Written by: Beck Hansen, Karl Stephenson
This Version:
Lyrics:
I'm standing right here with a beer in my hand
And my mouth is full of sand and I don't understand
Big fat fingers pointing into my face
Telling me to get busy cleaning up this place
Fourteen days, I been sleeping in a barn
Better get a paycheck tattooed on my arm
Whistling Dixie with the Dixie cup filled
With the barbecue sauce and the dental floss chilled
I got bent like a wet cigarette
And she's coming after me with a butterfly net
Riding on a bloodhound, ringing a bell
Black cat wrapped and I'm rolling up a hill
Pencil in my leg and I'm trying not to beg
Taking turns breaking words with the bacon and eggs
Now they got me in a birdcage flapping my jaw
Like a pretzel in the stars just waiting to fall
So give me what I got to get so I can go
'Cause I ain't washing dishes in a ditch no more
'Cause I ain't gonna work for no soul-suckin jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't sayin' jack
'Cause I ain't gonna work for no soul-suckin jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't sayin' jack
You know it! That's right
Rockin' the town like a moldy crouton
Flying through the air with grease
I got a job making money for the man
Throwing chicken in a bucket with a soda pop can
Puke-green uniform on my back
I had to set it on fire in a vat of chicken fat
I leaped on the counter like a bird with no hair
Running through the minimall in my underwear
I got lost downtown, couldn't find a ride home
The sun went down, I got frozen to the bone
Till a hooker let me share her fake fur coat
As I took a little nap, the cops picked up this fool
I tried to explain I was only trying to get warm
I knew I never ever should have burned my uniform
He said, "Too bad, better bite the bullet hard, son."
I didn't have no teeth, so I stole his gun
And I crawled out the window with my shadow and a spoon
Dancing on the roof, shooting holes in the moon
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah
And my mouth is full of sand and I don't understand
Big fat fingers pointing into my face
Telling me to get busy cleaning up this place
Fourteen days, I been sleeping in a barn
Better get a paycheck tattooed on my arm
Whistling Dixie with the Dixie cup filled
With the barbecue sauce and the dental floss chilled
I got bent like a wet cigarette
And she's coming after me with a butterfly net
Riding on a bloodhound, ringing a bell
Black cat wrapped and I'm rolling up a hill
Pencil in my leg and I'm trying not to beg
Taking turns breaking words with the bacon and eggs
Now they got me in a birdcage flapping my jaw
Like a pretzel in the stars just waiting to fall
So give me what I got to get so I can go
'Cause I ain't washing dishes in a ditch no more
'Cause I ain't gonna work for no soul-suckin jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't sayin' jack
'Cause I ain't gonna work for no soul-suckin jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't sayin' jack
You know it! That's right
Rockin' the town like a moldy crouton
Flying through the air with grease
I got a job making money for the man
Throwing chicken in a bucket with a soda pop can
Puke-green uniform on my back
I had to set it on fire in a vat of chicken fat
I leaped on the counter like a bird with no hair
Running through the minimall in my underwear
I got lost downtown, couldn't find a ride home
The sun went down, I got frozen to the bone
Till a hooker let me share her fake fur coat
As I took a little nap, the cops picked up this fool
I tried to explain I was only trying to get warm
I knew I never ever should have burned my uniform
He said, "Too bad, better bite the bullet hard, son."
I didn't have no teeth, so I stole his gun
And I crawled out the window with my shadow and a spoon
Dancing on the roof, shooting holes in the moon
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah
The Song:
This alternate recording of "Soul Suckin Jerk" can be found on the "Loser" single. Carl Stephenson, who collaborated with Beck on the Mellow Gold version of "Jerk," had nothing to do with this one. It was recorded with Tom Grimley at Poop Alley, where Beck did a number of songs from Stereopathetic Soulmanure as well.
I am not sure which version first. I would kind of guess this one did since it is a "reject" though.
Regardless, this "reject" version is different enough to be considered separately. Lyrically, it's pretty much identical, except the two verses have switched order for no reason. There are also some entertaining ad-libs in the middle ("Rockin' the town like a moldy crouton!").
Musically, this has a more minimalistic sound, especially when compared with Stephenson's funky layers of sound. The drumming is excellent, and the bassline grooves. The whole tempo is slower, giving the song more of a dreamy quality. The good fun comes at the end, after the second verse, where a bass solo begins the long outro. A cool keyboard jam joins in, and then some saxophones! The whole thing is the closest to jazz Beck has come on any recording.
This alternate recording of "Soul Suckin Jerk" can be found on the "Loser" single. Carl Stephenson, who collaborated with Beck on the Mellow Gold version of "Jerk," had nothing to do with this one. It was recorded with Tom Grimley at Poop Alley, where Beck did a number of songs from Stereopathetic Soulmanure as well.
I am not sure which version first. I would kind of guess this one did since it is a "reject" though.
Regardless, this "reject" version is different enough to be considered separately. Lyrically, it's pretty much identical, except the two verses have switched order for no reason. There are also some entertaining ad-libs in the middle ("Rockin' the town like a moldy crouton!").
Musically, this has a more minimalistic sound, especially when compared with Stephenson's funky layers of sound. The drumming is excellent, and the bassline grooves. The whole tempo is slower, giving the song more of a dreamy quality. The good fun comes at the end, after the second verse, where a bass solo begins the long outro. A cool keyboard jam joins in, and then some saxophones! The whole thing is the closest to jazz Beck has come on any recording.