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The Mothers of Invention




Music World  →  Lyrics  →  T  →  The Mothers of Invention  →  Albums  →  Ahead of Their Time

The Mothers of Invention Album


Ahead of Their Time (1993)
1993
1.
Prologue
2.
3.
Like It or Not
4.
5.
6.
Holiday in Berlin
7.
8.
9.
10.
Epilogue
11.
King Kong
12.
13.
Transylvania Boogie
14.
Pound for a Brown
15.
16.
17.
18.
The Orange County Lumber Truck (Part 1)
19.
Oh No
20.
. . .

Prologue

[No lyrics]

. . .


Bunk: Hey, put that down!
Art: What are you doin', man?
Don: SILENCE, you fools! Don't you believe in PROGRESS?
Bunk: Take that progress and stick it under a ROCK.
Don: We must overthrow the diatonic system.
Art: Bullshit.
Don: We're coming to the beginning of a NEW ERA wherein the development of the inner self will be the most important factor.
Ian: Donnie, your music is full of shit, and besides that it ain't disciplined.
Don: Listen...
Bunk: Give me four-four.
Art: Togetherness.
Bunk: Yeah.
Ian: Some old melodies.
Don: Look, playing...
Art: Put on a tie!
Don: Playing that kind of music and eating meat will never... you'll never be able to see my aura then.
Art: I've seen your aura a lot, and it really stinks.
Bunk: You've been drinking, Don.
Ian: I can hear your aura and it's bad, man.
Don: Listen, there are many strange things that science doesn't know.
Art: Fuck it.
Ian: Play any more...
Bunk: Discipline, you need discipline.
Don: No...
Bunk: Four-four.
Don: It's got to be new, it's got to progress, it's got to evolve. THERE MUST BE GROWTH!
Bunk: Ah, man. My goodness...
Don: You've got to eat macrobiotic food.
(FZ: We're doing a play.)
Don: And study astrology. Delve into the occult world.
Ian: Well you can delve all you want but we're formin' a new group... go, go and do you some yoga exercises.
Don: Look...
Ian: Take care of business there.
Don: Mark my words... If you continue playing this music something strange may happen.
Bunk: Don't threaten me...
Don: By the end of the first show... No, the second show.

FZ: So, at this point in the development of our plot the three talented members of the Mothers of Invention have quit the group to form their own band with a lot of discipline.
Art: Yeah.
FZ: This is what we need, it's a nice disciplined combo!

FZ: And so that they would be completely packaged and fit in with the rest of the disciplined combo, the former members of the Mothers of Invention receive their initiation into the robot musical world.

Don: This makes me nervous, I'm gonna go do some yoga.
Ian: Yeah, you'd better.
FZ: Meanwhile, Dom DeWild, under pressure, prepares to unwind with some healthy yoga exercises.

FZ: This is Euclid Motorhead Sherwood.
Motorhead: What's the matter with him?
Ian: He's nervous 'cause he couldn't play with our new group.
Motorhead: Oh, that's nice, look at all those suits.
FZ: Motorhead covets the uniforms of the other band. And also shows some interest in the bum of Underwood.
Ian: Ayyyy!
Motorhead: Hey, ten years ago I knew a lot of guys that had suits like these. They're really nice. Hey, can I play in the band and get a suit like that too?
Ian: No!
Motorhead: But I like the suits and I can play good. I can play... I can play anything.
Ensemble: BOO! BOO! BOO!
FZ: Motorhead is lying. He can't play good, he can't play anything. He's trying to con his way into the other band. He knows they don't want him.
Bunk: I heard you play before.
Motorhead: But I got practicing and play good.
Ian: No discipline.
FZ: He's lying. He hasn't been practicing, he doesn't do shit.
Bunk: Ask me, you couldn't even count to four.
Art: Come on, beat it, man.
Motorhead: You can't do that to me, I'll fix you.
Art: Go ahead.
Motorhead: I'll get into your band. I'll get into your band.
Bunk: Okay Motorhead, just get out of the way.
Motorhead: You can't stop me, I'll get in there somehow.
Ian: Take a walk, you fruit.
Motorhead: There's no way you can stop me, I bet ya!
FZ: Motorhead explains to the members of the Robot Combo that nothing can stop him, he will join their group whether they like it or not.

. . .

Like It or Not

[No lyrics]

. . .


FZ: At this very moment Jimmy Carl Black, the Indian of the group, is approaching the stage. Jimmy Carl, who likes to drink and also likes to boogie all night long and who is also horny, approaches Underwood in his transformed state at the piano and asks him this all important question:
JCB: Hey, I thought we were gonna play a Rock & Roll concert. What is this? How are you gonna get laid if you dont play rock & roll and drink beer? You get laid after the concert if you play rock & roll, this kind of crap you're not gonna, you're not gonna get laid anyway with that uniform on. I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna quit. I'm gonna go out and hustle me some chick, the hell with you.
Ian: Jimmy, you need some discipline.
JCB: I'm leaving the group.
Ensemble: Boo! Boo!

FZ: Jimmy Carl, I must inform you, I must inform you, Jimmy Carl, for your own good, that here in London you're not gonna get any pussy unless you look like a popstar. Fix him up!... Mod Jacket...
JCB: Oh Jeezus...
FZ: Frilly Mod Neckpiece, Jimi Hendrix wig, and a Feather Boa.
JCB: WAAAAAAAAAAHHH!
FZ: Jimmy Carl Black enters the audience to hustle some young ladies. Go on Jim, see if you can get any action, and if you get lucky fix us up too. And if you're really lucky, get something for the robots... Mmmm, their little mechanical things are going up and down, up and down...

. . .


FZ: Then, from out of the corner from the stage, comes Roy Ralph Estrada, perturbed at the present situation within the Mothers.

Roy: Domino, Domino, Domino Biz-bo-OH,
Domino Biz-bo-OH, Amen, Domino Biz-bo, Hallelujah, eh...
Ian: Et cum spiritu tuo...
Roy: Ian, I don't think I qualify for the Mothers.
FZ: They're making up their lines as they go along, isn't it thrilling?
Ian: Why, Roy?
Roy: Because I don't think I'm qualified. I think, I think I'm holding the group back because I'm a MEXICAN. And also because I don't play bass good.
Ian: I don't care how you can play bass but we have NO MEXICANS in this group.
Roy: And I wanna join your group.
Ian: No Mexicans!
Roy: I can sing opera, I have already quit, I cut my hair, I got all my shit together here. I can do it.
Ian: I don't care how you look, you gotta be able to cut the part.
Roy: I can sing. Please. Please, Ian, give me a CHANCE.
Ian: I don't believe you can sing.
Roy: Ah, PLEASE! Ah, Ian, please, hear my PLEA! PLEASE, IAN! PLE-E-E-EASE! I can do it, give me a CHANCE! PLEASE! Please, IAN! BWAH-AH-AH-AH! Please!
Ian: Okay Mexican...
Roy: Please?
Ian: Okay Mexican...
Roy: Okay.
Ian: Sing this note:

Roy (with JCB): You think everything gonna be alright.

Ian: Okay. You passed the first part of your audition. Now you gotta sing...
Roy: Mi, mi, mi, mi...

. . .

Holiday in Berlin

[No lyrics]

. . .


FZ: The rejected Mexican pope leaves the stage.

Ensemble:
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE...

FZ: Motorhead is attempting to join the band... The band... Undaunted, the band plays on.

. . .


FZ: Meanwhile, the snack enters the mind of Dom DeWild.

Ensemble:
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE

FZ: It's the macro-biotic food.

Don: HA HA HA HA HA!

Ensemble: THREE! FOUR!... TWO! TWO!

FZ: While the well disciplined Ian Underwood plays his piano solo, Dom DeWild, transformed, begins to sneak up on him.

Ensemble: BOOH... BOOH... BOOH...

. . .


Sell us a president, agency man
Smiling Big Brother, stern father perhaps
Sell us a president, agency man
A gay smiling nothing we know never craps

Let's try California
(Pay us first before we do it!)
We'll get a smiling nazi
And march him right on through it
Rent a baby
Kiss a baby
Ladies in for tea

And here's a bunch of speeches
We'll toss them in for free

Sell us a president, agency man
Smiling Big Brother, stern father perhaps
Sell us a president, agency man
A gay smiling nothing we know never craps

We'll sell him in the movies
On the tube throughout the year
We'll sell him by the buckets
To the Okies drinking beer
We'll teach him how to walk and talk
We'll putty up his chin
We'll print his picture everywhere
Of course the SCHMUCK will win

From the heart of old Death Valley
To the ruling of our land
A simple trick, you simple pigs
Just the way we planned

. . .

Epilogue

[No lyrics]

. . .

King Kong

[No lyrics]

. . .


Help I'm a rock, help I'm a rock, help I'm a rock!
Ahahahahahahaaa
Help I'm a rock, help I'm a rock, help I'm a rock!
Somebody, please, please!
Help I'm a rock, help I'm a rock...
Wow man, it's a drag being a rock
Help I'm a rock...
I wish I was anything but a rock
Heck, I'd even like to be a policeman
Hey, you know what, you know maybe if I practised, you know
Maybe if I passed my driving test
I could get a gig drivin' that bus and pick some freaks up
In front of Ben Franks, right!

Help I'm a cop, help I'm a cop, help I'm a cop!
(Help I'm a rock...), help I'm a cop, help I'm a cop!
It's a drag being a cop, I think I'd rather be the mayor
Always wondered what I was gonna be when I grew up, you know
Always wondered whether or not, whether or not I could make it,
You know, in society, because,
You know, it's a drag when you're rejected
So I tore the cover off a book of matches and I sent in
And I got this letter back that said, UHU, AHA

It can't happen here
It can't happen here
I'm telling you, my dear
That it can't happen here
Because I been checkin' it out, baby
I checked it out a couple a times, hmmmmmmmm
And I'm telling you
It can't happen here
Oh darling, it's important that you believe me
(Bop bop bop bop)
That it can't happen here

Who could imagine that they would freak out somewhere in Kansas...
Kansas Kansas tototototodo
Kansas Kansas tototototodo
Kansas Kansas
Who could imagine that they would freak out in Minnesota...
Mimimimimimimi Minnesota, Minnesota, Minnesota
Who could imagine...

Who could imagine
That they would freak out in Washington, D.C.
D.C. D.C. D.C. D.C. D.C.
It can't happen here
Ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba
It can't happen here
It can't happen here
Everybody's safe and it can't happen here
No freaks for us
It can't happen here
Everybody's clean and it can't happen here
No, no, it won't happen here
I'm telling you it can't
It won't happen here
(Bop bop didi bop didi bop bop bop)
Plastic folks, you know
It won't happen here
You're safe, mama
You're safe, baby
You just cook a TV dinner
And you make it
(Bop bop bop)
No no no no
Oh, we're gonna get a TV dinner and cook it up
Go get a TV dinner and cook it up
Cook it up
Oh, and it won't happen here
(No no no no no no no no no no no
Man you guys are really safe
Everything's cool).
Who could imagine
Who could imagine
That they would freak out in the suburbs!

I remember (tu-tu)
I remember (tu-tu)
I remember (tu-tu)
They had a swimming pool
I remember (tu-tu)
I remember (tu-tu)
They had a swimming pool
I remember (tu-tu)
I remember (tu-tu)
They had a swimming pool.
And they thought it couldn't happen here
(duh duh duh duh duh)
They knew it couldn't happen here
They were so sure it couldn't happen here
But...

Suzie...
Yes yes yes--I've always felt that
Yes I agree man, it really makes it...yeah...
It's a real THING, man
And it really makes it
(Makes it)

Suzie, you just got to town,
And we've been, we've been very interested
In your development.
Forget it!
Hmmmmmmmmm
(It can't happen here)

. . .

Transylvania Boogie

[No lyrics]

. . .

Pound for a Brown

[No lyrics]

. . .


It's the middle of the night
And your mommy & your daddy are sleeping
It's the middle of the night
And your mommy & your daddy are sleeping
SLEEPING
MOM & DAD ARE SLEEPING
SLEEPING IN A JAR . . . (the jar is under the bed)

. . .


Now believe me when I tell you that my song is really true
I want everyone to listen and believe
It's about some little people from a long time ago
And all the things the neighbors didn't know

Early in the morning, Daddy Dinky went to work
Selling lamps and chairs to San Ber'dino squares
And I still remember Mama with her apron and her pad
Feeding all the boys at Ed's Cafe

Whizzing and pasting and pooting through the day
Ronnie helping Kenny, helping burn his poots away
And all the while on a shelf in the shed
Kenny's little creatures on display

Ronnie saves his numies on a window in his room
A marvel to be seen, dysentery green
While Kenny and his buddies had a game out in the back
Let's make the water turn black

We see them after school in a world of their own
To some it might seem creepy what they do
The neighbors on the right sat and watched them every night
I bet you'd do the same if they was you

Whizzing and pasting and pooting through the day
Ronnie helping Kenny, helping burn his poots away
And all the while on a shelf in the shed
Kenny's little creatures on display

Ronnie's in the army now, and Kenny's taking pills
Oh, how they yearn to see a bomber burn
Color flashing, thunder crashing, dynamite machine
Wait till the fire turns green
Wait till the fire turns green
Wait till the fire turns green

This would be a little bit of vocal teenage heaven, right here on Earth

Ronnie Williams (backwards):
Dodn-do-do-dodn-dodn-dodn-dada

. . .


I'm gonna tell you the way it is
And I'm not gonna be kind or easy
Your whole attitude stinks, I say
And the life you lead is completely empty

You paint your head
Your mind is dead
You don't even know what I just said

THAT'S YOU: AMERICAN WOMANHOOD!

You're phony on top
You're phony underneath
You lay in bed & grit your teeth

MADGE, I WANT YOUR BODY!
HARRY, GET BACK!
MADGE, IT'S NOT MERELY PHYSICAL!
HARRY, YOU'RE A BEAST!

Don't come in me, in me
Don't come in me, in me
Don't come in me, in me
Don't come in me, in me

MADGE, I . . . MADGE . . . I COULDN'T HELP IT . . .
I . . . DOGGONE IT!

. . .

The Orange County Lumber Truck

[No lyrics]

. . .

Oh No

[No lyrics]

. . .


FZ: I've been informed that when the guy comes out that beats the gong we have to stop playing, because the subways around here shut down early. We'd like to thank you very much for coming to our concert and say goodnight. Nighty night, thank you.

. . .


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