JB:
[narrating in song] A long-ass fuckin' time ago in a town called Kickapoo / There lived a humble family religious through and through / But yea there was a black sheep and he knew just what to do / His name was young JB and he refused to step in line / A vision he did see of fucking rocking all the time / He wrote a tasty jam and all the planets did align... [young JB enters playing a guitar]
Lil' JB:
[singing] Oh, the dragon's balls were blazin' as I stepped into his cave / Then I sliced his fucking cockles with my long and shiny blade / 'Twas I who fucked the dragon, fuckalye sing fuckaloo / And if you try to fuck with me then I shall fuck you too / Gotta get it on in the party zone / I gotsta shoot a load in party zone / Gotta lick a toad in the party zone / Gotta suck a choad in the party zone! [Jack's father takes him to his room and spanks him with his belt. A guitar riff is heard starting]
Jack's Father:
[singing] You disobeyed my orders son, why were you ever born? / Your brother's ten times better than you, Jesus loves him more / This music that you've played for us comes from the depths of Hell / Rock 'n' roll's the Devil's work, he wants you to rebel. [begins to tear down JB's rock 'n' roll posters]
Jack's Father:
You'll become a mindless puppet! Beelzebub will pull the strings! / Your heart will lose direction and chaos it will bring / You better shut your mouth, you better watch your tone / You're grounded for a week with no telephone / Don't let me hear ya cry, don't let me hear ya moan / You gotta praise the Lord when you're in my home! [Dad storms out, leaving only one poster: Ronnie James Dio]
Lil' JB:
[singing to the poster] Dio, can you hear me? I am lost and so alone / I'm asking for your guidance, won't you come down from your throne? / I need a tight compadre who will teach me how to rock / My father thinks you're evil, but, man, he can suck a cock / Rock is not the Devil's work, it's magical and rad / I'll never rock as long as I am stuck here with my dad. [the poster comes to life]
Ronnie James Dio:
[singing] I hear you brave young Jables, you are hungry for the rock / But to learn the ancient methods, secret doors you must unlock / Escape your father's clutches in this oppressive neighborhood / On a journey you must go to find the land of Hollywood / In the City of Fallen Angels, where the ocean meets the sand / You will form a strong alliance and the world's most awesome band / To find your fame and fortune, through the valley you must walk / You will face your inner demons, now go my son and ROCK! [JB jumps out the window and runs away from home]
JB:
[narrating in song] So he bailed from fucking Kickapoo with hunger in his heart / And he journeyed far and wide to find the secrets of his art / But in the end he knew that he would find his counterpart / Rock! / Rah-ha-ha-ha-hock / Rah-ha-ha-ha-ha... [babbles]
JB:
Rock!
It seems obvious, looking back, that the artists of Weimar Germany and Leninist Russia lived in a much more attenuated landscape of media than ours, and their reward was that they could still believe, in good faith and without bombast, that art could morally influence the world. Today, the idea has largely been dismissed, as it must in a mass media society where art's principal social role is to be investment capital, or, in the simplest way, bullion. We still have political art, but we have no effective political art. An artist must be famous to be heard, but as he acquires fame, so his work accumulates 'value' and becomes, ipso-facto, harmless. As far as today's politics is concerned, most art aspires to the condition of Muzak. It provides the background hum for power.
