Our Finest Flowers(1992)OverviewTracksLiner NotesLyricsUncle Willie
This is The Residents' 20th Anniversary album: "Celebrating Twenty Long Dreary Years of Obscure Stardom", as it says on the back. Rather than put out a "greatest hits" album, the group took many of their best-known songs and ground them together, producing half-breed mutations. The songs are new and different and there is the added fun of trying to sort out which original songs make up the new ones.
- Gone Again
- The Sour Song
- Six Amber Things
- Mr. Lonely
- Perfect Goat
- Blue Tongues
- Jungle Bunny
- I'm Dreaming of a White Sailor
- Or Maybe a Marine
- Kick a Picnic
- Dead Wood
- Baby Sister
- Forty-Four No More
- He Also Serves
- Ship of Fools
- Be Kind to U-WEB Footed Friends
What's a group to do when it's twentieth birthday rolls around; when the only comparable lasting musical units are the Grateful Dead or The Rolling Stones, and they both have had members die, for christsake. Some people thought a nice collection of "greatest hits" would be a suitable observance. So The Residents tried to write down their "greatest hits" until suddenly one of the guys got a stomach ache and threw up on the song listing. The guy that made the mess had to wash the list off and in the process pretty well smeared the ink all around the paper. Everybody thought it was funny so they started reading the words, or at least what the words looked like. "Perfect Goat," one said. "I think we should put that on our album"
They knew the vomit was no accident, it was an omen. They tore the paper into little pieces and dropped them onto the floor. It was still wet. Some of the pieces you couldn't read anymore, but they didn't seem to care. Somehow, ideas came from those torn slips. And sure enough, "Perfect Goat" did make it on the album, along with fifteen other tracks that Dr. Frankenstein would have surely been proud to have stitched together. Yes, these are new songs. Just like all good pop music, there is something familiar about them, something friendly. But as you listen, never forget that vomit is at their core: twenty long years of painful regurgitation.
Expand allGone Again
Amusement parks are caked with sounds
A solid hunk of meat
A barker's sweat flings from his tongue
His tattoo shines with heat
A wary stranger stands and sways
Enraptured by his stance
Two-headed goats come stumbling by
And give a troubled glance
The barker looks into the eyes
The stranger tries to bend
The barker swears to more delights
For all who seek within
The stranger enters canvas doors
And smells the fresh cut hay
The barker points to Siamese twins
The stranger looks away
The eyes of horse faced women
Watch the few who wander through
They sense the tension in the air
And smell the sweet taboo
A heart beats fast against a chest
The stranger leaves the tent
The waves of people drown the sounds
Of loss of innocence
The Sour Song
Relatives on Easy Street
Smoke cigars right after they eat
They drive Cadillacs with leather seats
And everyone talks about
"You know they gave our baby girl a sterling silver cup,
It was awful sweet, just a little bit scratched up
Someone said their brand new sofa came from overseas
And they got a coffee table from somewhere back east"
"Well I heard they got a poodle dog, supposed to be from France
They sent their little girl away so she can learn to dance"
"They say he has a drinking problem, but nobody knows
If her hair is really red, but her face isn't so"
Like the smell of fresh-cut hay
On a sweltering Summer's day
Sugar melts and goes away
Sugar melts and goes away
But vinegar lasts forever
Six Amber Things
Life is just a situation
Life is just a game
Life is just a whirlpool
And I heard it call my name
Chew chew gum chew gum gum chew chew
Chew chew gum chew gum gum chew chew
Chew chew gum chew gum gum chew chew
Amber were the autumn leaves
Amber was her skin
Amber was the evening
When the whirlpool pulled her in
It was irresistible
Was what she used to say
Like the sound of running horses
Early in the day
Mr. Lonely
I'm the man in the dark sedan
I have come to take your hand
I was sent down here to be sincere, truthful and steadfast
I came to say that judgement day of man has come to pass
You follow me and I guarantee to take you far away
But we must leave before the eve of everlasting grey
I'm the man in the dark sedan
I have come to take your hand
People must be natural
I must make ours a happy home
You will leave this place and soon replace the names of those you know
With a brotherhood that has withstood the leeches and the snow
Perfect Goat
I've seen the golden goat
He would like to lick my throat
I know he's mean and poor
And he waits at my door
He's too weak to do me harm
But he has a big long arm
It fills my dreamy head
And then I shake and wet my bed
Well there's something I must tell you
There's something I swear
The only perfect love
Is the one that isn't there
The only perfect love
Is the one that isn't there
Blue Tongues
I love you and cause I do
My skies have changed
From grey to blue.
But blue's not just
A color of the rainbow.
It's shade is not a hazy hue
But pure and hard
My blue sky blue
It's like a Roman candle
Coming rosebuds.
My words are empty hollow bleatings
Of a mental crutch.
They're open festered indigestion
With a velvet touch
A coma with a sweet aroma
Is my only dream,
Malignant with the misconception
That a grunt can gleam.
My lichen covered corpuscles
Are filthy as a fist.
Infection is my finest flower
Mildewed in the mist.
Infection is my finest flower
Mildewed in the mist.
Infection, infection, infection, infection
I love you and cause I do
My skies have changed
From grey to blue.
But blue's not just
A color of the rainbow.
Jungle Bunny
Once there was a little man
And they called him Shoe Shine Stan
Everyday the man would sweep
Clutter from the busy street
Seldom did he say a word
At least that anybody heard
There was something in his face
That could never be erased
Could it be true? I understand
The meaning of that shoe shine man
Could it be true? I understand
The meaning of that shoe shine man
Like a little paper pup
He looked up from the broken cup
He drank his morning coffee in
And wiped the dribbles from his chin
Then I felt his eyes meet mine,
And he made a little whine
He came within an inch or two
And then he whispered "I hate you"
Could it be true? I understand
The meaning of that shoe shine man
Once I had some pets
And I let them starve to death
It was a silly little monkey
And a big white Easter Bunny
They lived in little cages
And sometimes in rages
I would turn them upside down
And drag the bunny all around
I'm Dreaming of a White Sailor
Sometimes I feel his feet
When I'm fast asleep
I know that I'm dreaming
But the touch is soft and sweet
I went to see the silent sailor
And the sailor said
"Do not forget my face, my friend,
For if you do I'm dead"
"Well I don't see how that could be"
I said to him as well
As peeling off a piece of paper
Stuck to my lapel
The sailor fell upon his knees
And then he fell beside
The cedar chest that he had carved
And then I think he died
Well this was curious, I thought
And so I wandered in
And saw that there was something written
On his wrinkled skin
"Well I thought the thoughts of little children
And the thoughts of men
I thought the thoughts of stupid people
Who have never been
So much in love as they should be
And got confused too easily
To fall in love again"
To fall in love again
"And so I say goodbye to you
And hope that maybe someday soon
We will meet again up there
For death is fair
And friends are few"
Friends are few, friends are few...
Or Maybe a Marine
A moisture laden syncopated
Automated thrill
Anticipation shrinkage
Will quickly drain a quill
Sinews crackled in the heat
Of noonday raptured thrill
A handful of desirous needs
That's much too soon fulfilled
I wanted to give it to someone else
And hear what they would say
I wanted to give it to someone else
And watch them as they played
I left it helpless all alone
And waiting on the floor
Squirming just a little bit
And looking at the door
He would take it as he wished
And I would listen in
Appreciating in my way
The sound of slapping skin
Kick A Picnic
Afterwards, it's like a dream
You can't remember but it seems
To stay alive inside your mind
And prey upon your leisure time
It happens in an open spot
The air is sticky and it's hot
First they take away our clothes
Then they lay us down in rows
A cloud appears and melts away
The flesh of some while others stay
Machines that look like little cars
Consume the bones and count the scars
Kick a cat, a cat, a cat today;
Fish are dumb, pluck an eye from one!
Is everbody ready for the picnic in the jungle?
Is everbody ready for the picnic in the jungle?
Is everbody ready for the picnic in the jungle?
Is everbody ready for the picnic in the jungle?
In a place that no one knows
We are prisoners of those
That no one sees and no one hears
But everybody hates and fears
Every day they leave a tray
And take an empty one away
On the tray are chicken legs
Potato salad and some eggs
Is everbody ready for the picnic in the jungle?
Is everbody ready for the picnic in the jungle?
Is everbody ready for the picnic in the jungle?
Is everbody ready for the picnic in the jungle?
Dead Wood
I wish I was bigger
I wish I was tall
I wish I had houses
Instead of this hall
Somebody put me
Inside it day
I know who it is
But he won't let me say
I wish I was something
I wish I was good
I wish I was made of
Mahogany wood
He looks at me sometimes
And sometimes he knocks
On doorways beside me
And sometimes he rocks
Me to sleep in a chair
For he knows that I need
Affection as much
As a cut needs to bleed
I wish I was something
I wish I was good
I wish I was made of
Mahogany wood
Baby Sister
Baby Sister don't
Baby Sister don't
Lick your lips and fingertips
Baby Sister don't do what your sister does
I seen her at the station
I filled her tank with gas
She looked at me and scratched her teeth
And asked me for a match
Baby Sister don't
Baby Sister don't
Lick your lips and fingertips
Baby Sister don't do what your sister does
I hate to see you all lonely
But she wouldn't say
If I could wear her underwear
Before she drove away
Baby Sister don't
Baby Sister don't
Lick your lips and fingertips
Baby Sister don't do what your sister does
Baby Sister don't do what your sister does
Baby Sister don't do what your sister does
Forty-Four No More
Once I lived on a dead end street
With a little bitty woman
With big ol' big feet.
It was always dark,
We was always poor.
The number outside was 44.
One day bad blood creeped in my mind
Sucked on my soul and made me blind
I thought she lied, so I opened the drawer
Pulled out my bullets and my 44.
Forty Four, it was Forty Four
He couldn't stand that number no more.
Forty Four, it was Forty Four
Don't wanna hear that number no more.
I found her in the store with a preacher man
Who laughed when she slapped the gun out' my hand.
A train went by as I ran out the door.
The number on the engine was 44.
I rode that train to New Orleans,
And took my tears to a Voodoo Queen.
I couldn't live like that no more
It was my birthday... I was 44.
Forty Four, he was Forty Four
He couldn't stand that number no more.
Forty Four, he was Forty Four
Don't wanna hear that number no more.
He Also Serves
Come and see the holy two-some.
They can heal and they can do some
Things that no one ever did before.
He really loved them, he really cared.
Silently I stood between them
Holding up the crimson gleaming
Circle with its ends not quite in line.
And then I lifted up the cover
Softly like it was my lover
And I felt them shudder as they sighed.
As I clamped the metal on it,
Something like a liquid donut
Shimmered by the holy union side.
Then the people screamed and shouted,
As the donut grew and sprouted
Little bitty dust balls made of fire.
And then these soon enough descended
Down the lines that finally ended
At the screams and unbelieving cries.
For soon the cripples would be walking
And the dummies would be talking
But no one knew exactly how or why.
Ship of Fools
Hatred has purity, hatred has size,
Hatred has purpose and hatred has eyes,
Hatred has honor and hatred here lies,
Hatred has hunger and it never dies!
Pain and pleasure are the twins
That slightly out of focus spins
Around us till we finally realize
That everything that gives us pleasure
Also gives us pain to measure it by,
And in order to survive.
Hatred has energy, hatred is near,
Hatred has carnage and hatred is clear,
Hatred is frustrating love for fear
Hatred is human and hatred is here!
All our lives we love illusion,
Neatly caught between confusion
And the need to know we are alive.
Be Kind to U-WEB Footed Friends
Instrumental
The Residents are proud. Proud of their twenty years of creative thinking and working. The decade-long cycle that they have always acknowledged has made its second turn and the group has paused to recap the last 7,304 days with two highly entertaining projects, Twenty Twisted Questions and Our Finest Flowers.
Twenty Twisted Questions is a laser disc from that most adventurous company, Voyager. The laser disc does a remarkable job of translating The Resident's career into a series of easily chewed tidbits. The years move so fast that there is a constant temptation to press the pause button just to spend more time digesting the image flow, a concept that is made easy by the single-frame format of the laser disc.
The first 30 minute side of the disc is the collection of �music video� that has made The Residents the godfathers of the medium. But it is the second side that really glows. The first half features three new videos of The Residents performing live. Live footage of the troupe is rare to begin with, but the theatrics they have designed are striking visual treats and this footage just leaves one begging for more. The final half of side two spends about 20 seconds on each year, showing photographs of the band, album covers (amusingly animated), and musical sound bites from each year. Each 20 seconds is so obviously the tip of a proverbial iceberg that the emotional impact is dazzling. There is a wonderful bonus track at the end of the disc that is just too cool.
Our Finest Flowers is the retrospective album. No, it is not a �greatest hits� thing (thank god). Instead it is a newly rethought excursion into the twisted and depraved minds that spent twenty years creating a bunch of music�and then, for some reason, decided to spend another few months dissecting that very same music and gluing it together in strange new ways. The uninitiated listener would think that it is no more than a new album. But the fan will discover an odd puzzle�and the more knowledgeable that fan is, the deeper the Residential insight goes.
These really are new songs! It is though the group wanted to say that song writing is just random shuffling after all. What better way to comment on twenty years of song writing than to prove it�s only Mr. Potato Head.
- Uncle Willie
