A year and a half ago, in between arrogant responses to student questions, and just after calling the hundreds who came to confront him over Yale's exploitation of its workers, union busting, military research, etc. not "representative students," (inspiring Amelia Frank-Vitale's brilliant button), Yale President Rick Levin, fielding a softball question from a mildly insufferable drug-addled attention-grabber, proclaimed the music of today devoid of significance. His precise words were, i believe, that the music wasn't saying anything. Pursuant to my missing post about 3rd Eye Blind (worst band ever) and sonic colonialism, (a la Panama '89) as well as the point of this blog more broadly, it think music says a lot.



At the time, I wanted to (but didn't) send Levin the lyrics to the Coup's "Lazy Muthafucka."



Now when I go to bed it's almost time to wake up

Tryin' not to go to jail, tryin' not to cake up

And even when I serve soda it would be cold as fuck

Chillin' in my sock, servin' ice for ten bucks

And you'd be in the house, all warm and shit

In your Ascott sweater with the fire lit

And whatever you want you ain't gotta lift a finger

If you wanna a glass of water hit the maid on the ringer

Got a job for you under this hot ass sun

Tellin' me to hurry up and get some more shit done

I be so tired when I spit all my word slur together

Got so many calluses my hands are like leather

Watchin' MTV in your big ass chair

Tryin' out slang words while you comb your hair

Your productivity is wack bring that box here fo-sheezy

Go get some coffee, playa, punch out before you leave me

Got your feet up on the desk noddin' off to sleep

While I lift, push, pull, dig, sweat, and sweep

I could work hard all my life and in the end still suffer

Cause the world is controlled by you lazy motherfuckers



but in retrospect, perhaps a better action would have been to organize large numbers of undergrads to email the president the lyrics to "we can work it out."



Life is very short and there's no time

for fussing and fighting, my friend

I have always thought that it's a crime

So I will ask you once again



Try to see it my way

Only time will tell of I am right or I am wrong

While you see it your

There's a chance we might fall apart before too long

We can work it out

We can work it out



Hell. We could have even blasted it outside his window or something. Oh well. Judging by the continuing commitment on the part of the university to busting organizing drives and doing everything possible to avoid cooperating with its unions, maybe there will be future opportunities for such psy-ops for those who carry on the fight..



Like humming the imperial death march whenever Mike Morand walks into a room.