fridayschildren (original) (raw)
Whether the suit is vinyl is couture, I can't get dressed up in any sort of "costume" without humming Lavender.
It's a brilliant song mocking personal marketing, illustrating how a media personality must continually reinvent themselves with increasingly elaborate (and often ridiculous) eye-drawing reincarnations, while the real cage (in which their real self withers) grows ever smaller and less comfortable.
It applies to all walks of life, though. How many of us find ourselves in increasingly ridiculous monkey suits in the pursuit of personal success?
I fiercely cling to my color scheme, which I glean from the lyrics:
After years of blending gray, black, and navy
I am building a much brighter beast
And I'm really quite offended when they call it selling out
I've come to view it more as a lease!
Sometimes I think about going as Tommy for Halloween (http://www.milanoo.com/en/thing/Front-Open-Purple-Shiny-PVC-Catsuit-module-item-id-1330.html ). Anyone have any yellow moon and star decals?
And some clown shoes. Everybody loves clown shoes.
Friday's Child: The Connection (Live at the Goldhawk)
June 24th, 2009
This is my favorite recording of The Connection because it captures the live show experience. The supporting voice in the song is performed entirely by the audience.
Friday's Child: There Should Be Love At Christmastime
June 24th, 2009
You know you've made it when you release a Christmas album.
Friday's Child: History Lesson
June 24th, 2009
This is one of the first incidences on video of Friday's Child's current, static trio lineup of Tom Walker, Rich Haddad, and Kevin Jahoda.
June 24th, 2009
If you hate self-loathing, melancholy rock songs written by self-important, wanna-be poets, you'll love this song!
June 24th, 2009
This song, which experienced great success on Armed Forces Radio, is dedicated to our brave troops serving all over the world.
The song pays homage to front man Tom Walker's uncle, a US Marine war hero who was wounded on Iwo Jima during WWII. A fellow marine was injured and a Navy medic was killed while they were saving his life.
After the war, Tom's uncle married the love of his life, and they raised seven children. He earned tremendous respect by everyone who knew him - he was a true pillar of his community.
After living a long, healthy life for years following, Tom's uncle was stricken with throat cancer. This lion of a man, whom everyone believed was invincible, was taken from this earth in a matter of months.
Audience Participation - Agnes
June 24th, 2009
One attractive component of the Friday's Child concert experience is the audience participation. Many songs - particularly Tommy's bold and satirical tracks - have "audience participation" lines. In these moments, members of the audience will shout out a line in the middle of the song and, through that, become part of the show. It's been said that Friday's Child is the Rocky Horror of music.
In that spirit, I am looking to record and develop the audience lines for Agnes, one of our favorite songs which spirit can only be appreciated in a live venue.
Agnes
Plays her violin on Sunday mornings
While they're taking the collection
And the usual selection seems like Mozart
She used to keep the books down at the brewery
Before the river got polluted
She insists her job diluted her commitment
To her music
Every one of us a sinner
Every one of us a worm
And when Agnes plays her violin
All us sinners squirm
Every one of us a coward
Every one our soul worn thin
As we pray as one
To God above
to Burn Her Violin!
Agnes
Her eyes squeezed shut in eager concentration
Grinds her whining instrument
In that instant Mozart flipped right in his grave
She wants to make an offering to Jesus
With the energy she's spending
And the song that she is sending up to Heaven
With that music
Every one of us a sinner
Every one of us a cad
And when Agnes plays that violin
It makes us all feel bad
Every one of us a coward
Every one our soul worn thin
As we pray as one
To God on high
To Smite Her Violin!
Agnes
Didn't play her violin this Sunday morning
Much to everyone's surprise
The pastor said she died
While she was sleeping
She used to keep the books down at the brewery
At least that's what the papers said
She's dead, alone, and leaving no survivors
But her music
Every one of us is sorry
Every one of us ashamed
Yes we'll all laud her in public
We'll all loudly praise her name
Every one of us a coward
Every one of us in sin
We'll all miss dear old Agnes
We won't miss her violin!