8/28/2006

What The Fucking Christ Do YOU Know About Brian Wilson???

Yeah, dang it. I'm talking to YOU. what th' fristing frack does YOUR sorry caucasoid ass know about BRIAN fuckin' WILSON???

Huh? What the fuck does th' likes of YOU know about dark nights of the polesmokin' soul??? Yeah, huh? Voices and all sorts of shit, and being MORTALLY AFRAIND IF DON AND PHIL SPECTOR??

You deaf? LIKE BRIAN WILSON IS IN ONE EAR, HUH? What th.....

Who the fuck knows about the having of a glass eye thrust upon one by one's own dear odl DAD? Of having to take craps on a newspaper in the kitchen??? What, you know all about that, huh? Ya weisenheimer? You FUCKIN' kids today with yer Underoath and yer emo and thinkin' it wasn't something that had already been done by some Dominican monks in like eleven-oh-fuckin'-thirty.

You know all about it? About that ultimate indignity- the having to hang out with that alien pod being of evil, Mike Love? That sick, talentless, first-cousin-marryin', TM-practicin', "Kokomo" writin' bald piece of rotten gall balder? And those other shits in that god damn band like that crack-shootin' Dennis and that sick, toddling little imp whatsisname there, Alan F. Jardine? That little sniveller? I'm telling you, man. That little pissant Jardine was like th' little yappie dog runnin' alongside the big dog licking the drool as it flies from the large dog's jowells. And that other dude? Brian Jones? All shaky and riding around Chairing Cross in th' back of a chauvinist-driven Beltley?

Me? Oh, man. Guy like me knows about Brian, man. The ups, the downs. The cocoaine visions. The eight months flat in bed. The music that raps at your skull from th' inside until you have to expose your sweet madness like a flasher at a middle school. Oh, the sweet, sweet insanity. Like a drug, man. Like being tickled with a million feathers by all th' cast members in one of those BW movies with the swimming. Oh, sweet Martha mother of Wild Man Fischer it's a long, dark, lonely street, man. A street named Desire, man. In a town called Alice.

Being misunderstood, man. Guys like me and Brian. That's our cross, man. Guys like me and Brian always got a cross and it's usually genius. And th' cross of genius is pointy and sharp. What do you know about pointy and sharp, bubba? Heads don't count, bubba.

You're just going to do your thing and walk th' line and make all the payments on time and that's all very wellandfine but to fellows like me and Brian Wislone that's just not going to happen. I mean, it's not like we think of people who aren't like us as "the little people", you know? I mean, we like to walk among you and all that and get the temperature of th' populist. For our next song thing, you know? Whatever it is.

Yeah, I guess that's what it's like with guys like me and Brian. And fuckin' Bo Beist. Bo knows the visions. The visions that come unbidden and won't go away until you best them. Best them in th' night. And you try to maintain and you're all in the studio at 4 AM for 50 hours straight. Brain Wilstone and Bo Beist and me?

And Rob Thomas.

The four of us? Like wraiths? Sweeping in and out of the emotional pulse of our times? Ears to the ground, eyes to th' sky? Four Norsemen of the Apothecary? It's almost like we're blood, man. Beacuse nobody else knows the trouble we have and the walking th' razor's edge and the heat. When hearts are on fire, man- people get burned. When the heat's on the street there's not much a simple man can do but try his best and that.

No, no simple man can understand. Just Brian Phillips and Bo Beist and Rob Thomas and me and Joey Macintire from Th' New Kids?

The nights? They're long nights. It's like you're some kind of weird sentinel when you're like Brian deSoto or Bo Beist or Rob Thomas or Joey Macintire or me. It's like, in a strange way, you've been entrusted wit hthe entire future of the race and it's, like, up to you to help them find the Good Ways, the New Ways.

And the New is always built from bits of the old, we five understand that.

You don't have to worry, see. You're fine. You'll walk in the sun and share the love of herth and himily and you'll have us to spin you to sleep with our visions, our music, our philosophy. LIke five stars in the sky we burn bright and hot, bright and hit in the nirthern firminnent. Me and Brian Wilson and Bo Beist and Rob Thomas and Joey Macintire.

And Davey Jones.





















13 Comments:

Blogger helmut said...

The Dominican order began in the 1300s, ya weisenheimer.

1:16 AM  
Blogger fgfdsg said...

You FUCKIN' kids today with yer Underoath and yer emo and thinkin' it wasn't something that had already been done by some Dominican monks in like eleven-oh-fuckin'-thirty.

It's lines like this that make me so very glad I tune in each day. Write your damn book already!

Shit, imagine being Davey Jones.

1)You don't have to play a fucking note. The best musicians money can buy effortlessly cooking the song into high gear and hitting the peaks the way session men can, making the simplest shit ring to the sky.

2) You don't have to write the songs: you've got Goffin / King and Boyce / Hart and Neil Diamond dumping quality in your lap. Daydream Bloody Believer to croak off-keyedly all the way through.

3) All the teenage girls in the country want to fuck you. What a hard life, hey. Shit, now he's probably got all these horny MILF's still chasing him.

I've just come to the conclusion that Davey Jones is the biggest fucking fucker in the entire fucking fucked-up universe. Oh, that cunt! I don't want to be the bloody Beatles, Davey Jones man, Davey Jones.

Oh, and you know the shittiest part of my life Bobby? I get the musical genius depression and the madness and the darkness, and the turd of a life that makes you want to create beauty and escape through music, and the waking up at 2 in the morning with melodies in my head, and hearing bloody symphonies in there, and i'm not blessed with the slightest ounce talent to *recreate a note*. Think about that for a moment, my good man.

It's like seeing a picture of the Venus De Milo perfectly formed in your head, then trying to shape it out of fine, dry sand, guaranteeing every attempt is an exercise in frustration and disappointment.

You're cursed and blessed. I just got the cursed.

Fucking Davey Jones. Number one one A List For Would-Be Stalkers right there.

1:57 AM  
Anonymous Pinko Punko said...

AG always slags off Brian Wilson. She even slagged him off while slagging off Michael McDonald the other day while talkign about how Steely dan weren't as sucky as she thought they would be.

I think Al Jardine might actually be a good guy. He had the Wilson Girls and some others and they were doing shows as "Beach Boys and friends" or something and they were playing some of the non-Mike Love machine songs until Mike Love came down and gorilla stomped their asses.

4:22 AM  
Blogger roxtar said...

How about Moby? I bet Moby knows the pain. Imagine having to splice the same fuckin' tape loop together over and over and over and over again. The suffering of Prometheus was like getting a blowjob from a cheerleader compared to the agony only Moby can suffer. The Horror! The Horror!

7:11 AM  
Blogger Kevin Wolf said...

We all know the sound of Brian Wilson in both ears.

What is the sound of Brian Wilson in one ear?

7:13 AM  
Anonymous Adorable Girlfriend said...

Shut up Pinko! AG gives UC a hard time about stuff because after all, he's MY boyfriend -- not yours! I do believe I was the one who went to the SMiLE concert, not you, last year to understand the talents of what Mr. Wilson has to offer. I also seem to remember that it was me, not you, who had a Carl Wilson youtube posted a while ago. So whatever. Maybe if your blog wasn't so sad, you'd get the humor and genius of being AG. I may not totally understand Brian, but I respect what he offered music. I am not going to be some arm chair warrior who sits around and judges but has no talent of her own. That is just wrong. I will however, give my boyfriend a hard time because that's what I do. I will also be a fulsome now and again on the blogs.

Furthermore, if you have anything more to say, send an e-mail. Don't bother Bobby and the good commenters of this here lovely blog.

Appologies to Mr. Wilson and Bobby for this interuption.

Bobby, thanks for reminding us kids that we need to be thankful for musicians when they were just that and what they offered -- not the "artists" of today.

9:25 AM  
Blogger Highlander said...

Lyin in bed. Just like Brian Wilson did.

Yeah, yeah, I like the Barenaked Ladies. This with the Seger confessions should really get me placed high on the Put The Bullet Here (pointing to back of skull) List.

Ring a bell and I'll salivate. Whatchu think about that?

10:28 AM  
Blogger Bobby Lightfoot said...

See, Helmut? Th' god damn younger generation taking credit for what came before.

Simon- drugs! Drugs and more drugs!

Pinko- it is Love who must die th' slowest.

'xtar- Moby. Moby knows. Th' pain of being such a damn *handsome* innovator. Breakin' new ground every day and *still* having to fend of th' legions. Jesus. Can't believe I forgot Moby. He's like th' Moped Rider Of Th' Apocalypse.

Kevin- It's all mono, baby.

Grillfiend- mraow! When you all fight it's so clearly sublimated crushes, man. Nobody's fooled. Fulsome on, baby.

highlander! I like naked ladies too! W/ vaginas and all. We have so much in common it's almost scary. You give me a naked lady and I'll stay in bed like Brian Wislone too.

4:12 PM  
Blogger Butchieboy said...

What is a Beltley?

7:47 PM  
Blogger Bobby Lightfoot said...

Dude- don't worry about Beltleys. Your fuckin' Hawkwind video rules my ass is what rules my ass. Clearly you Belong.

8:33 PM  
Blogger The Viscount LaCarte said...

I heard Michael Bolton is going to do a classics duets album, and he is working on getting the rights to "God Only Knows" so he can sing along with Brian Wilson. I also heard Yoko is thinking of letting him duet with John on "Julia."

Let's keep our fingers crossed.

8:50 PM  
Blogger Bobby Lightfoot said...

Oh, isn't that special. If Bolton duets with Lennon on Julia I will duet with Mark Chapman for an encore.

9:16 PM  
Blogger roxtar said...

Coincidentally, Boing Boing links to the studio recording of the "Help Me, Rhonda" session in which Murry Wilson (Brian's father) reveals his true, bat-shit crazy, bull-goose looney, drama queen alky personality, at one point reminding Brian, "I'm a genius, too."

It's must see MP3!

4:44 AM  

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