By
Clutch
Track 2 on
TRANSNATIONAL SPEEDWAY LEAGUE: ANTHEMS, ANECDOTES, AND UNDENIABLE TRUTHS
Like a fly to doo doo
You need me like a bird needs wings
Or
little bunny foo foo who needs to bop the field mice
So all the kids can sing
They call me El Jefe
El primo de los matadors
The master of the metaphor,
A chaw chewin' troubadour
The one you've come to love and adore,
And I've come to take you away
Take you away
Take you away
Take you away
Take you away
Take you away
Take you away
I'll make you go goo goo
Like a baby that sees candy right before its eyes
I'll kiss
your little boo boo
Make it better than it's ever felt before
They call me El Jefe
El primo de los matadors
The master of the metaphor,
A chaw chewin' troubadour
The one you've come to love and adore,
And I've come to take you away
I'll take you away now
I'll take you away now
Can you do the two step fleshtone slide?
Well
I'll teach you
Can you do the achy breaky eyeball dance?
Well I'll teach you
Can you do the
two step fleshtone slide?
Well I'll teach you
Can you do the
achy breaky eyeball dance?
Well I'll teach you
They call me El Jefe
The
boss and the point man
And I've come to take you away
They call me El Jefe
The boss and the
hit man
And I've come to take you away
While this at its base form is a "
I'm a cool mother fucker" song, I've always thought it to be an original take on such an otherwise
overdone theme. Everyone from
Limp Bizkit to
Michael Jackson has written “tough guy” songs. For the most part I find these songs hard to swallow. I mean, when
Johnny Cash tells you he’s bad; you believe it. When it comes from the king of pop, it seems less heartfelt.
There's a swagger to the music that helps to paint a portrait of a man, slick and yet greasy, desirable and yet filling you with feelings of unease. Nothing is
taboo for our subject. He’ll use anything from pronouncing his sexual prowess to taunting you with a child’s nursery rhythm to get his hands on you. He'll spit on the ground, and then smile at you through chew
stained teeth. He'll win your heart, or at least
talk the panties off you.
One of the things that stand out to me is the nature of this song in relation to other songs that appear on the album. While a lot of the songs are gritty, loud, and yet
comedically stirring, this song trumpets its satire in the first few notes of the band. Something in the music tells you that you shouldn’t take this song too seriously. Neil Fallon is not a sexist pig, but he’ll play one in a song to get you to laugh.
The music in this song is also simple, yet a great example of the tightness of the players. There are a few points throughout the song where the music wavers and trails off, then blasts back in. All three musicians hit their marks each time. I’ve seen this band play this song a few times in concert, and let me tell you there’s no “studio magic” going on here. This is the result of practice, talent, and countless hours at practice patiently going over this song. If their impetus is perfection then I can truly that they should feel mighty satisfied.
Email requesting permission for fair use of Clutch's lyrics was sent
September 26, 2003 to
management@pro-rock.com
Permission to reprint this lyric was received from Clutch via email on September 26, 2003
http://www.pro-rock.com/.
CST approved.