... V1
All my lazy teenage boasts
Are now high precision ghosts
And they're coming 'round the track to haunt me
When she looks at me and laughs I remind her of the facts
I'm the king of rock 'n' roll completely
Up from suede shoes to my baby blues
... V2
The dream helps you forget you ain't never danced a step
You were never fleet of foot, hippy
All the pathos you can keep for the children in the street
For the vision I have had is sweeping
New broom, this room, sweep it clean
... V3
Now my rhythm ain't so hot, but it's the only friend I've got
I'm the king of rock 'n' roll completely
All the pretty birds have flown, now I'm dancing on my own
I'm the king of rock 'n' roll completely
And I'm up from suede shoes to my baby blues
...
... C1 (main)
Hot dog, jumping frog, Albuquerque
...
... C2 (refrain)
High kickin' dandy, fine figure fine cut a fine figure fine, oh yeah
Long legged candy, fine figure fine cut a fine figure fine, oh yeah
...
...
...
So, in V1, some stuff he wrote and sang long ago has been worked into a well-oiled machine, he's kind of tired of it, it took off, now he can't escape it, but, hey, it made him a lot of money and got him a lot of status and fame. He holds onto that and sort of bitterly asserts it whenever someone - possibly his partner - thinks he's a bit corny. "Suede shoes" and "Baby blues" are sort of stock images of a rock icon. Elvis' "Blue Suede Shoes," and, I dunno, "blue eyes" as a stereotypically attractive Western (read: ... eek) feature. If it means "up from" in the sense of "started from the bottom," uh... I dunno? Maybe he means he brought his own spin to rock 'n roll? So he's not creatively empty, but commercially succesful, not really?
V2. Speaks to me. "The dream" is what bubblegum-manufacturers like he create for consumption as escapist fantasy. In this case, it's maybe a washed-out, burnt-out hippy? Or maybe it's a dig at someone who fancies themselves counter-cultural and rebellious by one of their "capitalist overlords," sneeringly reminding them that their self-concept and ideals are as much of an idle fantasy as the bubblebum creation they get (profitably, at least for the creator and the "business") lost in. The Speaker here is more interested in a specific creative vision of a higher order than just putting his heart on his sleeve and pouring it out and throwing it against the wall and seeing what sticks, like he did in his earlier works. He wants to "sweep clean" what currently constitutes his ouevre and do something new - or maybe it's something more cynical or sinister? Some dark, far-reaching vision he's now had from the vantage point his earlier succeses allowed him to reach? Echoes uncomfortably with the "baby blues" line from earlier - oh, no - he's gone Nazi, like Pink from Pink Floy'd film of 'The Wall!' Get me Geldof!
V3. Oh, nope - nevermind, it didn't go anywhere. Whatever vision he had, it didn't coalesce, or he's too dissipated by the absurd luxuries he can now afford. Either way, he's neutralized, but - you know, did what he did. Has some accomplishments you can never take away. And that's fine. Better than getting weird and fascey and high on the cult of his own personality. Eh?
C1 (main) is straight-up absurdist, surreal - something like that. "Hot dog!" is a folksy exclamation, a "jumping frog" is... Cool? Maybe the Speaker thinks so. "Albuquerque?" Beats me. Maye the frog is a Warner Bros. thing and "Albuquerque" is a reference to Loony Tunes' Bugs Bunny's "left turn at Albuquerque" bit? That bit is about getting ludicrously lost - so, maybe? Or maybe it's just an exclamation, a random thing he likes, and a random, sort of ridiculous, word that fits the remaining musical space? He can have whatever he wants, however ludicrous it is, because it sounds good in a song, and he can afford it? Hence the butler-frog, the dancing hot dogs, and the sexy diver who reminds me a bit of Rocky from 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show?' Nice little obvious film manipulation of his gesture to be the visual equivalent of the synthesizer (I think) line. Also, there's a Mark Twain short story, "The Jumping Frog of Calaveras County" which is sort of about tall-tale-telling and reputation and waffle and stuff. That's sort of a staple of the mainstream American cultural canon (at least it came up in my American Lit class in high school and one I took in college).
C2 is just a riff on lookin' pretty.
...
There's always a bit of avant-garde, Modernist, etc., dissembling and mixing-it-up with Paddy McAloon, as I understand it. Thing about that is there'll be chunks of poetry you can read sort of traditionally mixed in with some seemingly random, open-to-interpretation stuff that you can't really pin down. The point is to interpret. This helps keep things fresh - clean, clear, and vital - like fresh, opened, unclogged arteries, so we can all think and breathe fully and be really as alive as we can be. I used to say "Avant garde is just a genre, like any other genre. You take a 'normal' work of art, then throw random shit in there, now it's avant garde. There's no 'next level' or 'new art' that's better than art was before to get it. It's not like medical science, where new cures need to be found and there's vertical progress. There's no up or down in art - it just keeps going, around and around and around." I was bitter and disillusioned, and wrong ; not uncommon bedfellows, those qualities. Things get stale. Hollow. Wasteful. Numb. Bad, dangerous, toxic and inhumane ideas come to dominate. It's good to shake it up, "sweep it clean," once in a while. Gotta watch, though - whose mouth are these words coming out of? Could get creepy. Or not. Need specifics.
... V1 All my lazy teenage boasts Are now high precision ghosts And they're coming 'round the track to haunt me When she looks at me and laughs I remind her of the facts I'm the king of rock 'n' roll completely Up from suede shoes to my baby blues ... V2 The dream helps you forget you ain't never danced a step You were never fleet of foot, hippy All the pathos you can keep for the children in the street For the vision I have had is sweeping New broom, this room, sweep it clean ... V3 Now my rhythm ain't so hot, but it's the only friend I've got I'm the king of rock 'n' roll completely All the pretty birds have flown, now I'm dancing on my own I'm the king of rock 'n' roll completely And I'm up from suede shoes to my baby blues ... ... C1 (main) Hot dog, jumping frog, Albuquerque ... ... C2 (refrain) High kickin' dandy, fine figure fine cut a fine figure fine, oh yeah Long legged candy, fine figure fine cut a fine figure fine, oh yeah
... ... ...
So, in V1, some stuff he wrote and sang long ago has been worked into a well-oiled machine, he's kind of tired of it, it took off, now he can't escape it, but, hey, it made him a lot of money and got him a lot of status and fame. He holds onto that and sort of bitterly asserts it whenever someone - possibly his partner - thinks he's a bit corny. "Suede shoes" and "Baby blues" are sort of stock images of a rock icon. Elvis' "Blue Suede Shoes," and, I dunno, "blue eyes" as a stereotypically attractive Western (read: ... eek) feature. If it means "up from" in the sense of "started from the bottom," uh... I dunno? Maybe he means he brought his own spin to rock 'n roll? So he's not creatively empty, but commercially succesful, not really?
V2. Speaks to me. "The dream" is what bubblegum-manufacturers like he create for consumption as escapist fantasy. In this case, it's maybe a washed-out, burnt-out hippy? Or maybe it's a dig at someone who fancies themselves counter-cultural and rebellious by one of their "capitalist overlords," sneeringly reminding them that their self-concept and ideals are as much of an idle fantasy as the bubblebum creation they get (profitably, at least for the creator and the "business") lost in. The Speaker here is more interested in a specific creative vision of a higher order than just putting his heart on his sleeve and pouring it out and throwing it against the wall and seeing what sticks, like he did in his earlier works. He wants to "sweep clean" what currently constitutes his ouevre and do something new - or maybe it's something more cynical or sinister? Some dark, far-reaching vision he's now had from the vantage point his earlier succeses allowed him to reach? Echoes uncomfortably with the "baby blues" line from earlier - oh, no - he's gone Nazi, like Pink from Pink Floy'd film of 'The Wall!' Get me Geldof!
V3. Oh, nope - nevermind, it didn't go anywhere. Whatever vision he had, it didn't coalesce, or he's too dissipated by the absurd luxuries he can now afford. Either way, he's neutralized, but - you know, did what he did. Has some accomplishments you can never take away. And that's fine. Better than getting weird and fascey and high on the cult of his own personality. Eh?
C1 (main) is straight-up absurdist, surreal - something like that. "Hot dog!" is a folksy exclamation, a "jumping frog" is... Cool? Maybe the Speaker thinks so. "Albuquerque?" Beats me. Maye the frog is a Warner Bros. thing and "Albuquerque" is a reference to Loony Tunes' Bugs Bunny's "left turn at Albuquerque" bit? That bit is about getting ludicrously lost - so, maybe? Or maybe it's just an exclamation, a random thing he likes, and a random, sort of ridiculous, word that fits the remaining musical space? He can have whatever he wants, however ludicrous it is, because it sounds good in a song, and he can afford it? Hence the butler-frog, the dancing hot dogs, and the sexy diver who reminds me a bit of Rocky from 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show?' Nice little obvious film manipulation of his gesture to be the visual equivalent of the synthesizer (I think) line. Also, there's a Mark Twain short story, "The Jumping Frog of Calaveras County" which is sort of about tall-tale-telling and reputation and waffle and stuff. That's sort of a staple of the mainstream American cultural canon (at least it came up in my American Lit class in high school and one I took in college).
C2 is just a riff on lookin' pretty.
...
There's always a bit of avant-garde, Modernist, etc., dissembling and mixing-it-up with Paddy McAloon, as I understand it. Thing about that is there'll be chunks of poetry you can read sort of traditionally mixed in with some seemingly random, open-to-interpretation stuff that you can't really pin down. The point is to interpret. This helps keep things fresh - clean, clear, and vital - like fresh, opened, unclogged arteries, so we can all think and breathe fully and be really as alive as we can be. I used to say "Avant garde is just a genre, like any other genre. You take a 'normal' work of art, then throw random shit in there, now it's avant garde. There's no 'next level' or 'new art' that's better than art was before to get it. It's not like medical science, where new cures need to be found and there's vertical progress. There's no up or down in art - it just keeps going, around and around and around." I was bitter and disillusioned, and wrong ; not uncommon bedfellows, those qualities. Things get stale. Hollow. Wasteful. Numb. Bad, dangerous, toxic and inhumane ideas come to dominate. It's good to shake it up, "sweep it clean," once in a while. Gotta watch, though - whose mouth are these words coming out of? Could get creepy. Or not. Need specifics.
Anyway, them's the thoughts of cows.