Nothing to Chauffeur It
I don't know what that subject line means, so don't ask.
I've tried to tidy up Lewd, Gory and Crude, but with little success. Frankly, my heart's not in it. Part of the problem is that I have no really distinguished objection to rap music, and have been unable to feign one. True, rap lyrics are unintelligible, rap tunes aren't, the rap POV is self-important, pretentious and so not-over-itself, the subject matter is (as indicated) lewd, gory and crude, and the volume is ear-splitting. But these same objections apply equally to rock 'n' roll. So my wee effort, while seeming to be out-of-date by about ten or twenty years, is actually out-of-date by about forty or fifty years. Still, here's the latest draft, which changes all of two lines:
Lewd, gory and crude—
Rap music's foundation.
What used to be boo'd
Now rates an ovation.
Hip hop on the Hit Parade;
Rap 24/7.
What vacuous twit betrayed
Andre Previn?
Lewd, gory and crude—
That's rap, in a nutshell.
Song-plugging's become
One right-in-the-gut shell.
Here's my diagnosis, folks:
Pop music is screwed.
It's lewd, gory and
Rude, sleazy and
Crude, scuzzy and
Screwed.
Lyric © 2006 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov
No second chorus has suggested itself, beyond Tin Pan Alley in lieu of Andre Previn.
Meanwhile, a parody of Harline's Hi-Diddle-Dee-Dee (an Actor's Life for Me) has not only suggested itself, but written itself about as quickly as I can type:
George W. Bush
Has lived a life of cush:
A silver spoon in his mouth at birth;
A family with a high net worth;
And now, he's king of the bloomin' earth—
Now, that's a life of cush!
George W. Bush
Deserves to get the push.
He thinks himself a conquistador
And drags us into a distant war,
But can't explain what the war is for.
Let's give the guy the push!
George W. Bush
Can osculate my tush.
It might be you, or it might be I,
On whom his minions propose to spy;
But you can bet that it ain't Dubai.
Well, he can kiss my tush!
Lyric © 2006 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov
A word of warning: don't attempt to infer my politics from that little number. If the man's name had been "Al W. Gore," I'd have just as soon written the thing about him.
I've tried to tidy up Lewd, Gory and Crude, but with little success. Frankly, my heart's not in it. Part of the problem is that I have no really distinguished objection to rap music, and have been unable to feign one. True, rap lyrics are unintelligible, rap tunes aren't, the rap POV is self-important, pretentious and so not-over-itself, the subject matter is (as indicated) lewd, gory and crude, and the volume is ear-splitting. But these same objections apply equally to rock 'n' roll. So my wee effort, while seeming to be out-of-date by about ten or twenty years, is actually out-of-date by about forty or fifty years. Still, here's the latest draft, which changes all of two lines:
Lewd, gory and crude—
Rap music's foundation.
What used to be boo'd
Now rates an ovation.
Hip hop on the Hit Parade;
Rap 24/7.
What vacuous twit betrayed
Andre Previn?
Lewd, gory and crude—
That's rap, in a nutshell.
Song-plugging's become
One right-in-the-gut shell.
Here's my diagnosis, folks:
Pop music is screwed.
It's lewd, gory and
Rude, sleazy and
Crude, scuzzy and
Screwed.
Lyric © 2006 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov
No second chorus has suggested itself, beyond Tin Pan Alley in lieu of Andre Previn.
Meanwhile, a parody of Harline's Hi-Diddle-Dee-Dee (an Actor's Life for Me) has not only suggested itself, but written itself about as quickly as I can type:
George W. Bush
Has lived a life of cush:
A silver spoon in his mouth at birth;
A family with a high net worth;
And now, he's king of the bloomin' earth—
Now, that's a life of cush!
George W. Bush
Deserves to get the push.
He thinks himself a conquistador
And drags us into a distant war,
But can't explain what the war is for.
Let's give the guy the push!
George W. Bush
Can osculate my tush.
It might be you, or it might be I,
On whom his minions propose to spy;
But you can bet that it ain't Dubai.
Well, he can kiss my tush!
Lyric © 2006 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov
A word of warning: don't attempt to infer my politics from that little number. If the man's name had been "Al W. Gore," I'd have just as soon written the thing about him.
posted by npetrikov at 8:28 PM
1 Comments:
arnoldtheo36097355, I *do* apologize for not replying sooner, but I've been simply snowed under.
I'm a trifle hurt by your message, which seems to imply that I'm in want of a college degree. Does my poor ol' blog really seem that iggerant, as they used to say on "Our Miss Brooks"?
Never mind. I'm resolved that we shall be the very *best* of friends! (You ol' arnoldtheo36097355, you!)
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