well, it's my day off so i've been on the couch thinking about my funeral. i'm telling you people you want to have this planned out. i have been to some positively dreadful wakes. boring, awkward, uncomfortable at best. so i thought some music would inject some life into the proceedings. so to speak. so hear it is: the feebs wake mix tape.
or mix cd. yea, i can make it shorter that way.
1. i hope you're happy now-elvis costello (let them know it's ok to laugh)
2. holocaust-big star ( yeah, you can laugh, but it's still a fucking funeral)
3. sweet leaf-black sabbath
4. alcohol-the kinks ( these two will honor two very important phases in my life. and i think one of them will kill me.)
5. everybody cares, everybody understands-elliott smith (yea, right)
6. $1000 wedding- gram parsons ("was supposed to be a funeral/it's been a bad,bad dsy)
7. lake of fire- meat puppets (you gotta have a religious song)
8. the dust blows forward 'n' the dust blows back- capt. beefheart (very profound)
9. paris 1919- john cale (if you don't know it, get it. you'll see.)
10. halleluhwah-can ( this will give folks a good 18 minutes to reflect. and piss if need be.)
11. these days-nico ("please don't remind me of my failures/i have not forgotten them)
12. what jail is like-afghan whigs ( you know )
13. the sun ain't gonna shine anymore -the walker brothers ('cuz i'm an egomaniac)
encore: thank you friends-big star (nice processional, i think. "wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you")
man, i can't wait to die!
posted by the feeb @ 10:14 AM
4 Comments:
F-ing brilliant! But I'm gonna wait for the re-issue. When you come back from the dead. Romero-style!
That's a great set! What can we all to to make this thing happen?
At my funeral, I'm going to make everyone sit through the entire discography of the Alan Parsons Project.
I'll also have hired animatronic experts who will use cables and pulleys to lift me out of the open casket so that I float above the mourners. Cue Pink Floyd as a hatch opens in the ceiling and I float out into the night sky, waving my dead arms as my mouth opens and closes to: "See you on the dark side of the moon!"
Unless I die in an explosion or am eaten by sharks, my preferred methods of departure.
I totally wnat your funeral. Maybe I'll kill myself this weekend ad steal it.
I don't want music at my wake, just that soundtrack from "The Exorcist" of pigs and flies, played at full volume. And me laid out with bugged-out eyes and a gaping mouth. And a dozen ten-year-old albino girls veiled in black, clawing and screeching at people who try to approach the coffin. Yes, that will do.
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