Backstory to a Song
5
 Sep 27, 2017
Rules


Give us the back story for a popular song.

For instance the reason the Devil lost the fiddle contest in "The Devil Went Down To Georgia" is because he played on his golden fiddle and gold is terrible for acoustics. Because really, the Devil lost a fiddle contest? Really?

Your entry can either be factual (Some songs have really fascinating back stories as it is), or totally fictional. It needs to be a story though, and not a series of facts.

Contest Rules
* Entry Fee: Free
* Prize: Advanced Trophy
* Level: Advanced
* Character Limits: 150 - 2000 words
* Submit period: 21 days
* Voting period: 3 days
* All regular Writing Deck Rules apply.
* Multiple entries are allowed in this contest.

Thanks to underworth for supplying our themepost!

And thanks to Underdog for the contest suggestion!
1st place
  7.429

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"Ok, we're in rehabilitation mode people; ideas please?"

"Well there couldn't be a better group of image makers to reinvent a rock star than us!"

"What do we want to address primarily? What are the priorities?"

"If you ask me, Johnnie Boy is looking like a narcissistic, materialistic, money grubbing diva of a guy."

"But hey look, it's not just his consumerism that needs a work-over... he abandoned his country for heaven's sake. How are we going to bring a sense of loyalty to our fair haired countryman son?"

"Let's discount patriotism or nationalism altogether. Ridicule and mock anyone who would think it proper to be loyal to just one country. Put him on the side of NO countries."

"Could we point out that everybody is selfish? Would that be going too far?"

"Not at all; don't you think that as people hear the song, they wouldn't be as critical if they knew the finger could be pointed at them? Heck, we could encourage them to be live selfishly right there in the song itself. They'd never see it."

"Absolutely, they have to think that merely listening to the song brings them to a higher moral level."

"Are you saying that we could add lyrics that are so ridiculous, that no none would challenge the premise? Is that not insane?"

"Clever like a fox. Oh, I thought you were going to say clever... Insane like a rabid fox!"

"There will need to be a spiritual aspect to the song, Johnnie's going to demand that. You know how jealous he was when his bud Georgie Porgie was able to get all those Christian children singing to Krishna in almost every American church."

"Ha, that was a coup indeed."

"I say we can top that. We can disrespect Krishna too.""

"You were always the optimist."

"We'll need a hook, a chorus that really ropes the listeners in as the true enlightened ones. We need to give them a title of respect and make them feel like idealists and visionaries, with a call to action and membership..."

[An interruption.]

"Wait, wait, wait; you just spoke against everything you want to put into the chorus. Do you guys truly think the public is so shallow, so dim that they won't see right through this charade?!?"

[The daggers shot across the table were almost visible; directed at the now clearly flustered celebrity stylist.]

...silence...


"Ok to recap, we want to write a song that appears to give incredible hope with the most ridiculously asinine elements and have it alongside John's actual character totally juxtaposed against everything he lives and values, which will expose him as a total hypocrite; thereby winning him awards and accolades for his depth and caring."

"And be considered one of the most beautiful and awe inspiring songs of all time."

"I think that about covers it."




.

The boys were sitting around the studio one day, when John received a letter.

“Hey, this is from someone at my old high school, Quarry Bank,” he announced.

“Really, what do they have to say?” asked Ringo.

“It appears that a teacher is conducting a class analyzing our songs,” John replied.

“Amazing how they consider them to be worth class time,” George chimed in. “Did they get anything right?”

“They never did before, I doubt they started now, particularly since nobody has bothered to ask us, and we are the ones that wrote the bloody things,” Paul interjected.

“I have half a mind to give them a run for their money with the next one,” John mused.

With that the practice session started, the song would have to wait until later.

I am he
As you are he
As you are me
And we are all together


“That’s a good start,” Paul said, looking over John’s shoulder. “What’s it mean?”

“Absolutely nothing of course, I am working on that song to confuse the experts,” John replied.

“It sounds vaguely familiar though…,” Paul mused.

“It comes from the song ‘Marching to Pretoria’, “I’m with you as you’re with me and we are all together’,” John explained.

“Ah, so that’s it,” Paul nodded.

See how they run
Like pigs from a gun
See how they fly
I'm crying


“Um…,” said Paul.

“Wait for the next part,” John grinned.
Sitting on a cornflake
Waiting for the man to come
Corporation tee shirt
Stupid bloody Tuesday
Man, you been a naughty boy
You let your face grow long


“Ooh, a bloomin’ ee cummings we are!” Paul laughed.

“Hey, if Bob Dylan can get away with writing this kind of crap, so can I,” said John.

Pete looked at the verse. “Hey dude, that one line would scan better as ‘Waiting for the van to come”

“Hey, I’m easy,” John said as he changed it.

I am the eggman (Ooh)
They are the eggmen, (Ooh)
I am the walrus
Goo goo g' job


“The eggman?” asked Ringo.

“Hey, just go with it dude,” Paul advised. “So who’s the Walrus anyway?”

“We’ll let them figure that out,” John said, and continued writing.

Mister city p'liceman sitting pretty
Little p'licemen in a row
See how they fly
Like Lucy in the sky
See how they run
I'm crying
I'm crying, I'm crying, I'm crying


“Well that’s a pretty bit of nonsense said Pete, who had just arrived. “Remember that old sick schoolboy poem we used to recite?”

“Which one was that?” John asked.

"Yellow matter custard, green slop pie,
Dripping from a dead dog's eye,
Slap it on a butty, ten foot thick,
Then wash it all down with a cup of cold sick." Said Pete

“Good, good,” John agreed.

Yellow matter custard
Dripping from a dead dog's eye
Crabalocker fishwife pornographic priestess
Boy you been a naughty girl
You let your knickers down


“That part will never get past the BBC you know,” Ringo pointed out.
“I’m not too worried about that,” John said.

Sitting in an English
Garden waiting for the sun
If the sun don't come
You get a tan from standing in the English rain


“That’s the truth,” remarked George.

Expert texpert choking smokers
Don't you think the joker laughs at you?
See how they smile
Like pigs in a sty, see how they snied
I'm crying


“Ey! Watch that mate,” George protested, snuffing out his cigarette.
Semolina pilchards
Climbing up the Eiffel Tower
Element'ry penguin singing Hare Krishna
Man, you should have seen them kicking Edgar Allan Poe


“Hmmph!” groused George in a huff.

I am the eggman (Ooh)
They are the eggmen (Ooh)
I am the walrus
Goo goo g' joob
Goo goo g' joob
G' goo goo g' joob
Goo goo g' joob, goo goo g' goo g' goo goo g' joob joob
Joob joob...


“Um, where is that coming from?” asked Paul.

“Finnegans’s Wake, James Joyce, ‘Goo goo gajoob’,” John explained.

“Ah,” said Paul. “So is that it?”

“No, we need a really good fade out.”

“How about this,” asked Ringo, “Two groups of people, one singing ‘Oompah, Oompah, stick it in your jumper’, and the other singing ‘Everybody’s got one.’”

“Perfect,” said John, “now let’s go record it.”

(See artists comments)

I don’t often partake of the festivals in town. They are always the same, with most people getting tipsy off the new wine, and getting fleeced by the travelling gypsies. Mind you, the gypsies do provide some good entertainment, but when was the last time they came up with a new tune? It seems like they still play the same music I heard when my grandfather first brought me to one of these.

Though the wine is definitely tasty, to enjoy the best wines from the district would cost one an arm and a leg. And those were aged may years and usually found only in exclusive shops not even in our country. Of course I have a wine cellar which contains the best, so if it were just for that drink, I would never need visit.

No, what had caused me to go this year, was from the different music that had drifted up the wind to my home. I had never heard anything like it before, so headed to town to investigate.

At a gasthaus on the outer edge of the town square, I spotted the owner laughing at the spectacle taking place. “What’s going on Franz? This doesn’t look, or sound, like any wine festival I’ve ever known.”

“Ah,” responded Franz, “welcome mein herr. What you are witnessing is a first indeed. It seems there was a football match in the Capital, and these Englishmen are celebrating their victory over us by spending time visiting the country. That racket is an English troupe. Though I have to admit the music is quite catching, and certainly a change from the gypsies. You can see them scowling over there (ha).”

Sure enough, the gypsies were all huddled together off to one side, probably thinking up the best way to get even. But after looking their way, my eye was drawn back to the partying crowd, and specifically to a golden-haired beauty sitting at an outdoor café table. Though she was with and surrounded by company, she was all my focus found.

I was in the midst of asking Franz if he knew who she was, when she looked up, and our eyes met across the square. At the smile she then flashed, any words I might have had for Franz evaporated as I just started walking her way. I think I heard Franz laughing, but it might have just been my imagination.

As I approached her, it seemed there were no one else in the world. “Bine ati venit,” I said, and was greeted with a shrug to go along with her smile. She evidently did not understand our language, and I knew no English. I shrugged myself, and gestured to indicate I would like a dance. Nodding as she rose and came to me, my heart floated, as our feet seemed to do as well, as we danced in the square.

Time had no meaning then, as the dance carried us away, just our eyes talking to each other. The music may have even stopped; we were too engrossed to notice anything but the fact that we were made for each other. At some point we did manage to leave the festivities and head to my home where I kissed her and she became mine forever.

I would take more brides later, but she would always remain my number one wife.

During their now famous visit to India to study the meditative teachings of the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, the Beatles penned some very reflective tunes that would show up on the White Album.
One of these tunes is actually John Lennon's thinly veiled jab at the Guru after witnessing the "Enlightened One" roaming from Bungalow to Bungalow in the middle of the night to share some "offerings of intimate enlightenment" with the ladies. John, always the sceptic about the religions and probably agnostic, was always in search of life's meaning. Thinking this might be the answer, he was again completely disillusioned by the antics of what he perceived as a Charlatan and dubbed the portly spiritual icon "Sexy Sadie". (Pure John Lennon wit). Originally titled “Maharishi”, John was urged to change the title/lyric to avoid the obvious liabilities.
These nightly "visits" were also, in part, the likely inspiration for "Dear Prudence”. (This was Mia Farrow's sister who in a meditation marathon, refused to leave her bungalow for nearly the whole six-week visit….Hmmmm..... little wonder here!. Probably trying to meditate her way out of these advances.)
Other tunes were inspired by this visit as well but none painted an image as disturbing as that of the of this chubby “Guru”, with flowing white hair and beard, in his white cotton gauze gown, traipsing from bungalow to bungalow in search of subjects within his “enlightened flock” to deliver a sexual Puja.
Paul and Ringo departed the retreat early with John remaining a couple more weeks just for the amusement I suppose but, all of The Beatles received some sort of enlightenment from this experience. Only George’s was truly spiritual though. A faith he practiced until his death.
RIP George.

Randy Bachman, founder and lead guitarist of Bachman Turner Overdrive recalls the story behind “You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet”.
The band, made up of Randy Bachman, Fred Turner as well as two younger Bachman siblings would go on to have many hits but none matched the popularity of this gem.
While some assumed this was a homage of The Who’s “My Generation”, the huge hit for (BTO), was actually a work track,” a song we cut at the start of the sessions while we were getting our sound balance”. The stuttering was a spontaneous addition to the lyric by the brothers as a “ribbing” to their manager/brother Gary Bachman who was a childhood stutterer, and the band was just “goofin’” during the session. But Randy never intended it to make an album track, let alone a single, until Label Exec. Charlie Fach recognized its potential.
“Our engineer suggested we play Charlie the work track”. It had a jangling guitar intro reminiscent of the band’s first US hit, Let It Ride, but went on to establish its individuality thanks to the stuttering delivery of the lyric.
The minute he heard the intro chords he yelled: ‘This is a hit!’.
“The album was all done, he had arrived to hear the final mix, and now he wanted us to add this silly track!”
Boston, Portland, Texas, LA, San Francisco… all over the USA, stations were picking up on the song. It not only became BTO’s sole million-selling single, it also helped the album it was on to rack up sales of three and a half million.
Randy couldn’t listen to it on his radio without switching it off in embarrassment and now it had become mandatory in the concert repertoire.
Proof once again, you can never predict what appeals to the masses.