Tuesday, June 13, 2017

Music Whenever: Grand Analog "I Play My Kazoo"

I don't feature much rap (up to now, in all my music videos, there are no rap videos that I know of, )... I guess you could call this a lite-rap song by Grand Analog. My musical talent extends only to, but not beyond,  the kazoo. So scour your living space for that special hideaway where your kazoo has been stashed... wait for about 3 minutes into this video... and join in - full bore... Playing the kazoo is good for your soul... Guaranteed.



GRAND ANALOG - I Play My Kazoo from Southern Souls on Vimeo.

This is a story of a man from down south
The fam migrated to the north
I'm a put you on what it's about
The regular routes, Shanty towns that produce
the poor Born in the gutter, word to his mother
Make her something outta nothing, Matter, work harder,
go farther
My poppa said you gotta pop a lock on the purpose
Gotta love, then you implement the heart
Recognize the cause, make it true, whatever you do
Whether you
save the lives or play the kazoo
Be the author not the actor of your chapter to
Blank pages in this open book, now look
I could break it down like whatever you want
I come equipped with the sound, come equipped with the funk
Like whatever you want man
Doing my thing I do what I do
Walk the line, I play my kazoo
Shoot nothing but love when I aim at you
I be the baritone rapper with the falsetto
Walk with myself, Talk to myself, It's hard I know
I like to exercise the mental health
I know that I could do it like no one else
I come alive with the sun beneath the earth
Capture that moment in time like a camera
Withstand the land of a thousand bands
I am a man with no answers
Although I know the analog is grand That come apart like trouble man
I could break it down like whatever you want
I come equipped with the sound, come equipped with the funk
Like whatever you want man
Do my thing
I do what I do
Walk the line,
I play my kazoo
Shoot nothing but love when I aim at you
I be the baritone rapper with the falsetto
Long walk home, the long walk home
Recite colorful flows like Pablo Picasso
Cool fellow collected, connect,  When I metal on the mic, big city bright lights
Got me broken wide open till
I'm useless Like arthritis to a violinist,
I can't diminish
I scrimmage with the wrist when I write,
sip Guinness
I break it down to the compound when I'm in it
Believe it and you'll know, feel it when it flows
She'll feel it in her toes,
and nipples
Possibly maybe hit the spot that tickles
With the beats and the rhymes
sinking in like dimples

I play my kazoo

3 comments:

Alden Smith said...

I would really like to see a photo of Sally streaking - now that would be sight for sore eyes!

George A said...

This reminds me of poetry from the "beat" era. Guys hangin' out in coffee houses trying to sound profound.

Tweezerman said...

Yeah.

There is a fine line between banal intellectual tripe and rap that makes a connection. This one makes a connection to me, maybe not to you. To each their own.