"Fuck the establishment! Fuck you all!"
"Fuck the establishment! Fuck you all!"
"Fuck the establishment! Fuck you all!"
He sang this out a grand total of twenty-eight times. On the final recital he stretched out "Fuck you all" for a good twenty seconds, strongly emphasizing each individual word as a crescendo of drums and cymbals and guitar solos ended the tune. As the last sound faded away, Crow reached over and pushed the stop button. He looked at his boss, who seemed a bit stunned by what he'd just heard.
"It's a very powerful song," Doolittle said.
"I agree," said Bailey."
"I mean, did you hear the anger and hatred that Jake managed to convey? Not just with the lyrics themselves, but with the way he sang it. He actually sounded like he was infuriated."
"Even the instrumental sections sounded angry," Crow said.
"Who do you suppose they're so pissed off at?" asked Bailey.
"I don't know," said Crow, "but I'd sure hate to be on the receiving end of that much hostility."
"No kidding," said Doolittle. "So anyway, what do we think about it?"
"It would sell like mad if we actually released it," said Crow, "but I'm inclined to go with my first impression and reject it."
"I reluctantly agree," said Doolittle. "I mean, he must've said the word 'fuck' a hundred times. That's way more than Blackie Lawless in Fuck Like A Beast. If we actually put that on an album the censorship freaks would murder us. They'd get a law passed that only eighteen and older could buy the album and that would kill sales to a good portion of Intemperance's core audience."
"Not to mention opening the door to censorship of other albums," said Crow.
"I'm in agreement with you as well," said Bailey. "And even if we did get him to change the lyrics to 'screw the establishment' and 'screw you all', it would rob the tune of its raw power and make it sound phony."
"Well that's too bad," said Doolittle. "Maybe in a more progressive age we can use it. Let's be sure to keep in on file."
"Right," said Crow. "Shall we listen to the next one?"
Doolittle picked up the title sheet and looked at it. "Hmm," he said. "Another one by Jake. 'So Many Choices'." He nodded. "Sounds a little more reasonable."
"Jake said it's about the dilemmas we face in everyday life," Crow told him.
"Yeah," said Doolittle, "Jake is good at writing about that sort of thing. Let's hear it. If it's got the same power as that first tune, I'm sure we'll like it."
Crow pushed the play button. There was another hiss and then the song started with a standard three chord riff backed by acoustical sound from Jake and a solid piano melody.
"So far, so good," Doolittle said, liking the rhythm.
And then the singing began. Their mouths dropped as they heard it.
"I went down to the store today,"
"I needed some soup to eat."
"I like the kind in the red can."
"Easy to open, easy to heat."
"But there's a whole lot of red cans,"
"In your average grocery store aisle."
"From top to bottom, side to side."
"I knew I'd be here awhile."
"What the fuck?" said Doolittle.
Crow and Bailey both shook their heads, astounded.
There was a brief instrumental bit and then what was apparently the chorus of the tune kicked in.
"There's so many choices, too many to count."
"It's one of life's obstacles I must surmount."
"Should I go with chicken noodle, or perhaps bacon and bean?"
"Should I go with fulfillment, or the one that's healthy and lean?"
Doolittle reached over and hit the stop button. They all stared at each other for a moment.
"Am I insane," Doolittle asked, "or is he singing about picking out a can of soup in a grocery store?"
Crow licked his lips nervously. "That does sound like what he was talking about," he allowed.
"Maybe it's deep symbolism," Bailey suggested. "Jake writes like that sometimes. Maybe the soup is representing... oh... the decision of a country to go to war or not go to war."
"Symbolism in soup?" Doolittle asked. "Are you kidding?"
"That could be it," Bailey insisted. "Remember how Jake used to go on and on about all that shit happening in Beirut? Maybe the chicken noodle represents the decision to pull the marines out after the bombing. It's healthy and lean, right? But maybe the bean and bacon represents the idea of remaining committed to your ideals."
Doolittle stared at him. "I think you're a fucking idiot," he said. "The man is talking about buying soup in a grocery store. Soup!"
"Maybe we should listen to the rest of the song," Crow suggested.
Doolittle rolled his eyes and hit the play button. The song continued. The second verse was not about soup. It was about what kind of bread to buy — white or wheat, stone ground, or rye, you can't decide until you know which meat to apply.
"Fucking bread?" Doolittle growled. "What is the meaning of this, Crow? Is this a joke?"
"I don't know," Crow said. "This is the first I've heard of their submissions."
There was a bridge to the song dealing with cost versus nutrition, pleasing packaging versus quality, and the dilemma of picking out one's ingredients in order to assemble a complete meal. There was then a third verse. This one dealt with the issue of how to pick out the proper lunchmeat to go with the bread and the soup.
Doolittle hammered the stop button again. "This song is not about the fucking marines in Beirut! It's a song about going to the fucking grocery store! The grocery store! We can't put something like this on an album! It's not even good filler material!"
Crow was perplexed. "I'm not sure what the boys were thinking when they came up with that one," he admitted. "But I'll agree it's a definite reject."
"I still think it might be about Beirut," Bailey said.
They ignored him. "Let's see what the next one is about," said Doolittle, consulting the title sheet again. "Track three is called The Switch."
"That could be intriguing," Bailey said.
Crow hit the play button. The song started. They knew right away that something was terribly amiss with it. It opened with a piano solo but it was quite far from Bill's normal style. It sounded almost like a beginner trying to follow along with a song sheet — and frequently failing to do so. Then the bass kicked in. It too sounded forced and out of practice, with frequent mistakes. The lead guitar started up and it sounded downright horrible even though it was only a two-chord riff. The backing guitar sounded even worse. The drumbeat was slow and uncoordinated with the bass beat and the overall rhythm.
"This is atrocious!" Doolittle cried. "What the hell are they doing?"
The vocals started. It wasn't Jake's voice that came out of the speaker however. It was a high-pitched, reedy voice, out of key and with a flat, monotone timbre.
"Is that Bill singing?" asked Crow.
"It sounds like him," Bailey agreed.
"He's horrible at it," Doolittle said. "Why in the hell is he singing lead?"
"I think I get it," said Crow, who was perusing the title sheet. "Look at this tiny notation they added at the bottom of the sheet."
Doolittle and Bailey both had to hold the sheet very close in order to read the miniscule printing in the bottom right corner. It was in Jake's neat handwriting and read: In keeping with the spirit of the lyrics of The Switch, that song was performed with the band members swapping roles as follows. Jake Kingsley on bass guitar, Darren Appleman on lead guitar, Bill Archer on lead vocals and rhythm guitar, John Cooper on piano, and Matt Tisdale on drums.
"They swapped instruments?" Doolittle yelled. "What the hell is that about?"
"Can they do that?" Bailey asked.