Progressive and Simple at the Same Time
Please note: MP3s are only kept online for a short time, and if this entry is from more than a couple of weeks ago, the music probably won't be available to download any more.


Huey "Piano" Smith and The Clowns - "Don't You Just Know It"

You’re a chicken, a shrimp, and a pig. You’re a thirteen-year-old cow(ard) leaning against the wall of a middle school gymnasium, paralyzed. You’re hoping that someone will ask you to dance, while praying that no one will ask you to dance. The dignified among your kind - those unwanteds with at least a modicum of self-knowledge - can presently be found amidst the library stacks, seeking out a Robert Cormier novel, or The Catcher in the Rye, i.e., some small, safe pleasure that can’t lead to VD. Can dancing lead to VD? (You’re flunking health class). Your height (roughly 4 feet and 5 inches) means that if you were to dance with an average sized girl, your head would be awkwardly situated at her breasts. Some have said to you that this is a blessing; you are well aware that it is a curse. Marshall Kruspe is dancing with Jennifer Carter. You are so angry about this. Effing ef! Totally unfair! But what are you going to do about it? There’s the rub, eh? There’s nothing you can do, because you don’t even want what you want. You know as well as Jennifer Carter does that you wouldn’t know what to do with her if you had your chance. Every pore of your body exudes pathos, as well as grease.

Disconsolate, sure that nothing will ever undo the trauma of this day, you decide to go to the bathroom, where you will mope at least, cry at most. As you are leaving the gym, however, you observe something of interest: an anachronistic gang of 1950s gentlemen stretching hyperactively, laughing uproariously, drinking from flasks. Most of them are nerds. In addition, there is one dandy, one transvestite, and one big fat cyclops. Wearing tuxedos and armed with musical instruments (piano, bari sax, upright bass), they walk past you into the gym, and by the time you turn around, the deejay is already lying on the floor unconscious (dead?). The UB40 is brought to a halt. The men start playing a song - a piece of wild, unbridled musical theatre (you can hear the song in question by clicking on the link above). Suddenly, you’re intensely, irresistibly drawn to the dance floor. What’s more is that you’re a genius dancer, a regular Nureyev. The transvestite, playing the female character, sings “Baby, don’t believe I wear two left shoes,” and winks at you. You blush. The cyclops plays the male character, but since his voice is cyclops-deep and he doesn’t speak any English, it’s pretty much impossible to understand him. Luckily, Cyclops doesn’t need language to express his democratic message: love and partying for all, even freaks like him and you. Sensing an imminent revolution, everyone who had previously been dancing begins to retreat with fear, and all those who waited, leaning or sitting against the wall, come forth and populate the centre of the dance floor. Tentative at first, their wiggles and hops become more confident as the dandy begins his call-and-response chorus.

Dandy: Gooba gooba gooba gooba!
Y’all: Gooba gooba gooba gooba!

Overcome by your grace, artistry, and athleticism, and infected by the bombast and abandon of the anachronists, Jennifer Carter runs from Marshall Kruspe’s side, grabs you and pulls you into her. Your head is now firmly planted between her breasts. Both you and Jennifer are laughing breathlessly, painfully, your eyes watering. Little acne-afflicted David Finkelstein pops open a bottle of champagne. Everyone is overcome with hysterical, convulsive merriment.

Dandy: Ah-ha-ah-ha
Y’all: Ah-ha-ah-ha

Marshall Kruspe, scared, is trying to wake the deejay. “C’mon man, you haven’t even played 'October Rain' yet! This is ridiculous!”

“Oui, c’est vraiment ridoncule,” says a handsome man slyly. He sports a trench coat, a thin moustache, and a cigarette holder.

“Who are you?!” asks Marshall, his voice pubescently cracking.

“Je suis Monsieur Ben-ya-meen, le nouveau professeur de Français,” il dit. “Je vous verrai dans la détention!”




Exciting StG news: Sean’s first Pitchfork review was published yesterday. Please go read it. As is to be expected, it is a fantastic piece.

Posted by Jordan at August 23, 2006 5:45 AM

Finest piece of writing ever! Bulgakhov go f... yourself!

Posted by Kenneth at August 23, 2006 8:21 AM

Words quite fail me sir. But champagne/campaign?
Anyways, the whole is quite evocative.

Posted by Joel Taylor at August 23, 2006 10:32 AM

A bottle of Champaign, Illinois, that is.

Posted by Jordan at August 23, 2006 11:42 AM

Gotcha deep, Teebs.

Posted by Joel Taylor at August 23, 2006 11:51 AM

I have no idea what to expect as I download this song, but I think that may be the most captivating blog post ever written.

Posted by muruch at August 23, 2006 12:18 PM

ah, i read that article and didn't even realize it...herman dune rock!

Posted by max at August 23, 2006 12:32 PM

Absolutely awesome. Well done!

Posted by chris at August 23, 2006 12:47 PM

fuckin killer, jordan.

Posted by Sean at August 23, 2006 12:56 PM



Posted by Andy at August 23, 2006 2:48 PM

hey, congrats to Sean on the Pitchfork piece!

Posted by EF Matt at August 23, 2006 6:12 PM

Yeah, that's a great record alright. From New Orleans, if I'm not mistaken. Nice story too.

Posted by 2fs at August 23, 2006 7:58 PM

Fantastic post - really glad I took the time to read it - it seems to work best listening to the track whilst reading the post

Posted by Mike at August 23, 2006 8:13 PM

The image of the cyclops bass-singer is just absolutley perfect.

Posted by Dylan at August 23, 2006 11:19 PM

"Every pore of your body exudes pathos, as well as grease." Awesome.

Posted by Dave at August 24, 2006 4:37 AM

Congratulations to Sean as well, very nice.

Posted by Dave at August 24, 2006 4:38 AM

That's some elaborate mp3 writing...

Great stuff, Jordan. Keep 'em coming.


Posted by Ludwig at August 24, 2006 10:59 PM

Gooba gooba gooba gooba!

Posted by jay at August 27, 2006 10:28 PM

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about the authors
Sean Michaels is the founder of Said the Gramophone. He is a writer, critic and author of the theremin novel Us Conductors. Follow him on Twitter or reach him by email here. Click here to browse his posts.

Emma Healey writes poems and essays in Toronto. She joined Said the Gramophone in 2015. This is her website and email her here.

Jeff Miller is a Montreal-based writer and zinemaker. He is the author of Ghost Pine: All Stories True and a bunch of other stories. He joined Said the Gramophone in 2015. Say hello on Twitter or email.

Mitz Takahashi is originally from Osaka, Japan who now lives and works as a furniture designer/maker in Montreal. English is not his first language so please forgive his glamour grammar mistakes. He is trying. He joined Said the Gramophone in 2015. Reach him by email here.

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Dan Beirne wrote regularly for Said the Gramophone from August 2004 to December 2014. He is an actor and writer living in Toronto. Any claim he makes about his life on here is probably untrue. Click here to browse his posts. Email him here.

Jordan Himelfarb wrote for Said the Gramophone from November 2004 to March 2012. He lives in Toronto. He is an opinion editor at the Toronto Star. Click here to browse his posts. Email him here.
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Back to the World
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