Crow nodded. He didn't give a rat's ass what the song was about, as long as people would like it. "Do you think it has potential for release as a single?"
"It's more than that," Matt said. "I think it might take a Grammy next year."
Crow liked the sound of that indeed. He looked at the rest of the titles, seeing nothing that reached out and touched him in any way. He wished they had remembered to bring the lyric sheets so he could get a better idea of what was waiting for him. Oh well. What could you do? At least they remembered the cassette and that was the important part.
The band finished their drinks and then said their goodbyes. Crow, feeling magnanimous now that he had the tape in his possession, told them to take the next two days off and relax.
"Thanks, Stevie," Matt said. "We'll do that. I think another fishing trip is in order."
"I think I'll just get drunk," said Jake.
"And I'm going to get back on CompuServe," said Bill. "You wouldn't believe what you can do on there."
"CompuServe?" asked Matt, shaking his head. "You still playing around with that nerdy shit?"
"I'm a nerd," said Bill. "What else should I do?"
"So you like that service?" asked Crow, who had authorized the software purchase and the monthly charges when Bill had requested it two weeks ago.
"Oh yes," Bill replied. "It's the wave of the future."
"Wave of the fucking future," Matt scoffed. He looked at Crow. "Nerdly here thinks that in the next ten years every fucking computer in the world is going to be connected together and that we'll be able to send mail to each other that way, and pay our fucking bills, and get porn."
"Get porn?" asked Jake.
Bill nodded solemnly. "Historically the pornography industry had been quick to take advantage of fledgling technology and, in a few cases, has even contributed to the technology's success. Look at photography. No sooner had the camera been invented that the first nudie magazines and adult nickelodeons came into existence. Look at the movie camera. Before they even developed practical audio coordination for the technology sex films were circulating via the black market. And with the computer, my guess is that pornography will be what drives the success and makes it a global phenomenon. Nobody will admit they signed up for CompuServe or this new service that's coming out, Prodigy, for the pictures of naked women, but that's why they'll be doing it."
"Well now you're talking my language, Nerdly," Matt told him. "When it gets to the point that I can turn on my computer and pull up a beaver shot at will, you let me know. That's when I'll join the technological revolution."
"Agreed," said Bill.
They left Crow's office a minute later, still chatting about the pros and cons of computer porn and at what point they could expect to start encountering it. The second the door closed behind them Crow got on the phone to Doolittle. "I got the tape," he said. "They forgot to give me the lyric sheets but I'll make copies of the title sheet."
"Good," his boss responded. "I'll get Bailey and we'll meet in my office in twenty minutes to give these tunes a listen."
The second the elevator doors closed on them, Bill, Jake, and Matt started cracking up. It went on for the better part of thirty seconds, a much-needed release after twenty minutes of fighting to keep straight faces.
"Oh man," said Matt as the elevator reached the lobby level and they headed for the doors. "You were killin' me in there, Jake. A fucking 'examination of the dilemmas we're faced with on a daily basis'? Jesus Christ."
"Well, that is what the song is about," Jake said, causing another round of laughter to erupt.
"I'd love to be a fly on the wall of that office when he listens to that tape for the first time," Bill said.
"You ain't shittin'," Matt agreed. "The shock may just kill him."
"But remember," warned Jake. "This was a 'good faith' effort to produce music for the next album. They'll be calling us on this within the next two hours and they're really going to be throwing the accusations around. No matter what happens, no matter what they say, we cannot admit that this was anything less than our best efforts. If we do, the whole good faith concept comes crashing down and they can get a judge to hammer us."
"Fuck the establishment, huh?" said Doolittle as he perused his copy of the track sheet for the first time.
"Well... yeah," said Crow apologetically. He was plugging a boombox into the electrical outlet next to Doolittle's desk. "I'm a little leery of that one, song unheard. Unless it's absolutely ground-breaking in some way, I'm inclined to think that including it on the album — even as a filler tune not intended for airplay — would be more trouble than its worth. Those censorship groups are already sniffing up Intemperance's ass pretty hard. Putting a song with the word 'fuck' in the title might just give them the ammo they need to get some sort of a legal ruling in favor of their goals."
"I agree," Doolittle said. "But still, let's give it a listen. Maybe it is groundbreaking."
"And even if its not," said Bailey, "maybe we can get them to change the lyrics to 'screw the establishment', or something like that."
"Good luck on that," Crow said sourly. He was a veteran of many battles with Jake and Matt over the subject of their songs and so far, they had given him nothing more than an ulcer.
Crow put the cassette into the boombox and closed the door. After a check to make sure it was properly rewound (it was) he pushed play. A slight hissing came out of the speakers and then the lead-in to the song began. It was a bass intro, starting slow and gradually picking up tempo. As with all of the recordings the band had given them in the past, the quality was quite impressive considering the primative equipment that had been utilized to make it.
"So far, so good," Doolittle said as the bass reached top intensity and Matt's guitar sounded in. He ground out a furious, fast-paced opening riff and then settled in to what seemed the main riff, with Jake backing and Bill chiming in just between them. And then Jake's voice began to sing, the tone angry and hateful.
"There comes a time when you have to say,"
"Fuck this shit, I'm doin' it my way."
"There comes a time when you have to say,"
"Fuck this shit, I'm doin' it my way!"
"Wow," said Doolittle, as he listened to this opening verse sung over and over again. "That's pretty harsh, isn't it?"
"And what's with the repetitive lyrics?" asked Bailey. "I thought Jake and Matt both hated that formula?"
Jake sang the opening verse a total of twelve times while the guitars and the piano ground out an angry, spiteful, repetitive, but strangely appealing melody. At last, the tempo slowed down and the lyrics changed to a different style, though no less angry.
"You fucked with me, you fucked me hard."
"For my sense of worth, you've no regard."
"You cheat me blind, you exploit my name."
"My hopes and dreams, you set aflame!"
After this there was a pounding, heavy metal instrumental session followed by a transition back to the main riff and what was apparently the main verse — the line about there comes a time when you have to say, fuck this shit, I'm doin' it my way! This was repeated another twelve times and then there was a guitar solo lasting almost a minute. After this, another verse.
"So fuck you all, time to do it my way."
"Get out of the palace, it's Bastille Day!"
"Fuck the establishment! Fuck you all!"
"I'll see your heads on spikes on the wall!"
From there, the tempo picked up again, the guitars grinding in a dual riff, the drums pounding, the piano keys being hammered. And Jake was now screaming the same lyrics over and over.