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.