This is one of my fav ever ILX posts- I don't even remember what thread it's from, I think it's by Sterling Clover, anyway, I saved it in a word doc:
Rosa: Yo! SPD Raps! We cold chillin' with the phattest act since Fourier cleaned his gatt backwards. Give it up for Karl Marx!
(Crowd of huddling starving women in rags and grimey men and children fresh from the dye factory go nuts. Karl strides out, smoking a phatty cigar.)KM: What's My Flow of Accumulation? M! C! M! What's My Flow of Accumulation? M! C! M! / Yoyo boys and girls, we tha workers of the world / revisionists they try ta bite me / but they don' wanna fite me / or i'll primitive accumulate / with my down-ass thirty-eight / you want excitement / get this shit started / welcome to the Paaar-ty!
(Small child cries out from the back of the audience)
kid: yo karl, you're flow is weak.
(Audience begins to jeer, and holler)
KM: I'm the type of k*k* / built to rock tha mic... oh fuckit (slinks offstage)
(Liebknecht runs out to try to quiet the crowd, but fails)
Audience: We want Bernstien! We want Bernstien! We want Bernstien!
(not quite historically accurate, but you get the idea)
― Daniel_Rf (Daniel_Rf), Friday, 18 April 2003 12:07 (twenty-two years ago)
As Nick Cave smoked his last cigarette before entering onstage to recite poetry from his book on theology, he already knew what would happen. He could already hear the audience laugh at him. He could already hear the shouts of "word to yo momma!" echoing across the venue. And all just because of one blasted flop album. Why didn’t they remember his earlier work? Why didn’t they remember his ten years of leading The Birthday Party to Goth glory? It was all Hammer's fault, he thought.
But how could he have known? How could he have known that the inclusion of one single person could have ruined his whole reputation? He couldn’t have.
It was 1992. Cave had just left The Birthday Party and was looking around for a new group. Kylie Minogue would be part of it, that was for sure. He had fallen in love with her ever since he had hear her sing her multi-million selling hit "The Loco Motion", a cover of a classic tune by Charles Manson. She had looked so godlike in her dark Siouxsie make-up and black clothing.
But what about the rest of the group? He had thought. After all, despite Minogue's virtuosity at her Gibson guitar, he still needed a bass and a drummer. He refused to use a drum machine. Partly due to that sounding too New Wave, but mostly due to his extreme dislike of all technology. He never watched TV back home down under. He never listened to the radio, he never used an electric shaving machine, heck, the only electrical toy he ever used was a toaster. Besides that, he slept calmly in his old shed, surrounded by pets such as his faithful kangaroo Skippy and the lazy koala Dungeroo. He had led many a wacky adventure with these two pals, mainly involving alcohol abuse and redneck driving, but that’s another story entirely.
Anyway, he and Kylie had been dining at The Ruined Castle, a fashionable Goth restaurant in downtown New Jersey. Bruce Springsteen had held a concert there a few weeks ago, and Cave had marveled at how great Springsteen's energy still was. He saw it as a sign, not because the show had inspired him in any way (how could it have? he had wanted to go to the bathroom the whole time), but because he had to. After all, if it was good enough for Peter Gabriel and U2, why shouldn’t it be good enough for him to take as a sign that he needed to get himself together?
So there had sat, eating his scrambled eggs (his favourite food) and just, you know, thinking. But something had caught Kylie's attention.
It was a black man. Not older than 30, not younger than 22. Relatively tall. Not too fat. Cave wondered why his description of this man sounded much like a police report, and eventually decided it must’ve been the author's fault.
The man had glasses. Huge glasses, one would say, and curiously pink. He wore a nylon red t-shirt, blue jeans and Adidas. Normally not the kind of individual you’d see at The Ruined Castle, but his copy of "The Modern Afro-American's Guide To Hedonism" and the fact that "God Is Dead" was written on his t-shirt had let him in. Somehow there was something weird about the situation, though Cave couldn’t exactly place it. Alas, Nick Cave was a man ruled by his instincts, and so he invited the man to sit at his table.
"You Nick Cave?" asked the man, notably excited.
"Yes" Nick Cave answered, and why should he have answered anything else? "No, I’m the lost member of The Pet Shop Boys" would’ve insulted Kylie, and there was no way he could get anyone to believe that he was, indeed, Prince (even though he was, but that’s another story).
"I’m a great fan of your work, Mr. Cave" the man answered " MC Hammer is my name, and Goth is my Game". After saying that, he did a short break-dance routine that made Kylie laugh so hard she had to spill her Chianti all over the table.
"I like this boy" Nick thought to himself "he seems very insecure, deranged and full of complexes. This is just the kind of person I need for my new band, The Bad Seeds."
"So, Hammer" Nick Cave began, then taking a sip of Budweiser "do you play any instruments?"
"No, Sir" Hammer answered, cursing the fact that his Southern accent was beginning to show "I'm a rapper"
"A rapper, eh?" Cave mused. He had always been interested in b-boy culture and Rap music. In fact, he would begin every morning to, while shaving, sing "Mamma said knock you out, fooh! I’m gonna knock you out, fooh!", which always drove Kylie mad.
"So, are you in any group right now?"
"No, Sir"
"Drop that "Sir" stuff, Hammer. Just call me Symbol"
An uncomfortable silence sank in.
"Err...I mean, Nick. Look, Hammer, I’m forming a new band, The Bad Seeds. Would you like to join?"
"Would I ever?" MC Hammer shouted, jumping of joy.
And so he had let MC Hammer join The Bad Seeds. But he was still without both bassist and drummer. Alas, Hammer also miraculously took care of that situation. Not the way Cave would have liked it, but by that point Hammer had already become so close with Kylie that Nick dared not protest. Besides, the bassist, one Mickey "The Killer" Mouse was not a man you would like to piss off. A burly sailor, Mickey would frequently show up drunk, crying for mommy, while he was really supposed to be playing bass. Much to his surprise, however, Cave and Hammer had managed to convert him into a plain Goth in a matter of weeks. Mind you, the make-up still made his friends laugh at Mickey when he went down to the harbor, but he didn’t seem to mind. He just ate a can of spinach and got on with it. Perhaps it was that, for the first time in his life, Mickey felt like one of the guys. Perhaps this was also the reason why people joined gangs. Perhaps not.
Blixa Bargeld, however, was another matter entirely. The pale, German drummer needed not be converted to Goth ideals, but he was annoying in a different way entirely. Supposedly, Bargeld had been very big in Germany with his early 80´s group, Trio. It was not that he felt any illusions of grandeur, but Cave was still annoyed by the fact that Bargeld would unsolicitedly make "Ahah, ahah, ahah" and "Da da da" noises whenever there was a break in the vocals.
And then there was the stage show. Hammer was convinced that the show needed some hyping up, which Cave couldn’t understand: after all, the human skulls and Batman costumes in which Cave would perform were enough of a stage show, weren’t they? But there was no arguing with Hammer. And so Nick had to concede to a group of fly gals, break dancers and Ghostbusters like sound effects. At least Cave had managed to prevent the idea of a Bad Seeds cartoon. Hammer eventually agreed that this would’ve been just plain silly.
And then there was the album. Or rather, the albums. For while MC Hammer had worked with Cave, he had also made his own solo album, "Please Hammer Don’t Release The Bats". And while this became a huge hit, largely due to the impact of the single "Where The Wild Roses Grow (U Can’t Touch this)", on which Kylie sang, Cave’s album had flopped, as would all consequent ones. And, on this occasion, rightfully so. "Ice Ice Baby, It Ain’t Gonna Rain Anymore"", the lead-off single, was a disaster. Cave’s poetry had been cheapened by Hammer’s insistence that he use the words "booty shakin’" at least once in every song, and Hammer’s rap about thanking the lord made Cave lose many of his more Satanic fans. Top40 gave it no notice, "Rolling Stone" called it pretentious (MC Hammer, however, got four stars because of the fact that, as the editor would say "it sold well"), SPIN said that it wasn’t alternative enough (not as alternative as Bush, anyway) and Cave was sure "NME" had used the words "Tut tut" more than once.
After that, life had become hell. Much as he tried, Cave couldn’t re-gain his Goth status, Hammer stole his girlfriend, all subsequent albums flopped (both critically and commercially), and anyway, since Skippy had been run over by a car, Cave had run out of steam. And now he was reduced to this: playing Welsh state fairs.
Cave knew that the drunken Welsh just wouldn’t understand his poetry....after all, had they not hung James Joyce at this very venue ten years ago? It had been recorded live: "Joy Division Play...And Assorted Welsh People Shout" the record had been called, in best 50´s record covers tradition.
Nick Cave took a deep sigh and entered stage.
THE END
― Daniel_Rf (Daniel_Rf), Friday, 18 April 2003 12:39 (twenty-two years ago)