You bitchez ready for a post longer than Ron Jeremy's c*ck? Well good. Because this post is longer than Ron Jeremy's c*ck.
Any other bits of bat trivia would be welcome.
Bats are deathly allergic to me beating the f*ck out of them with a trash-can lid that one time in Pennsylvania when that bat got in the kitchen.
I don't love opinions that are stated as if they are fact but I suppose we're all guilty of that from time to time. I’m thrilled you care, and so I don’t mind spending some time caring back.
I see how you cleverly avoided stating your opinion about opinions as fact. Your reputation as a wordsmith, sir, is not undeserved. Like Barack Obama, you lead our nation forward into the future on a magic carpet of clever verbal trickery.
Lyrics? I can speak on that subject better because I was the lyricist. I stand behind every syllable and would change nothing. Reviewers who have been critical of the record seem to have a lot of really aggressive nasty things to say about who they think I am with very little to say about the music. The most recent one actually just came out and called me an assh*le and suggested I see a shrink! Not even a pretense of a review.
You notice how many of these people criticize the album for being "too angry"? It's one of the Rolling Stone talking points that every other review in the industry is required to recite verbatim before/if they plan on saying anything original. What the hell happened to rock music that makes reviewers think it isn't supposed to be angry? Have Regina Spektor and Death Cab For Cutie completely neutered rock, to the point that we can't even remember that the Sex Pistols and The Clash used to be the saviors of rock
because they were angry?
Whatever. Dude, don't apologize for being angry, bitter, cynical, or any other negative emotion. They're valid feelings, and if they have a home anywhere, it's rock music. Used to be, the critics knew that and respected it. Apparently we're not allowed to be pissed anymore. Not when indie-rock means chicks that sing like retarded four-year-olds and guys singing like they shoved a peeled lemon up their ass and jacked off with Icy-Hot.
not failing to mention all their least favorite parts of my past albums while they were at it.
Well I don't want to be left out of that crowd. The last three songs on Silverman sucked.
I hit a nerve is seems and I don't even understand the nerve I hit!
Rock isn't supposed to be personal, emotional, or raw in any way. Try to be more like Nickelback on your next album: fake, calculated, manipulative, trendy, neutered, and focus-grouped. You see, you need to trade your realistic song about demeaning women ("Bitch Went Nuts") for a fake, disgusting, chauvinistic song about demeaning women ("Figured You Out"). And you need to throw out the ironic musings about being successful in America ("Free Coffee") in favor of endless self-masturbation about success in America ("I Wanna Be A Rock Star"). Reject your serious examinations of what's wrong with America ("Frown Song") and replace them with mindless sub-pop drivel that would shame Bono for simplicity ("If Everyone Cared"). And finally, don't bother with the kind of serious introspection that you've been putting on your albums ("Effington"), not when you can do a cheesy power ballad about drinking or wisdom or whatever the hell ("This Is How You Remind Me"). Critics, who are only doing that job because they're emotionally stunted and got too many swirlies in high school, don't want to be forcibly exposed to serious, real emotionality or sincerity, because those are ideas they'll never fully understand (and most don't want to.) So do them a favor: write a bullshit pop-rock record next time. You've already out-boy-banded the boy-bands with "Girl," and out-Broadwayed Broadway with "Morgan Davis". Can you out-Nickelback Nickelback? My money's on YES.
So its possible that there's more to the lyrics than meets some eyes, even if its not your cup of tea.
Totally. Anyone who doesn't see the existentialist meditation of "Errant Dog" is a moron. (I'm cool because I can pretend to get things!)
Effington has been called an ‘angry tirade‘ aimed at middle America (I hate freedom?!).
Dude, don't be ashamed of that. I hate freedom too. Freedom=Paris Hilton. Unfreedom=the highly successful socialist governments of Cuba, Australia, Canada, and much of Europe. Unfreedom for the win, dawg.
I was on a bus with a youth orchestra traveling through Poland during the cold war and kept wondering what my life would be like if I were to slip off the bus at a truck stop and disappear into some random village and learn Polish... The concept isn’t too damn deep, but certainly nothing near a “tirade”.
So tell me Ben, why do you hate Poland? You got a problem with "the heartland of Europe"? Are they too real for you and your rock-star ways? You and your twelve houses and fancy cars and bling bling?
Don't you look at a town when you're passing it and just once wonder how many of the buildings are concealing full on mating rituals?
F*ck that, I go in and check.
Anyway, the mayor of Effingham has a sense of humor since he’s promised me my very own plot in the graveyard!
If you are, in fact, buried in Effingham, I will, I assure you, be effing on your grave shortly afterwards. (Too far? Across the line? I don't think so. Not to the guy who REDEFINED ANGER IN ROCK MUSIC BY PUTTING "c*nt" ON A RECORD!)
The character in Dr Yang isn't kicking ass and taking names across the medical profession.
Who thought Dr. Yang was about kicking medically-professional asses?
Isn’t life sad and funny at the same time?
That's deep. Here, take another hit of the joint.
Its a pretty desperate situation when you’re so tortured and obsessed that you'll sit in your own piss for 18 hours.
Not if you're a bat regulating body temperature!
Its also the kind of thing you might notice in a paper and wonder if your soul mate who's far away has seen it too.
Jesus, I hope not. I don't want her getting ideas about driving from Maryland to Kansas to kill me in a diaper.
But I'm not trying to be Weird Al.
Hey, you know that dude, right? Could you try and coax him to focus more on original songwriting than parodies? I really like his original songwriting better. I understand if our friendship hasn't developed to the point at which you feel comfortable doing that for me, being as how we don't know each other at all, and we're not "friends" so much as "people typing on the internet", and I'm basically just an a**hole fan, but if the opportunity comes up, you know, like in a conversation with the guy, just think about mentioning it.
God I could go on about each song.
Please do. Even to the point of being late for a show. Seriously, I don't give a f*ck if you're ten minutes late to some show in Bayonne or Bozeman or Lewistown or whatever dirtball burg gets the pleasure of your company next. And while you're at it, what's the story behind "Philosophy" from the first Ben Folds Five album? This dude keeps asking me, and I keep telling him I don't know. It's seriously undermining my credibility.
Still, that's a very small part of the album and if music means anything in the equation I feel like the record is just about energy.
Yeah man! In all seriousness, it's the best one since the first Ben Folds Five album. This album (and the fake one) turned me from a casual Ben Folds fan into a rabid Ben Folds fan that hangs out on this message board. So, for me, at least, you made a great record. So hey: good job dude, and thanks.
Louis looked pretty deflated and put the toys down because he didn't want to be uncool. Damn shame.
Yeah. Wow. What a downer.
I don't know if you actually read these replies or not, so maybe I just typed a bunch of sh*t for my own benefit, but it was cathartic for me (I had a bad week.) But if you are reading:
is Brainwascht about Fleming and John? C'mon, dude, you know you wanna say who it's about. What's the use in publicly telling a wickedly embarrassing story about someone cheating on their wife in the basement in 1994 if you can't let everyone else in on it?