Overture to Madness
Field recording courtesy of LadyJane.
All these synthetic sounds are intended to evoke real and familiar instruments. This was easy to envision as a stage production. The opening opens with the in-house theatre organ in the pit. Drums and guitars join the crescendo which is suddenly interrupted by a drop down screen with a short film with a twist on a iconic beach scene. The screen lifts and the power trio is joined by an accordion, an English horn and a soprano sax for a playful rendition of ‘Down in Baghdad’. Then, in the next section, a small marching band of horn players circle around while each in turn comes center to drill a stupid melody into your ears. They include trombones, four kinds of saxes and a tuba bass line. Not far into the proceedings, the first of the anima-tronic geese and ducks begin to wander the stage. A few at first, then many. When the thumpy part comes, their movements become synchronized as they march back and forth in formation. As the last section begins and the drums get all Ringo-like, they all take off at once and fly away. Shadows pass across the stage as if the fowl are flying around the lights. As things wind down, the keyboard player is free of Hammond duty and tries to strap on the accordion in time for the final chord. It comes just as a cascade of fowl droppings drop on the players’ heads. Blackout.
Dance of the Playful Wankie Boys: Allegro
Music by Sergei Prokofiev
The original plan said this PRCA had to contain the F-bomb at least one hundred times. This is a section of The Scythian Suite done as a manly satire.
Lyrics…
I don’t give a f*ck,
f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck
I just wanna f*ck
f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck
f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck
f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck
f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck
f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck
f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck
f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck
f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck
f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck
Come dance with the playful wankie boys
They’re settin’ the house on fire
Watch them breaking all the toys
Very impressive these wankie boys
Dick
I said dick
Did you hear me? It is my testimony
I said dick
Come dance with the playful wankie boys
They’re burnin’ down the house
Underneath their smoky sky
The wankie boys say it’s do or die
F*ck wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna f*ck
wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna f*ck
wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna f*ck wanna
wanna wanna f*ck wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna
wanna wanna f*ck wanna wanna wanna f*ck
wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna f*ck wanna wanna wanna
wanna wanna f*ck wanna wanna f*ck wanna f*ck
wanna wanna f*ck wanna wanna f*ck wanna f*ck
f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck
f*ck f*ck
and… f*ck!
(skit)
Beefcake Madness
The title tune intends to evoke a sense of masculinity... of a posturing muscularity... that and premature ejaculation. With a sweaty repeat and fade.
Lyrics…
I’m a beefcake fantasy
in a world that only a boy can see
We know who knows who can save its day
The wankie boys will show the way
Yee-Hah…
We are the fearsome supermen (or, sperm ‘n eu)
and nothing can brake our stride
Come and join our cheesecake revelry
Find a place in the big machinery
Come and reap the harvest of our shared belief
in the ever-righteous everlasting madness of beef
I am so beefy and roasted with fire
that licks and tickles and makes me laugh
Got a head full of steam and blood full of wood
it’s so sensational I gotta laugh
It burns and tickles and freezes and hurts
so don’t make me laugh
I said stop laughing
We are the fearless supermen
and no dame can make us cry
Yee-Hah!!
Madness is Sensational Sensational
Telling us what to do Sperm ‘n eu
Quiet those big-mouthed shirty dames then who can say
Who look right past our view
Buddy we can help you bag a chick
Cuz here there’s a place for every dick
come join with us in our shared belief
in the ever-righteous everlasting madness of beef
Of course we are the supermen Sperm ‘n eu
above and beyond the rest Nancy boys
don’t put da rules to the test don’t f*ck with us
cuz we have to live together
Are you a nancy boy?
No, I am the bestest boy
Are you a girly-man?
No, I am the bestest boy
Is that a clanging sound?
Yes, as they swing and sway
Does mommy hold them to the ground?
No, I’m gonna do what the big boys say
Some says those balls will have to die
No, I think my balls can touch the sky
The madness we will never face
The mythos we will clutch in place
Mysteries we will never know
Where the blood will never go
It burns and tickles and freezes and hurts.
but we have to live together
It’s Sensational!
Sen-sen-sational!
I am the leg-man…
I am the ass-man…
And I think like a walrus
Coo-coo for cleavage
(skit)
The madness we will never face
The mythos we will hold in place
Mysteries we will never know
Where the blood will never go
So the dames must never be
more than what my eyes can see
Boobs?
Did you say boobs?
Boobs!
You said boobs.
Boobs!
Count me in, lads
Where’s my Zamboni girl?
So who’s a prissy femmy wimpy girly little nancy boy?
and who’s a wimpy prissy femmy faggy little girly-man?
Who’s a prissy femmy wimpy girly little nancy boy?
Who’s a wimpy prissy femmy faggy little girly-man?
prissy femmy wimpy girly prissy femmy faggy-boy
foamy prickly ghoulish wipey foggy gnarly minivan
You may praise my trophy wife
Those dames will explore the hidden frontier
Out of the woods where they can see clear
Nipping the shaft
exposing the trick
and The Prickly Science of The Dick
The Legend of the Khandahar Prince
Overgrown baby music. And a man on a horse.
Lyrics…
The Khandahar Prince was just a boy
when the wild men rose up to destroy
He saved his face with everyone
He saved his farce from oblivion
Other little boys are only up to par
But in everyone of ours is born a little Prince of Khandahar
We must not tame the little prince in case the wild men rise again
no need to train him to behave just ask him if he can
Did mommy come to heel quickly when you wailed?
when your little bottom stung and your little patience failed
Was she the angel of Heaven who was larger than your life?
were you the little prince of khandahar who played for her his pipe?
Soon our prince must marry a selected bag o’ bride
that hides a prize so tempting she could take him for ride
Mommy wouldn’t taunt you or grant you pity love
or laugh behind your back like she is thinking of
did your prize come to heel quickly when you wailed?
until her little bottom stung when your little patience failed
was she the devil from beyond who could end your afterlife?
the prince of khandahar would insist she must be nothing but your wife
What a silly man what a f*ck for brains
I should thank my luck so far
To think I could ever be a match
for the Prince of Khandahar
Why this lament?
why cast this hero and his
tales that tell and toll from
the bottom of your memory
as a downer of a ditty
with a sad little tune?
Why does the story of your life
deserve to be this lament?
Because it is so lamentable
(skit)
The Sea, Sinbad and the Shipwreck at Palmyra.
This should be quickly recognizable to symphony music fans as the second section of Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade... also called The Legend of the Kalendar Prince... done as a satire. Or a parody. Yeah, that’s it.
This parody is in four segments:
An Ancient Carousel of Angry Horses
A Token for Hell's Nickelodeon
Rail Hobos of the New Seville
Hannibal's Return
Dance of the Playful Wankie Boys: Alboobro
The Alboobro Movement evokes a boyish excitement with a throbbing that can’t be ignored. The name alone makes one want to peek. I mean listen.
Thanks, Mart!
Dance of the Playful Wankie Boys: Albuttro
The complete Albuttro Movement with two skits.
Lyrics…
Alvin and Alonzo are altogether vicious
While Albert and Alistair are asking Aloisius…
Who is Al Buttro?
And who is a Joe Shmoe?
You’re just a schmuck so
you’re not Al Buttro
Alfred and Aladdin are always in a schism
While Alec and Alfredo are lacking altruism
I am Al Buttro but not if you are Al Buttro if not then
I am Al Buttro if not then we must know who is Al Buttro
It’s always Alabaster who casts allegiance sparsely
While Alexander is alerting Alan albeit harshly
You’re not Al Buttro since I am Al Buttro don’t tell me
you are Al Buttro if I said I am Al Buttro
We must find him before we drop
Only Al Buttro
Can ever make this stop.
(skit)
The Calendar Princess
He’s a testifier. With a teste fire.
Lyrics…
Pounding like thunder from behind the locker door
She is up against the wall while sprawled across the floor
She hangs like dangling fruit and is always on my mind
It’s a full frontal attack or I’m taken from behind
She changes her form in an endless lunar cycle
A full moon shines when the devil’s hands are idle
All the days of June haunt clear through September
Some months will always always be remembered
No, she’s a tack-hanging predator and no one’s toy
only posing as docile and coy… but no
Remember what you’ve been shown
She’ll wait til you’re alone
then she’ll turn your blood to bone!
She’s got us lads surrounded popping out from every wall
She is draped across the hood and sneaking in the stall
Some keep her at their peril and face a holy dread
If she were found in the closet or hidden under the bed
I like to keep her whereabouts always in plain sight
If I have to hold a vigil all throughout the night
Images of April linger all the way through May
maybe take on the whole year in a single day
I shall have my way and she shall have my will
Is it so she can chalk up one more kill? Cuz I’m beat…
She’s the huntress of the wankie lads
stalking all the bachelor pads
Or anyone whose got the nads!
You can walk away
turn your back and say
She is safely tucked away
but she’s loose and you’re the prey
Huntress of the wankie lads
Stalking all the bachelor pads
She will wait til you’re alone
She will turn your blood to bone
blood to bone! blood to bone!
Good to wood! Good to wood!
You might think you’re the prize
underneath your cozy sheet
In those unblinking eyes
you’re just a piece of meat
Piece of meat! Piece of meat!
She will squeak softly and
carry your stick in hand
You’ll confess you’ve been good
then she’ll turn your blood to wood
Figures once you’ve been shown
You’ll be her helpless drone
This is the crime that pays
We’ll give her thirty days
I feel I’ve been robbed
No authorities to turn to
I could call the boys in blue
but they might say me too
She’ll never face a redress
Or challenge in the free press
Twelve aliases to hide in
I may as well stop cryin’
Yet never will I confess
That I left a wee mess…
yes we left a wee mess
on the calendar princess
yes we left a wee mess
on the calendar princess
The Hunt for Meat, the Larder of Love
Some days, these synthesized orchestra instruments sound pretty good. Other days they are just an electric buzzing sound. This buzz is identified as a Soprano Sax. It helps the illusion to read the names.
(skit)
The Festering of Baghdad
The cast of buzz sounds in order of appearance: Accordion, English Horn, Clarinet, Strings, Bassoon, Harp, Honky Tonk Piano, Tuba, Theatre Organ, Trombones, and Piccolo.
Lyrics to Down in Baghdad…
The world is a mess down in Baghdad
and we know why down in Baghdad
Those wankie boys here in Baghdad
follow the smoky sky to downtown Baghdad
The world’s a mess and we know why
those playful lads who smoke the sky
They kissed the girls and made them cry
No pity for those boys who’ll have to die down in Baghdad
Right here in Baghdad
We f*cked em ‘up down in Baghdad
Then we bagged them up down in Baghdad
We f*cked ‘em real good here in Baghdad
pity the boys will have to die right here in Baghdad
Down in Baghdad
Right here in Baghdad
Epilogue: Dickland Promotional Film
It’s only the soundtrack.
Lyrics…
If you’re a dick then come and play
where madness is the only way
in Dickland
here we’re quenching every thirst
just as long as dicks come first
in Dickland
Come and join our boyhood dream
some dames will liven up the scene
and damn us all
to Dickland
until the shit hits the fan
come and smoke em while you can
in Dickland
Those maniacs who blew it up are back in town
so give it up for Dickland
Bop bop sha-boom!
