29 June 2006
♥ making excuses
Maybe I use the world "sellout" too liberally. (Actually, I guess there isn't much I don't do pretty liberally.) But I use it a lot, as far as musicians go. If your band plays at the Pepsi Center in the middle of the summer, I'll call you a sellout. If you do a commercial for Victoria's Secret, Coca-Cola, or any other bigwig corporation, in my book, you are a sellout. Multivolume autobiographies? Sellout. Appearances on American Idol? Sellout. Movie cameos, product endorsement, songs about how America is going to kick everyone else's ass: all stink of sellout.
But here's the thing: there are a few artists in the world from whom I seem wholly unable to detach myself. I managed to walk if off last fall when I saw Bob Dylan cozying up to a lingerie-clad model and muttering something about being classy, something which I found to be profoundly ironic for the star of a new line of Vic's commercials. I'm even beginning to cope with the fact that The Last DJ, Tom Petty's "please-don't-sell-out" album, was, in fact, his sellout album. (In two days I'm going to see him at the Pepsi Center, and I'm hoping he'll do something to dispel my fears.)
Now, indie snob that I am, I find it to be perfectly acceptable when I hear a Belle and Sebastian tune in an indie flick. But a Pixar film?
I loved Over the Hedge. I giggled uncontrollably at all the right parts, and there was even a joke about amphibians, whose ongoing battle with reptilia I happen to feel very strongly about. In fact, I especially enjoyed the soundtrack.
Oh, I said, as the opening credits began to roll, this is Ben Folds! I adore Ben Folds!
Wait, what?
By the end - after hearing a slightly revamped version of "Rockin' the Suburbs" - I was beginning to feel a little queasy.
Doesn't it seem like selling out to change the lyrics of a perfectly anti-establishment song in order to please a few soccer moms? And selling yourself to a major movie production company? And just how much is he making off this movie, anyway?
But then I remembered something: it's Ben Folds. I can't give up on him quite yet.
So I listened to the words.
Compare the original version...
But here's the thing: there are a few artists in the world from whom I seem wholly unable to detach myself. I managed to walk if off last fall when I saw Bob Dylan cozying up to a lingerie-clad model and muttering something about being classy, something which I found to be profoundly ironic for the star of a new line of Vic's commercials. I'm even beginning to cope with the fact that The Last DJ, Tom Petty's "please-don't-sell-out" album, was, in fact, his sellout album. (In two days I'm going to see him at the Pepsi Center, and I'm hoping he'll do something to dispel my fears.)
Now, indie snob that I am, I find it to be perfectly acceptable when I hear a Belle and Sebastian tune in an indie flick. But a Pixar film?
I loved Over the Hedge. I giggled uncontrollably at all the right parts, and there was even a joke about amphibians, whose ongoing battle with reptilia I happen to feel very strongly about. In fact, I especially enjoyed the soundtrack.
Oh, I said, as the opening credits began to roll, this is Ben Folds! I adore Ben Folds!
Wait, what?
By the end - after hearing a slightly revamped version of "Rockin' the Suburbs" - I was beginning to feel a little queasy.
Doesn't it seem like selling out to change the lyrics of a perfectly anti-establishment song in order to please a few soccer moms? And selling yourself to a major movie production company? And just how much is he making off this movie, anyway?
But then I remembered something: it's Ben Folds. I can't give up on him quite yet.
So I listened to the words.
Compare the original version...
Let me tell y'all what it's like
Being male, middle-class and white
It's a bitch, if you don't believe
Listen up to my new CD
(Sha-mon)
I got shit runnin' throught my brain
It's so intense that I can't explain
All alone in my white-boy pain
Shake your booty while the band complains
I'm rockin' the suburbs
Just like Michael Jackson did
I'm rockin' the suburbs
Except that he was talented
I'm rockin' the suburbs
I take the checks and face the facts
As some producer with computers fixes all my shitty tracks
I'm pissed off but I'm too polite
When people break in the McDonald's line
Mom and Dad you made me so uptight
I'm gonna cuss on the mic tonight
I don't know how much I can take
Girl, give me something I can break
I'm rockin' the suburbs
Just like Quiet Riot did
I'm rockin' the suburbs
Except that they were talented
I'm rockin' the suburbs
I take the cheques and face the facts
That some producer with computers fixes all my shitty tracks
In a haze these days
I pull up to the stop light
I can feel that something's not right
I can feel that someone's blasting me with hate
And bass
Sendin' dirty vibes my way
'Cause my great great great great Grandad
Made someones' great great great great Grandaddies slaves
It wasn't my idea
It wasn't my idea
Never was my idea
I just drove to the store
For some Preparation-H
Y'all don't know what it's like
Being male, middle-class and white
Y'all don't know what it's like
Being male, middle-class and white
Y'all don't know what it's like
Being male, middle-class and white
Y'all don't know what it's like
Being male, middle class and white
It gets me real pissed off, it makes me wanna say
It gets me real pissed off and it makes me wanna say
It gets me real pissed off and it makes me wanna say
FUCK!
Just like Jon Bon Jovi did
I'm rockin' the suburbs
Except that he was talented
I'm rockin' the suburbs
I take the cheques and face the facts
That some producer with computers fixes all my shitty tracks
These days
Yeah yeah
I'm rockin' the suburbs
Yeah yeah
I'm rockin' the suburbs
Yeah yeah
You'd better look out, because I'm gonna say 'Fuck'
You'd better look out, because I'm gonna say 'Fuck'
You'd better look out, because I'm gonna say 'Fuck'
You'd better look out, because I'm gonna say 'Fuck'
...to the Over the Hedge remix.
Let me tell y'all what it's like
Watching Idol on a Friday night
In a house built safe and sound
On Indian burial grounds
(Sha-mon)
We drive our cars everyday
To and from work both ways
So we make just enough to pay
To drive our cars to work each day
We're rocking the suburbs
Around the block just one more time
We're rocking the suburbs
Cause I can't tell which house is mine
We're rocking the suburbs
We part the shades and face the facts
They got better looking Fescue
Right across the cul de sac
Hotwheels take rising stars
Get rich quick seminars
Soap opera magazines
40,000-watt nativity scenes
Don't freak about the smoke alarm
Mom left the TV dinner on
Yet we're rocking the suburbs
From Family Feud to Chevy Chase
We're rocking the suburbs
We numb the muscles in our face
We're rocking the suburbs
Feed the dog and mow the lawn
Watching mommy balance the checks
While daddy juggles credit cards
We're rocking the suburbs
Everything we need is here
We're rocking the suburbs
But it wasn't here last year
We're rocking the suburbs
You'll never know when we are gone
Because the timer lights come on
And turn the cricket noises on each night
Yeah, yeah, we're rocking the suburbs
Yeah, yeah, we're rocking the suburbs
Watching Idol on a Friday night
In a house built safe and sound
On Indian burial grounds
(Sha-mon)
We drive our cars everyday
To and from work both ways
So we make just enough to pay
To drive our cars to work each day
We're rocking the suburbs
Around the block just one more time
We're rocking the suburbs
Cause I can't tell which house is mine
We're rocking the suburbs
We part the shades and face the facts
They got better looking Fescue
Right across the cul de sac
Hotwheels take rising stars
Get rich quick seminars
Soap opera magazines
40,000-watt nativity scenes
Don't freak about the smoke alarm
Mom left the TV dinner on
Yet we're rocking the suburbs
From Family Feud to Chevy Chase
We're rocking the suburbs
We numb the muscles in our face
We're rocking the suburbs
Feed the dog and mow the lawn
Watching mommy balance the checks
While daddy juggles credit cards
We're rocking the suburbs
Everything we need is here
We're rocking the suburbs
But it wasn't here last year
We're rocking the suburbs
You'll never know when we are gone
Because the timer lights come on
And turn the cricket noises on each night
Yeah, yeah, we're rocking the suburbs
Yeah, yeah, we're rocking the suburbs
They sound the same, except the kid-friendly version replaces its use of "fuck" with some help from William Shatner. Seriously.
I was a little disappointed every time I tried to sing along and found myself hollering about Quiet Riot while Mr. Folds sang about not being able to tell which house was his.
And then it hit me: you're not selling out if the songs you rewrite still have the same meaning.
It's still pretty anti-establishment; the biting sarcasm is still there. It's not just a slightly diluted version of its former profanity-ridden self.
So I guess I'm okay with it. If he wanted to do a soundtrack, he picked an excellent movie to record it for. If a younger generation wants to experience the joys of Ben Folds without having their mommies confiscate their stereos, I guess I can't, in all fairness, deny them that.
Bob Dylan can't exactly use the same excuse.
I was a little disappointed every time I tried to sing along and found myself hollering about Quiet Riot while Mr. Folds sang about not being able to tell which house was his.
And then it hit me: you're not selling out if the songs you rewrite still have the same meaning.
It's still pretty anti-establishment; the biting sarcasm is still there. It's not just a slightly diluted version of its former profanity-ridden self.
So I guess I'm okay with it. If he wanted to do a soundtrack, he picked an excellent movie to record it for. If a younger generation wants to experience the joys of Ben Folds without having their mommies confiscate their stereos, I guess I can't, in all fairness, deny them that.
Bob Dylan can't exactly use the same excuse.
6/29/2006
