Gratuitious Boingo post!

[kleenexwoman]

So I compiled this list when I was in a very strange mood, apparently, and just found it a couple of days ago. Here are some weird, snarly, iconoclastic, misanthropic, corner-sitting, tear-it-up-and-kiss-the-shreds, snailshell songs. There is a very good reason why Oingo Boingo is my favorite band and why Danny Elfman is my favorite composer.

"Mary"
Download it!
This is the closest you will ever hear Danny Elfman get to folk music: simple guitar strumming with a huge backing orchestra. It's an apparently straightforward narrative, which is unusual for this band. Almost like a fairytale. The question, of course, is determining exactly what happened to Mary--I've heard "she got hooked on meth," "she went to a Buddhist monastery," "she got pregnant," "she had visions," "she left a religious commune to go into the real world." The answer, of course, is that whatever happened to Mary is what happened to you.

Oh Mary wasn't happy with the life that she led
She was a simple girl without much to say
So one day she just upped and left her dreary home
And she left all her friends behind to wander all alone
And at first she was afraid, she was so far away
From her home but slowly she got to like it anyway
Oh Mary won't you please come, Mary won't you please come, Mary won't you please come home...

Well in time she found that mountain that she had been taught her whole life that she must avoid
And though at first it hurt, and no one could comfort her
She finally came to appreciate it
And she liked it, she liked it - oh wasn't she surprised
And though still alone, she grew so much inside
Oh Mary won't you please come, Mary won't you please come, Mary won't you please come home...

And after a time, she became so sublime
She could look in peoples eyes and read their minds
Though her hands would sometimes bleed and occasionally
She would long for her past and the memories they bring
She decided to return to her old home town
And her heart was burning with all the things she found
Oh Mary won't you please come, Mary won't you please come, Mary won't you please come home...

So, Mary came back and at first no one recognized her face
And her friends were all a little bit afraid
When they heard what she had to say
They all slowly backed away
And her family took her aside and put their arms around her
They said Mary won't you please come back to us now
There is still time to repent for all your sins
And Mary started to cry when she realized
That she'd never come home again in her life

Oh Mary won't you please come
Mary won't you please come home...


"Why'd We Come (All This Way)"
Download it!
All this evolution stuff, was it really worth it? Despite all our apparent progress, aren't we really just monkeys with a little less hair and fancier sticks for poking termite mounds? And is this really a good thing? Should we have just backed the fuck away from that big humming monolith? Stayed in the trees?
Note the subtle ape noises in the background. I really like songs about evolution and/or monkeys.

Everyone says we've come such a long, long way
We're civilized, isn't that nice?
We've gotten so smart
We know how to blow the whole world apart
But when it comes to the simple things
(Like living together) . . . HA!

Why'd we have to come all this way
Is anything any easier to understand
Why'd we have to come all this way
Are we any smarter than primitive men
We still fall in love though we know better
Anything at all just to stay together
Stop wasting all my time

Why did we come all this way
Why did we come all this way
Why did we come all this way
Why did we come all this way

Why'd we have to come all this way
We could have quit while we were way ahead
Why'd we have to come all this way
We could have just stayed home instead
The road was long and the journey was hard
We never even dreamed that we'd come so far

It didn't have to end up like this
It didn't have to end up like this
It didn't have to end up like this
It didn't have to end up like this


"Clowns of Death"
Download it!
A scathing meditation on the dynamics of weakness, the need for power, pain and manipulation, as expressed through the metaphor of evil clowns. This metaphor is far more apt than most people realize, and not just because clowns scare the bejesus out of me anyway. God, Danny, why'd you have to pick clowns?
The Danny/Tim slash comm, clowns_de_mort, is named after this song.

I'm the one who preys upon the weakest
And the weakest always preys upon the one who's underneath
I'm the one who doesn't see the waves of human kindness or the tides that
Turn the day
I'm the one who always turns and looks away
Turns and looks away

Because after all, we are only boys
Because after all, we are only boys will be boys, will be boys, will be boys, will be boys...
Will be boys will be boys will be boys
Will be boys will be boys will be boys
Will be boys will be boys will be boys
Will be boys will be boys will be boys

I'm the one treads upon the weaker ones
Those that I can find
And there'll always be some others who could march along in line, yeah
March along in line

And, we'll move upon the world in a massive tidal wave
And we'll shout and make some noise, yeah
Shout and make some noise

The clowns of death are marching on their hideous parade
Their glaring eyes are filled with hate, but i am not afraid
Their painted faces cracked with age, their makeup old and worn
With tattered wings and toothy grins to amplify their scorn
They're looking for the helpless ones
They're looking for the misbegotten
They prey upon the weak and fractured
The crippled and the freaks of nature

And when the come upon one who's lost or is alone
Their smiles get even bigger and their noses start to glow
Making snarling sounds to pantomime with furious abandon
And with a scream they pounce to kill and all the while they're laughing

I'm the one treads upon the weaker ones
Those that I can find
And there'll always be some others who will march along in line

And we'll move upon the world in a massive tidal wave
And we'll shout and make some noise, yeah
Shout and make some noise

Your sons and daughters, innocent, lay sleeping in their beds
They'll catch them when you're not around and smash their little heads
If you think it just a dream, or that it isn't fair
Just look around outside your door, the clowns are everywhere


"Helpless"
Download it!
A wonderful auditory freak show, complete with accordian-and-calliope carnival music. Just listening to it makes me dizzy sometimes.
The lyrics are a weird mix of twisted anger and total weakness, crippled impotent rage turned sour. Danny sounds hoarse and broken and ready to give up.

Countless long nights while I stare at the wall
I ask myself over again
How did I end up in this little hell?
How did it ever begin?

Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Helpless

Helpless to turn back the clock that ticks on with its cruel shiny face
It laughs while it watches my every disgrace - I was
Born a sap - all the
Nurses laughed when they saw me the first time, they giggled and said
"This poor little monster'd be
Better off dead."

Helplessly trapped in a body I'm sure should have never been mine
I bet that my real one's
Doing just fine - and I
Don't belong here, I
Don't belong here
I should be quite rich
With a big shiny car
A house with twelve rooms
I deserve to go far!

Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Helpless

Helplessly falling in love, but does love
Really last through the night?
To love and to honor, to kick and to bite and I
Don't belong here, I
Don't belong here
It's all a mistake
I was destined for greatness
A leader, a prophet -
They're just too blind to notice!

Where did this whole silly story begin?
It seems that my mind has gone blank
I think that I've messed up a chapter or two
Perhaps it is best if I'm frank

Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Helpless

Helplessly lost like that poor chap who came for an innocent dance
He left with his brain smeared all over his pants 'cause he
Didn't belong here, he
Didn't belong here
He never should've left
That warm cage in a zoo
His face was so ugly
What else could I do?
Can you really blame me, I
Had to smash it
He left me no choice,
he was just like the others
I just had to kill him
With my poor, dear, old mother...

Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Helpless

Helplessly fucked in the ass by a legion of forty ex-cons
That's what it feels like when you walk all over me, I
Don't belong here, I
Don't belong here
Your eyes burn right through me, they fill me with fear
I could've been at home watching football, or drinking beer!

Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Helpless...


"Burn Me Up"
Download it!
Less profound, more psychosis.
Would love to see one of those hardcore screamy punk bands do a cover of this. Danny's pretty much shrieking into the mic while the guitar's shredding everything else into little bits and the saxophone is just taunting him in the background.

I would like to be a martyr
Over time it’s getting harder
Who do I have to go to kill
To get my face on a dollar bill?

Every single time I look
Someone else has beat me to it
Some poor bastard bites the dust
I really don’t know who to trust
But there’s one thing I can’t deny
I’d rather it was me they fried
Have a drink from an empty cup
Light a match and burn me up

I’m exhausted, I’m committed,
I’m outsmarted, I’m outwitted
My head’s filled with dynamite
It’s coming out of my ears at night

I think I'm being watched
Electric eyes that never turn off
Radar beams insinuating
Evil thoughts while I’m masturbating
Even my old Trinitron
Is coming through when nothing’s on
Have a drink from an empty cup
Light a match and burn me up

I would like to be a martyr
Over time it’s getting harder
Who do I have to go to kill
To get my face on a dollar bill?

Every single time I look
Someone else has beat me to it
Some poor bastard bites the dust
I really don’t know who to trust
I think I'm being watched
Electric eyes that never turn off
Radar beams insinuating
Evil thoughts while I’m masturbating
Even my old Trinitron
Is coming through when nothing’s on
But there’s one thing I can’t deny
I’d rather it was me they fried
Have a drink from an empty cup
Light a match and burn, burn, burn, burn, buuuuuuuurn...me...up...


"Insanity"
Download it!
Best song ever. Gorgeous and dark and orchestral and sad and angry and twisted and beautiful and true and creepy and scary and demented. It's like "The Wall" squished into eight minutes of even more genius.
I finally managed to watch the video for this. Dolls hurting each other and little girls in dead white dresses cutting them up and apparently-institutionalized!Danny in monkey facepaint. Disturbing as fuck.

I'm so sorry, please forgive me
Who do I pray to straighten out this problem?
Straighten out this problem, straighten out my mind
Straighten out this crooked tongue...
My mind has wandered from the straight and narrow
My mind has wandered from the flock you see
My mind has wandered, the man just said so
My mind has wandered I heard it on TV
And the flock has wandered away from me

All around the world now
Like a big bright cherry cloud
Traveling from home to home
TV sets and telephones
Here it comes just like a storm
Bathe in it and be reborn
Time to let the world know
Welcome madness, say hello...
Like a wave we cannot see
Washing over you and me
Hiding here and hiding there
Madness hiding everywhere
Such a curiosity
Here it comes to set us free
Plenty left for you and me
Say hello insanity

I am a virus, are you the cure?
I am morally, I'm morally impure
I am a disease and I am unclean
I am not part of God's well oiled machine
Christian nation, assimilate me
Take me in your arms and set me free
I am part of a degenerate elite
Dragging our society into the street
Into the abyss and to the sewer don't you see
The man just told me, he told me on TV

Do you think you're better than me
Do you want to kill me or befriend me

And the alcoholic bastard waved his finger at me
His voice was filled with evangelical glee
Sipping down his gin and tonics
While preaching about the evils of narcotics
And the evils of sex, and the wages of sin
While he mentally fondles his next of kin
My mind has wandered from the flock you see
And the flock has wandered away from me
And he waved his hypnotizing finger at me

[Chorus]

Let's imitate reality
Let's strive for mediocrity
Let's make believe we're all the same
Let's sanitize our little brains

I'd love to take you home with me and tuck you into bed
I'd love to see what makes you tick inside your pretty head
I'd love to hear you laugh tonight, I'd love to hear you weep
I'd love to listen to you while you're screaming in your sleep

Christian sons, Christian daughters
Lead me along like a lamb to the slaughter
Purify my brain and hose down my soul
White perfection, perfection is my goal

Do you think you're better than me
Do you want to kill me or befriend me

Christian nation, make us all right
Put us through the filter and make us pure and white
My mind has wandered from the flock you see
And the flock has wandered away from me

Let's talk of family values while we sit and watch the slaughter
Hypothetical abortions on imaginary daughters
The white folks think they're at the top, ask any proud white male
A million years of evolution, we get Danny Quayle

[Chorus]

I'd love to take you home with me I'd love to tuck you in
I wish I could protect you from the wages of our sin
I'd love to hear you scream tonight, I'd love to hear you cry
Protect you from the madness that is raining from the sky

[Chorus]

I'd love to take you home with me and tuck you into bed
I'd love to see what makes you tick inside your pretty head
I wish that I could keep you in a precious Chinese box
On Sundays I would pray for you so it would never stop
I'd love to hear you laugh tonight, I'd love to hear you weep
I'd love to listen to you while you're screaming in your sleep
I'd love to soothe you with my voice and take your hand in mine
I'd love to take you past the stars and out of reach of time
I'd love to see inside your mind, to tear it all apart
To cut you open with a knife and find your sacred heart
I'd love to take your satin dolls and tear them all to shreds
I'd love to mess your pretty hair
I'd love to see you dead


"New Generation"
Download it!
This reminds me of "Transmetropolitan" so much. A lot of this is like something Spider Jerusalem would say. Except with less swearing and spitting and threatening to disrupt peoples' bowels.
That, or "Brain Candy," the "Kids in the Hall" movie, the one where everybody started taking the new super-antidepressant that made them so happy they stopped moving...yeah.
Danny sounds like he's about to cry all during this song, particularly during the monologue in the middle.

People raise your voices, don't get caught in that mess
Like a fly in a spider's web, is it true more is less
Herded like a happy flock to the big T.V. slaughter
"Why don't you break that leash," said the heifer to the sheep

It's a new generation
It's a hallucination
It's a mystic vibration
It's just intimidation
It's the will of the people
It's the church with the steeple
It's the sacred devotion
To an unhealthy notion

People raise your voices, don't get into that trap
If your friends and your neighbors push
Why don't you push them back
Don't you think the time has come
To stand up and be heard
Ain't no use to try and wait
For the magic word

It's a new generation
It's an infatuation
It's a beautiful body
Both erotic and deadly
It's the fear of the future
It's just surgeons and sutures
It's a spandex obsession
It's a lasting impression

(monologue)
Do you feel the power
Do you feel the power
Baptized in electronic water
Prodigal sons and beautiful daughters
With smiles and bows and rosy cheeks
And the righteous bath
Death to the freaks
Do you feel the power
Do you feel the power
From the man whose voice sounds reassuring
Completely firm and so alluring, Like's he's lived a thousand times before
And seen the world from shore to shore
With the calmness and tranquility that oozes credibility
With the wisdom and the confidence that seem to scream out common sense
And it makes you feel just like a babe
Daddy holding you tight and safe
Hush babe everything's all right, Daddy's gonna stay with you tonight
Now he's got you by the balls, he can sell you anything at all
From morality to diamond rings to genocide to magazines
From religion to cosmology to the end of a democracy
(/monologue)

It's a new generation
It's a divine inspiration
Always ready to follow
Ever willing to swallow
All the doctor's prescriptions
All the mystic inscriptions
It's the spandex obsession
It's a lasting impression
It's the calm meditation
Of a tranquilized nation
It's a hallucination
It's a new generation


"This Vicious Cabaret" (sung by David J, written by Alan Moore)
Download it!
No, this one isn't by Danny, but it fits in with the general mood. I found it off scans_daily, where someone posted some "V for Vendetta" scans. (I really like scans_daily. Do you know how many libertarian-anarcho-paranoid superheroes there are? MORE THAN YOU THINK. The Question is only the beginning--there's Rorschach, Anarky, V, Spider Jerusalem...but I shall shut up and give you the lyrics before I get onto a rant about superheroes and fascism.

They say that there's a broken light for every heart on Broadway.
They say that life's a game, then they take the board away.
They give you masks and costumes and an outline of the story
Then leave you all to improvise their vicious cabaret...

In no-longer-pretty cities there are fingers in the kitties.
There are warrants, forms, and chitties and a jackboot on the stair.
Sex and death and human grime, in monochrome for one thin dime,
But at least the trains all run on time but they don't go anywhere.
Facing their responsibilities either on their backs or on their knees
There are ladies who just simply freeze and dare not turn away...
And the widows that refuse to cry will be dressed in garter and bow-tie
And be taught to kick their legs up high in this vicious cabaret.

At last! The 1998 Show!
The ballet on the burning stage.
The documentary scene
Upon the fractured screen
The dreadful poem scrawled
Upon the crumpled page...

There's a policeman with an honest soul that has seen whose head is on the pole
And he grunts as he fills his briar bowl with a feeling of unease.
But he briskly frisks the torn remains for a fingerprint or crimson stains
And endeavours to ignore the chains that he walks into his knees.
While his master in the dark nearby inspects the hands with a brutal eye
That have never brushed a lover's thigh, but have squeezed a nation's throat.
But he hungers in his secret dreams for the harsh embrace of cruel machines
But his lover is not what she seems and she will not leave a note.

At last! The 1998 Show!
The Situation Tragedy
Grand Opera slick with soap
Cliffhangers with no hope
The watercolor in
The flooded gallery...

There's a girl who'll push but not shove and is desperate for her father's love
She believes the hand beneath the glove is one she needs to hold.
Though she doubts her host's moralities she decides that she is more at ease
In the Land Of Doing-What-You-Please than outside in the cold.
But the backdrops peel and the sets give way and the cast gets eaten by the play
There's a murderer at the Matinee, there are dead men in the aisles
And the patrons and actors too are uncertain if the show is through
And with side-long looks await their cue, but the frozen mask just smiles.

At last! The 1998 Show!
The torch song no-one ever sings
The curfew chorus line
The comedy divine
The bulging eyes of puppets
Strangled by their strings...

There's thrills and chills and girls galore, sing-songs and surprises
There's something here for everyone--reserve your seat today
There's mischief and malarkies, but no queers or yids or darkies
Wwithin this bastard's carnival, this vicious cabaret.


I's difficult for me to concentrate on something that I don't really want to concentrate on for more than 5 or 10 minutes at a time, and if I take a few seconds out to type up a note for a song or an entry for statements, it's faster and less distracting overall than playing a quick game of Minesweeper or Tetris.
So since I've got a shitload of homework and little else to distract me, here's a challenge. Leave me a word or a topic and I'll go through my song library and find and post up to five songs pertaining to that topic.

Comments

[dr-ninjapants.livejournal.com]

thank you for posting Boingo songs! i didn't have a few of them! and the others have now been added to one of my favorite playlists which I call 'Hella Fuckin' Boingo'

though actually I only have a little over 50 Boingo songs... *needs buy more Boingo albums*

[kleenexwoman.livejournal.com]

I just downloaded a fuckton from Soulseek. This is how I got bootlegs. Current WMP count is 154 Boingo songs, counting live performances.

[remindmeofthe.livejournal.com]

Incredibly randomly: Don't you love how the settings for the bowel disrupter just get increasingly complicated and ridiculous as the series goes on?

[kleenexwoman.livejournal.com]

Yeah!

I really wanna get one of those too. Best future invention ever.

[woodburner.livejournal.com]

eldritch

[kleenexwoman.livejournal.com]

Yup.

[he-dreams-awake.livejournal.com]

Oh my fucking fucking GOD, if you could SEE what I've done with the GAME...


the video...

...the snippets...


The door to the end of the world...


holy fucking fuck...



*dies*

[kleenexwoman.livejournal.com]

I'll download the new demo and try it out tonight.

[josephwaldman.livejournal.com]

If ever we get the chance to swap music, you burn me an OB album and I'll give ya "The Dictators Go Girl Crazy!" Capeesh? (And why am I Italian all of a sudden?)

[kleenexwoman.livejournal.com]

I think that is a very fair trade. I ought to burn you a Steely Dan CD too. And maybe some discordant, atonal, ear-hurting noise. Hmm...

[josephwaldman.livejournal.com]

'Dose yo' eyes in de userpic? If so, wowza, you got the strong stare of a lifetime.

[kleenexwoman.livejournal.com]

Those're Danny Elfman's insane eyes. My stare is less incisive, more distracted, and wouldn't look as good in a disturbingly-animated music video.

[josephwaldman.livejournal.com]

Them's shamanistic eyes, nonetheless.

*Sam Phillips*. Reclusive. PG's dream of meeting Sam, his 'n' his friends's fifties fantasies: like other kids dream of being President, Joe Namath, curing cancer, "my friends and I had constructed elaborate fantasies not just about Elvis but about the man who had been the first to record Elvis, Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins . . ." As he interviewed more 'n' more people who'd recorded at Sun Records with Sam Phillips, even as they complained abt. royalty rates, the fantasy ballooned, "only fueled my vision of this behind-the-scenes Machiavellian genius who had discovered so many of the unique talents of a generation and seemingly gotten the very best out of them while they were still on his label." Finally gets to meet his Machiavell: 1978 at SP's radio station, WWEE in Memphis. Promised no more than fifteen-minute interview, talks for hours . . . PG particularly struck by contrast between all pix he'd ever seen of Sam when young "a slick-haired businessman with a sly, almost foxy smile and the slit-eyed look of Jerry Lee Lewis" and shock of seeing real older Sam now: "an Old Testament prophet in tennis sneakers, his long hair and long reddish beard only matching the oracular tone and language that came out in the cadences of a southern preacher . . . I realized as he talked that he was speaking to every fantasy I ever had abt him," that telling the story of Sun Records in Memphis in the fifties "he was telling the story of how one man, and one group, had made history."

"My mission," Sam told PG, "was to bring out of a person what was in him, to recognize that individual's unique quality and then fine the key to unlock it."

On the list of people who could easily have said exactly the same thing: Charles Manson, Captain Beefheart, Lee Strasberg, Alfred Hitchcock, Joseph Stalin. Sam Phillips, clearly, is a shaman. Was and still is. The power os the shamanistic gift is volatile, according to the nature of the gifted one himself: if he's been abused early or has an evil streak or's just a plain psychopath, then watch out; if he's fundamentally healthy and motivated by humanitarian or loving impulses, his effects on those around him, whose own talents vary wildly, though that makes no difference here, can often produce incidents, moments, occasions, personal chemistries that are absolutely magical in the strictest sense, and if we're lucky, they get recorded. -- Lester Bangs, the end of April 1980, Notes on Peter Guralnick's "Lost Highway" I was born when he wrote that piece, and it's always given me chills.

[kleenexwoman.livejournal.com]

:D You are most welcome. I think David J did a whole album of "V for Vendetta" inspired songs, but I can't find them on any program.

[beetle-breath.livejournal.com]

Want to know something weird? I was stuck on a name for the comm and somehow didn't realize where I was lifting the name from. Oops. XD

If I could, I'd ask Danny very nicely to sing a song, any song and then run away giggling with glee when he was done. He could make Happy Birthday sound fabulous.

[kleenexwoman.livejournal.com]

It must have been one of those nifty subconscious things. :D

I like imagining Danny singing little lullabies to his young Mordrid. Perhaps he'll release a CD of them. Mmm, yes.

[beetle-breath.livejournal.com]

I thought it was Oliver? XD I can only see Tim's kid and Danny's kid sitting in a play room with the older one (I can't remember) acting like Wednesday Adams and the younger one being conned into playing Persecute the Spaniard or Behead the Queen of France.

[kleenexwoman.livejournal.com]

Was it? I missed that, I suppose; I'd heard Mordrid. Oliver's only a slightly less weird name.
And do you know, I wasn't even aware that Tim had kids. O_O I'd love to babysit those children. "Put down the matches, there is NOT a carnivorous skeleton monster under your bed, no matter what your daddy told you."

[beetle-breath.livejournal.com]

Tim's baby is Billy, I think he might be the older one.

Haha, that would be an interesting experience.

[tophet-perish.livejournal.com]

suggestion words:

A Modest Proposal

Greek Tragedy

Dia de Lost Muertos