This post over on Scooter Talk got me thinking about one of my current favorite songs.
Barry has had more than his fair share of pot shots from the press. They all say the same thing so a fan has to wonder if they're just passing the same review around and around amongst themselves and changing the name of the record/concert venue/whatever to make their job easier.
Toby Keith's album, Shock'n Y'all, has a cute little deep cut that just sums up everything you've ever thought about a critic in a few simple lines. The lyrics are below but it just doesn't do the song justice. It's not a stereotypical "Country" song. The bass line is a 6-string accoustic, the percussion is simple finger-snaps and there's some sparse piano to complement the rhythmic spoken-word verses. So I guess "song" is the wrong word, but I digress....
The whole piece expresses a casual, bemused disdain! Imagine a child a little too big for his britches trying to create some mischief because he can and when he's busted by the real grownups they have a choice between pitying the poor kid, or laughing at him. Laughing offers the wayward child a slightly greater remnant of dignity.
So check it out on iTunes and cough up the 99 cents for it - I promise it won't disappoint! Whenever we fans run across a bad Barry review past or present, this will put the whole thing in perspective!
The Critic
(Tell it like it is!)
He gets up real early on his morning drive
Down to the office for his 9 to 5
He drives a '94, two-tone economy car
Loves to tell the local bands down at the bar
that he's The Critic
(Yeah, I can hook you up! I know everybody... in the business!)
He flunked Junior High Band
He couldn't march in time
He tried to write a song once
But he couldn't make it rhyme
He learned 2 or 3 chords on a pawn-shop guitar
He just never quite had what it took to be a star
So he's A Critic
(I work for the Gazette, man. I got a reeeeeaaaallllll job!)
He did a 5-star column on a band you never heard.
He did a bluegrass review without an unkind word.
He thought it was time to ask his boss for a raise
His boss said, "I can't even tell if anyone's reading your page."
So he thought.
And he thought a little more.
He caught a young, hot star headed into town
And then he hid behind his typewriter and gunned the boy down
Here come the letters, the emails the faxes
They raised him to twenty thousand dollars AFTER taxes!
He's a happy critic!
(Yeah! He's rollin' in the dough!
Man, I could do this forever! This is easy!
They're all reading my column!)
(Please don't tell my mom that I write the music column for the Gazette
She still thinks I play piano down at the Cathouse)
Barry has had more than his fair share of pot shots from the press. They all say the same thing so a fan has to wonder if they're just passing the same review around and around amongst themselves and changing the name of the record/concert venue/whatever to make their job easier.
Toby Keith's album, Shock'n Y'all, has a cute little deep cut that just sums up everything you've ever thought about a critic in a few simple lines. The lyrics are below but it just doesn't do the song justice. It's not a stereotypical "Country" song. The bass line is a 6-string accoustic, the percussion is simple finger-snaps and there's some sparse piano to complement the rhythmic spoken-word verses. So I guess "song" is the wrong word, but I digress....
The whole piece expresses a casual, bemused disdain! Imagine a child a little too big for his britches trying to create some mischief because he can and when he's busted by the real grownups they have a choice between pitying the poor kid, or laughing at him. Laughing offers the wayward child a slightly greater remnant of dignity.
So check it out on iTunes and cough up the 99 cents for it - I promise it won't disappoint! Whenever we fans run across a bad Barry review past or present, this will put the whole thing in perspective!
The Critic
(Tell it like it is!)
He gets up real early on his morning drive
Down to the office for his 9 to 5
He drives a '94, two-tone economy car
Loves to tell the local bands down at the bar
that he's The Critic
(Yeah, I can hook you up! I know everybody... in the business!)
He flunked Junior High Band
He couldn't march in time
He tried to write a song once
But he couldn't make it rhyme
He learned 2 or 3 chords on a pawn-shop guitar
He just never quite had what it took to be a star
So he's A Critic
(I work for the Gazette, man. I got a reeeeeaaaallllll job!)
He did a 5-star column on a band you never heard.
He did a bluegrass review without an unkind word.
He thought it was time to ask his boss for a raise
His boss said, "I can't even tell if anyone's reading your page."
So he thought.
And he thought a little more.
He caught a young, hot star headed into town
And then he hid behind his typewriter and gunned the boy down
Here come the letters, the emails the faxes
They raised him to twenty thousand dollars AFTER taxes!
He's a happy critic!
(Yeah! He's rollin' in the dough!
Man, I could do this forever! This is easy!
They're all reading my column!)
(Please don't tell my mom that I write the music column for the Gazette
She still thinks I play piano down at the Cathouse)
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