Welcome to another edition of Rich Karski’s A SONG I HEARD TODAY: the only online music review column that refuses to give out its presidential endorsement until one of the candidates promises to make Mulder and Scully kiss.
First and foremost I am going to make a programming announcement. Next week will be the final A SONG I HEARD TODAY of the season. After that, I will begin writing a weekly column about establishing financial stability in an unsure economy. THAT MEANS DICK PICKS IS BACK YOU GUYS!!!!! I’m going to start with the season previews, two divisions at a time for four weeks, and then football will be back and we can all pretend that baseball never even happened. Next week’s A SONG I HEARD TODAY will feature an artist very near and dear to my heart, so get excited, and I guess just finish reading this half-assed penultimate one since you’re already here anyway.
OH MY FUCKING GOD IT IS SO HOT OUTSIDE THAT I WANT TO PEEL OFF MY SKIN AND STRANGLE GOD WITH IT AND THEN LAUGH AS HE DIES AND THE WORLD DIES WITH HIM BECA– USE MY SKIN IS SO POWERFUL.
Fucking gross. Every time I step outside it feels like I’m walking in a giant bowl of broth, but broth that is made in a dirty toilet because in the summer the outside always smells like toilet. And then you get on the bus and your joy at feeling cool air is immediately shattered by the powerful smell of the people who have been wading through the same broth as you for several hours but also seem to have been in the deeper part of the toilet.
This is the time of year when a song can make or break your fucking day. Hear a song you love and you can start to ignore, and maybe even ENJOY the fact that we are being systematically attacked and murdered by the planet that we have forsaken for too long. Hear the wrong song, and you could be staring at an unsuccessful insanity plea BUT IF TWINKIES WORKED THEN WHY THE FUCK CAN’T FLEETWOOD MAC????
Anyway, today I heard one of those “problem” songs while riding a sweaty bus home, and it came on while we were going over a bridge and I sincerely considered the heroic act of running up and jerking the wheel to plunge us all into the harbor where the jellyfish could suck our bones dry (jellyfish have suckers, right? Like an octopus?)
That song was “What I Got” by Sublime, and holy shit is it a horrific mess of garbage ’90s nostalgia gone wrong.
Sublime is the favorite band of teenagers with tattoos who still smoke weed while they’re pregnant. They basically did for reggae what Limp Bizkit would later do for hip hop, so they pretty much just continued the tradition of white musicians beating black culture like white cops beat black civilians or white renters beat the character out of black neighborhoods or… well I guess they pretty much embody everything that is terrible about white people if Reagan had intended trickle down economics to only benefit weed dealers and people who sell sandals. Nobody even knew shit about their music until their lead singer had already died of a heroin overdose, so they’re kind of like the band Morphine if nobody was ever bummed out that the guy from Morphine died.
When you first hear this song, if you are not driven to commit a murder so heinous that Jeffrey Dahmer looks up at you from hell and calls you a sicko, you will notice that it is quite bad and plays really hard to the whole “I don’t need a job because me and this skateboard are going WORLDWIDE” crowd. This song was basically written to convince teenagers they never had to get a job and the economy sucks as a direct result of this bullshit record.
Early in the morning
Rise into the street
Seriously, fuck you.
Light me up that cigarette
Okay I’m listening…
And I’ll strap shoes on my feet
Oh fuck you and your shoes with straps.
Got to find a reason/A reason things went wrong
Hmmm… musical style? Lack of talent? Did your mother drink while she was pregnant?
Got to find a reason why my money’s all gone
I’m guessing probably heroin?
I got a dalmatian
Oh wow okay, never mind. That’s your problem. First of all, dalmatians cost like fucking two thousand dollars, and they’re so inbred that they end up having serious health problems very early in life. The vet bills alone must be astronomical. I’m really sorry for your poor dog’s health issues and the financial burden they’re putting on you.
And I can still get high
NOPE guess it was the heroin.
And I can play the guitar like a motherfucking riot
*Proceeds to play guitar like he’s auditioning for the world’s worst mariachi band* I’m going to guess you have painfully misunderstood the definition of either the word “guitar” or the word “riot.”
Life is too short so love the one you got/Cause you might get run over or you might get shot
“Enjoy your life! BECA– USE A PAINFUL DEATH COULD COME AT ANY MOMENT! Just ask me, the dead guy who loved life so much that he developed a crippling addiction to escape from it!”- Bradlus Sublime 1968-1996
Never start no static I just get it off my chest/Never had to battle with no bullet proof vest
Well sure, when you’re washing your bullet proof vest, you just throw some dryer sheets in and put it on tumble, and that should take care of the static, and you won’t face the embarrassing battle of your vest getting stuck to your undershirt. WE KNOW ABOUT LAUNDRY BRADLUS!
Take a small example take a tip from me/Take all of your money give it all to charity
“I know of this great charity called ‘Brad would like some opiates and could you please feed my hungry dog and pay for his hip surgery’ that is currently accepting donations. Cash or heroin preferred.”
Love is what I got/It’s within my reach/And the Sublime style’s coming straight from Long Beach
“Fuck you, we had NOTHING to do with this.”- Long Beach
It all comes back to you/You’ll finally get what you deserve/Try and test that/You’re bound to get served
Damn, that’s fucking deep. If only you could have summed up that bullshit lyric in one word that was created by Hindus three and a half thousand years ago. But they obviously did not have the vast intellect and cosmic understanding of some shirtless asshole drinking Old English in Long Beach. If only you hadn’t died you could have taught those savages a thing or two. But you died. Damn.
Love’s what I got/Don’t start a riot/You’ll feel it when the dance gets hot
Don’t worry though. As we learned from his guitar playing, Brad’s idea of a riot is a cool summer breeze tinged with the scent of vomit, so hold your nose and enjoy that cool air.
Love is what I got/I said remember that/Love is what I got/I remember that (2x)
Oh I’ll remember…
I don’t cry when my dog runs away
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?????!!!!
I don’t get angry at the bills I have to pay/I don’t get angry when my mom smokes pot/hits the bottle and goes right to the rock
Jesus. Fucking. Christ. You sure do have a lot of love for things that aren’t your mom and your fucking dog! “Hi, I’m Brad Sublime, from popular musical abomination Sublime. Dance getting hot this summer? Try a nice, cool glass of ‘Not Giving a Fuck About Your Missing Dog or Crack-Addled Mother.’ Taste the freshness!” I really wish your dog ran away and never came back and somebody else found him and actually fucking fed him instead of making him eat the flies that gathered around you and your friends’ mouths while you were nodding out. And I guess you should have helped your mom or whatever, but maybe she sucked too. Fuck you about the dog though. He didn’t do anything to deserve that.
Fucking and fighting it’s all the same
But livin’ with Louie Dog’s the only way to say sane
THE DOG THAT YOU LET RUN AWAY AND DIDN’T GIVE A SHIT???? OH NO NOW YOU’RE CRAZY I GUESS! I wish I could smash your dumb skeleton with your idiot band’s stand-up bass but you probably got cremated so your friends could smoke you in a joint because FUCKIN’ WHOAAAA DUDE AM I RIIIIIIIGHT???
Let the lovin’ let the lovin’ come back to me
Unless “The Lovin” is a cute nickname you have for your dog (which I wouldn’t put past you because you are clearly a bad idiot who is dead) then I still think you’re a real shithead.
He spends the rest of the song saying that the “What” that he teased as having in the title of the song is still love, even though the evidence above clearly refutes that. Although, I guess if what he truly had love for was heroin and nothing else, he proved us all right.
This song gets an F.
…and I’m NOT trying to disparage all people with addictions. I’m not sure if there’s a type of addiction I DON’T have. But Lou Reed, who loved heroin, wrote a song called “Heroin” and it was fucking GREAT. He wasn’t a fucking liar, and especially not a liar who was trying to fit into some bullshit genre that only served to sell stickers to put on desks in dorm rooms. The dude just liked smack. You have to own that shit. Then people will know you’re about to die and they’ll release your popular shit while you still have time to enjoy your windfall of drug money.