Fun Stuff > BAND
Favorite lyricists?
ImRonBurgundy?:
--- Quote from: DynamiteKid ---4. Rivers Cuomo
'there's the pitch
slow and straight
all i have to do is swing
and i'm a hero
but i'm a zero'
Weezer - Perfect Situation
Discordant melodies, odd chord progressions, a muddy guitar tone and some of the quirkiest, most worrying and most interesting lyrics I've ever heard.
--- End quote ---
WHAT.
just kidding, dude. Rivers Cuomo was a damn good lyricist before he forgot how to write songs.
mysteriousbriefcase:
--- Quote from: tommydski ---
--- Quote from: mysteriousbriefcase ---oh, and conor oberst. i mean, his lyrics are so brilliant. /sarcasm
--- End quote ---
i'm actually going to defend oberst despite the fact i don't like his music a whole lot. simply for performing this song on syndicated television in america -
--- Quote from: conor oberst ---"When The President Talks To God"
--- End quote ---
whether or no these are 'good' lyrics doesn't really matter to me.
the fact that he is saying what the killers or panic at the disco are not is admirable.
--- End quote ---
i'll give him props for that, but conor oberst's lyrics as a whole (mostly for bright eyes, i kinda dig the desaparecidos) get on my nerves.
edgyswingsetacid:
penny rimbaud, from crass:
--- Quote ---I am no feeble Christ not me. He hangs in glib delight upon his
cross, above my body. Christ forgive. FORGIVE? I vomit for you
Jesu. Shit forgive. Down from your cross. Down from your papal
heights, from that churlish suicide petulant child. Down from
those pious heights, royal flag bearer, goat, billy. I vomit for you.
Forgive? Shit he forgives. He hangs in crucified delight nailed to
the extent of his vision, his cross, his manhood, violence, guilt,
sin. He would nail my body upon his cross, suicide visionary,
death reveller, rake, rapist, lifefucker, Jesu, earthmover Christus,
gravedigger, you dug the graves of Auschwitz, the soil of
Treblinka is your guilt, your sin, master, master of gore, enigma.
You carry the standard of your oppression. Enola is your gaiety.
The bodies of Hiroshima are your delight, the nails are your only
trinity, hold them in your corpsey gracelessness, the image I
have had to suffer. The cross is the virgin body of womanhood
that you defile. You nail yourself to your own sin. Lame arse Jesus
calls me sister there are no words for my contempt, every
woman is a cross in his filthy theology, his arrogant delight. He
turns his back upon me in his fear, he dare not face me.
Fearfucker. Share nothing you Christ, sterile, impotent, fucklove
prophet of death. You are the ultimate pornography, in your
cuntfear, cockfear, manfear, womanfear, unfair, warfare, warfare,
warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare.
Jesus died for his own sins, not mine.
--- End quote ---
mike kinsella, whose every written word to me is genius, but for our current purposes, i choose these:
--- Quote ---Well, just between you and me
I don't know what I'm doing here
In your room, close to you
Full of shit and free beer
My brother, the bartender
I tip him well, and I drink for free
Well, he takes good care of me; he takes care of me
Anyway, I'm here
I'm a bicycle; I'm too tired to ride home
If it's okay with you, can I take off these shoes, stay the night
Well, just between you and me
This thing between you and me
Might not be anything worth singing about
Or it might be just what I need
Someone to take my mind off things
At the end of a long day
Someone to take my pants off for me
At the end of a long night
Either way, we're here
We're two bicycyles, ridden, too tired to know
Which one of us two
Was dumb enough to choose the other as a lover
--- End quote ---
other good ones are:
joe queer (the queers)
brandon tussey (a radio with guts/the connie dungs)
paul simon, and
phil elverum.
logosmonkey:
Hmm I don't think anyones said it so I will
Shane McGowan
--- Quote ---One summer evening drunk to hell
I stood there nearly lifeless
An old man in the corner sang
Where the water lilies grow
And on the jukebox johnny sang
About a thing called love
And its how are you kid and whats your name
And how would you bloody know?
In blood and death neath a screaming sky
I lay down on the ground
And the arms and legs of other men
Were scattered all around
Some cursed, some prayed, some prayed then cursed
Then prayed and bled some more
And the only thing that I could see
Was a pair of brown eyes that was looking at me
But when we got back, labeled parts one to three
There was no pair of brown eyes waiting for me
And a rovin a rovin a rovin Ill go
For a pair of brown eyes
I looked at him he looked at me
All I could do was hate him
While ray and philomena sang
Of my elusive dream
I saw the streams, the rolling hills
Where his brown eyes were waiting
And I thought about a pair of brown eyes
That waited once for me
So drunk to hell I left the place
Sometimes crawling sometimes walking
A hungry sound came across the breeze
So I gave the walls a talking
And I heard the sounds of long ago
From the old canal
And the birds were whistling in the trees
Where the wind was gently laughing
And a rovin a rovin a rovin Ill go
For a pair of brown eyes
--- End quote ---
Hmm also Johnny Cash
--- Quote ---
Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.
I'd smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and songs I'd been picking.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playing with a can that he was kicking.
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken.
And Lord, it took me back to something that I'd lost
Somewhere, somehow along the way.
On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.
In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl that he was swinging.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs they were singing.
Then I headed down the street,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing,
And it echoed through the canyon
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.
On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.
--- End quote ---
ImRonBurgundy?:
--- Quote from: edgyswingsetacid ---brandon tussey (a radio with guts/the connie dungs)
--- End quote ---
I LOVE YOU.
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