do you remember the last busker you saw on the tube? There’s a chance they remember you. If you had any kind of interaction with me, I would. If you smile, wave, cover your ears or sing along, I’ll record it.
One such notable interaction occurred at Leicester Square on a Saturday afternoon during a bog-standard rendition of Bruno Mars’s The Lazy Song. It has a catchy chorus which is preceded by the line, “I said it ’cause I can!”.
Just as I started the “…I can”, I noticed a huge group of school kids approach my busking pitch, staring with huge grins on their faces. As they approached, I watched in slow motion as their mouths opened. They all took deep breaths and in a moment my one-man performance was joined by a chorus of voices in perfect sync and harmony and we became an unexpected choir right there on the Underground.
How did Bowie get that distinctive sound on Heros?
“… Visconti set up three separate microphones around Tonstudio 2. The first was placed where one would expect it to be: six inches or so in front of where Bowie stood to sing. The other two were positioned around 15 and 20 feet further back, in order that they might take advantage of the excellent acoustic properties of the studio itself. Visconti placed noise gates on both of these, setting them so that they would only open – and thus become active – when Bowie’s voice reached a certain volume. The result of this marvellous innovation was that, in a single take, his voice could shift from a warm intimacy to a distant wail. And it is this, alongside the unparalleled power of Bowie’s vocal delivery, which lifted Hero’s up from its status as merely a great song to the realm of all-time classic.” Thomas Jerome Seabrook