HowTaDuit, Bros
Aug 16 '00 (Updated Aug 19 '00)
If ya wanna start a band
Entertain this wondrous land
And along the way put money in your pocket
Here are tips to guide your way
To fame and fortune, I must say
So you'll fly atop the heap a la a rocket
Find a friend with a big garage
For your musical montage
Who has neighbors who are practically deaf
Older folks might be the best
With no dog who'd be a pest
If it finds that you are musically bereft
Buy some big old junker amps
And some speakers and some lamps
For those wee hour sessions you'll be having (lightly!)
If garage wiring's 14 weight
Upgrade now to 10 (or 8!)
So the amperage won't fry its circuits nightly
If you have a friend (or seven)
Who can play "Stairway To Heaven"
Just invite them over for a jam or two
Turn the volume up real loud
Crank reverb til meter's bowed
And then play your brains out til they turn to goo
You will find as you get deafer
That instead of tortured heifer
The group sounds like real pros on MTV
Practice all your favorite covers
Til your set and you are lovers
And you're ready for that first gig handily
Try to snag a classy place
Like a bar with lots of space
So the patrons have a lot of dancing room
Cuz you know when you get tripping
Down the aisles they'll all be skipping
Just to trip the light fantastic to your tune
Try to minimize the time
That you tune up and refine
All those songs you brought along for them to hear
This avoids the hearty blow
"Why not play something you know!"
From that guy who's had a smidgen too much beer
After years of playing bars
You will wear considerable scars
This results from the cliche of paying your dues
Always hold out for some money
If the barmaid tells you, "Honey,
we have always paid our past bands with our booze!"
If you find a venue strange
With cowpersons who're deranged
Like the Blues Brothers in old Bob's Country Bunker
Decide quick if you will try
Some old standards, bye and bye
Or just chicken out and behind organ hunker
That fair day will soon arrive
When someone reveres your jive
And offers to be the agent of your band
If he ducks a polygraph test
Then just offer shady rest
As you search for Mr. Right out in the land
If you practice with compunction
And the planets reach conjunction
Columbia Records will come calling, ain't it fine?
Offering large amount of monies
Groovy drugs or luscious honeys
Just to get your Hancock on the dotted line
Now you're playing Albert Hall
Life's a really nifty ball
Every day brings something new with which to deal
You're atop the charts now weekly
And there's nothing happening meekly
There's no day in which you happen to miss a meal
These are, my friend, the times
To save lots of nickels and dimes
For those far-off days when fame seeks out another
If you cannot hedge a nickel
You will find Ma Fame is fickle
And in time can prove to be a real mother
In your dotage, trust me, son
Try to get on VH-1
In one of those Where Are They Now pathetic wheezes
It may seem a bit low rent
But that gig is heaven-sent
When your group is running low on bread and cheeses
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Member: Dave Fietz
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