Born on The Moon By CCR Or The Whole of The Bayou by The Waterboys
Once again it’s another great interdimensional musical crate crawl by Illuminati Ganga agents 9, 19, and 84. Otherwise known as The DJs of Evil!
However Agent 9 has been missing for some weeks now and there’s some people who think he may not be returning, and those people have gone ahead and eaten all the stuff from the shared fridge marked “Agent 9 Only, Do Not Touch”, so in the words of Bill Fakespeare — A Pox on Some People.
And Agent 84 is down sick with dysentery he picked up from that Jungle excursion looking for the lost corpses of Duran Duran, so he isn’t showing up.
That means it was only going to be me, Agent 19 to look through the crates of every reality. That’s obviously not enough, I would prefer three but need at least two, so I sent out a message asking for volunteers. IG Agent 18 showed up.
IG Agent 19: You’re the only one who came? I said there’d be free beer!
IG Agent 18: Just me — anyway I don’t like beer much.
IG Agent 19: What.. you.. ok, well why should I pick you, I need someone that knows about music, you’re a poet.
Damn, if only I could steal Agent 99’s time machine and go back in time and warn myself off of ever saying that line again, because I had to put with a solid hour holy nerdwallop about poetry is the origin of all human music, all human art and expressions and etc. etc.
Without ever dealing with the issue if all human expression is so great, why is the end result me wishing I could blow my brains out rather than listening to a master of it go on and endless on about it.
IG Agent 19: Ok, ok, I get the picture. But still I’m not convinced This is about rock and roll and doing not nice things in its service, so I’m just gonna have t…
IG AGENT 18 & the LONG ANECDOTE
In the early years of my adulthood I was thrown restless upon the world, possessed only of the will to write great poetry without any means to fare for myself (which is often the case for someone with such an overweening ambition)
It is well-known that poets are drawn from the classes where wealth is enough to allow people to not do any useful work and still spend all day writing and reading, not being possessed of any great fortune I hit on the expedience of crime.
I would commit crimes of various sorts, generally small, but enough that one could live for a few days on a few hours work and thereby give the rest of my time over to the muse.
IG AGENT 19: Can you try to speak a little bit less like a 19th century traveloque — or is that part of the experience?
So this all took place when I was working a big score, guaranteed to give me enough money to write for a year unencumbered.
During this time I was crashing at the apartment of Bob and Carol (B.C), they had a small studio in which they were letting basically every street kid crash if need be. While waiting for the score I was making money by going out shoplifting during the day and then returning the stolen items for money back or credit vouchers. A lot of the bigger stores gave credit vouchers that could be used for food and the like, so basically while B.C. made sure there was an apartment for everyone to crash at I made sure there was food for everyone, which was my share of the expenses. There was also a great superfluity of drugs available at all times.
Over time a small community grew up in the household, consisting of:
- L.S — who claimed to be the daughter of Satan. but was unfortunately not herself possessed of those gifts that would show stalwart men the allure of evil. (IG AGENT 19: Whoa, that’s a classy poet’s way of saying she was a dog. Superclassy!)
Her two underlings in evil were
2. Little Nicki and Anise —underdeveloped and characterless, they did however provide some needed plot development as will be seen. Their male counterparts, character depth wise, were
3. Paul and Little J. Two runaways from one of those desert torture-camps for teens Republicans like to unload their minor resentments on.
4. Alex DeLarge
Now as it happens that was obviously not his real name, he had given himself this name as a homage, as is often the case, to a character he was nothing like. Appearance wise he looked like the Robert Smith Bobblehead, with a necklace consisting of one large bone. Why the bone, to cultivate an occult mystique.
5. Rob the Robitussin man — he got the name because every night he went out and stole two family size bottles of Robitussin. Rob’s backstory was essentially that of Cameron in the old teen movie from the 80s — Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. In fact some days before this all happened Rob the Robitussin man, Paul and Little Jay and guy named Trey went out and stole Rob’s dads Porsche and drove it real fast down some streets not made for driving real fast and crashed, after which Trey went to the hospital and Rob limped home to the squat. In the next few days he spent a lot of time talking about how his dad only loved the car and he had to take a stand and he was tired of being afraid.
6. Wren — sometimes on, sometimes off, girlfriend.
So some nights later it was a typical day in the household, I was sitting on the couch reading Lafcadio Hearn, the house was especially messy because B.C. had been packing, planning on taking a little trip to California to get better drugs, enabled by Rob the Robitussin Man and Little Jay who had promised to get them some cars (supposedly enough cars that everyone could go at once, 5 cars — 3 of which were legal)
Rob the Robitussin man was walking around the room torching flies, by using a hair spray and a lighter. This naturally freaked Carol out, as she had a fear of fires started in small cramped locales filled up with combustible paper, fabrics and chemicals. Laying on the mattresses in the far corner of the room, stuffed high with sleeping bags and several dozen pillows she told Bob “The house is going to burn down, all these people walking around smoking, and Rob torching flies and there are papers all over the place and blankets and fancy clothes made out of artificial fibers! And I know I’m not cleaning this place up! I think we should get out of here, we’re leaving for California in the morning”
At this point Bob stood up and announced “Listen up people, I think all this stuff we’re doing, we’re gonna end up with the house burning down tonight”
L.S then said “That’s right everyone, the house is gonna burn down tonight!”
Bob: “No, we’re not going to burn down the house on purpose there are just a lot of pieces of paper around and flammable materials and people walking around setting things on fire, it’s just going to happen”
L.S: “That’s right the house is just going to burn down BY ACCIDENT, OK!?” *Wink*, *Wink*
Bob: “We’re going to California in the morning in 5 cars, 3 of which are legal, and despite the obvious obligations one has in such circumstances, given the likelihood of the house burning down we will not be doing any cleaning beforehand!”
L.S: “That’s right the house is going to burn down and we don’t need to clean up!”
Bob: “But not on purpose”
L.S: “It’s inevitable!”
Anise: “I think I’m gonna do it”
Bob: “We’re leaving now, anyone wants any of our stuff, our music, our books, you can have it”
L.S: “Do what you want, there’s no more rules!”
So B.C. gathered up a bag’s worth of things and made themselves scarce, people started going through the big crates of music that they had there. I definitely wanted some specific items but I was too lazy, being a poet, to actually look for them.
Alex was the one who stuck around most, I have to give him credit, for a human cartoon character he did have decent taste, just as it looked like he was going to give up being near the bottom he announced with glee “Lou Reed!”
“That’s mine” I said.
He looked uncertain for a second, but obviously had an innate sense of fairness. “Oh yeah, what is it then?”
“Lou Reed, Behind the Blue Mask!” (Which I knew was the only Lou Reed they had)
He sadly handed it over, shortly thereafter he gave up his search.
Rob the Robitussin man and Little Jay got Bob’s bow and arrows and were going to shoot them off inside the apartment, so I told them “No you can’t shoot off the bows and arrows inside the house”
“Can we shoot them at the lesbians next door?” By which I assume they meant at the apartment of the poor ladies that lived next door and had to put up with our crap.
“No, you can’t shoot at the lesbians next door” I’ve often noticed that in moments of extreme anarchy it falls to the outlaws and poets to instill order.
IG Agent 19: wanking movement with hand
“How about at the house across the street?”
“No, you can’t shoot at the house across the street”
“What about the tree across the street?”
A wise ruler knows when it is time to lighten the rule of law, so as to not seem oppressive, so I answered “Ok, you can shoot the arrows at the tree across the street”
So they shot the arrows at the tree across the street, however they were not especially good shots and missed the tree quite a bit and hit the house behind it instead.
Suddenly most of the residents of the apartment decided to leave, to go to the local Illuminati Tribal Haus which was a 3 hour walk away, they should be able to get there right as it closed, which would put them at prime drug scoring time. I know you’re thinking wait, didn’t these people have drugs?
IG Agent 19: The thought hadn’t crossed my mind.
And they did have drugs, lots of drugs, but they wanted more, lots more. So they took off.
At which point I decided to take a nap, being tired, and I used the IG meditation and mindfulness techniques as I fell asleep to tell me to wake up as soon as I heard L.S.’s voice, as I knew that would be when things were kicking off.
4:46 AM, L.S. shouting “Everybody get out now”
Nicki: “Are we gonna burn him too”
L.S: “No but we need to get out now”
So everyone got out except for Rob the Robitussin Man and Anise, at which point a nitpicky little argument took place. Anise wanted to set fire to the house and leave, because if they woke me up I would prevent them setting fire to the house. Rob on the other hand wanted to wake me up. I was definitely siding with Anise, my plan was they set fire to the house, leave, I get up put out the fire, lock the doors, and go back to sleep.
Unfortunately Rob the Robitussin Man won.
The came and woke me up and I pretended to be a bit confused when I first woke up.
Anise: “IG Agent 18 — listen, this is important. I just got a phone call from Bob and Carol, they are in trouble and stranded downtown. They need you to go to them — RIGHT NOW!”
IG Agent 18: “No Anise”
Anise: “Why not!?”
IG Agent 18: “Because I believe you’re going to burn down the house as soon as I leave”
a short pause as they looked at each other. Then, the regroup.
Anise: “Do you know why we want to burn down the house?”
IG Agent 18: “A.. message .. from God?”
Anise (exasperated voice): “NO, there are pieces of paper with people’s name on them all over this house, and we are going to California in the morning in 5 cars, 3 of which are legal! A couple of days ago Rob stole his dad’s Porche and crashed it..”
Rob the Robitussin man, nodding: “That’s right, I had to make a stand. I was tired of being afraid”
Anise: “So when the cops come to look for him they will find this house with all these pieces of paper in them, so they will read the pieces of paper and then they’ll find out — HALF OF THE SCENE ARE RUNAWAYS! And are wanted for crimes”
IG Agent 18: Laughs
Anise: “Besides which Bob wanted us to burn down the house, and it’s his house”
IG Agent 18: “He did?” This didn’t seem that unlikely, one possible interpretation of the speech earlier was that Bob wanted the house burned down.
Anise: “right it’s Bob’s house and he wants it burned down”
Rob the Robitussin Man: “Bob wants the house burned down, and it’s his house man”
IG Agent 18 — mulling it over: “Alright, burn down the house”
So they took a couple sweaters and a notebook and put them on top of the stove, turned it on high and then used the hairspray and lighter that Rob the Robitussin man had been working earlier that night to set fire on the large mattress that Bob and Carol normally slept on. Then we left, flames jumping around behind us.
After we left the following things happened —
Paul and Little Jay were across the street when they saw the house on fire and evidently said “Oh my god, IG Agent 18 is in there!” Then they ran across the street, up stairs and saw that I was not there, so they left again.
My girlfriend Wren came back to the apartment with Eileen, her favorite drug dealer. She saw the house was on fire and said “Oh my god, IG Agent 18 is in there” so she ran upstairs and saw that I was not there, came back and they drove away.
The fire department came shortly after that (they were very close to the house actually) and they put out the fire, then they left.
Anise, Rob the Robitussin Man, and I went downtown to a little concrete park where the street kids tended to congregate during the day. In a few hours Bob and Carol showed up, Bob saying “I don’t believe it, I don’t believe it! They burned down my house!”
Nobody left for California that day in 5 cars, 3 of which were legal. But the next day L.S. and Anise got out of town as there were some police officers looking for them. They got to San Francisco where they evidently had some sort of fight and L.S. announced that Anise had fucked up everybody’s destiny, and then left her there.
Conclusion
Come one that is a super rock and roll story and also I did some bin diving and used my natural wiles to keep Lou Reed’s Behind the Blue Mask in my possession.
IG Agent 19: Right, I’m not gonna argue now, you’ve already given me an extremely annoying headache.
Anyway the premise of these articles are that we take a couple artists and songs from Alternative universes and compare them to determine which is better.
IG Agent 18: Do we have snacks, I need something to snack on. How about jalapeno poppers, I can fry some up?
IG Agent 19: Oh-kayyy
So.. the two artists we will be considering today are Creedence Clearwater Revival and Mike Scott (during the early Waterboys years), and uhm, you know what I am still a little freaked out by your story.
IG Agent 18: What? Why?
IG Agent 19: You let them burn down the house?! That is an impressive level of amoral stupidity right there. Not to mention reckless disregard for consequences, I knew you were a great Poet, but I didn’t think you were that Great!
IG Agent 18 frying poppers.
IG Agent 19: Anyway, gotta put it behind us. Our artists today are both from Universe SPurlos a universe very close to ours but where some of the signature differences were that:
CCR did a lot of acid at the wrong moment and decided to make a masterpiece concept album to make sure everyone knew they were better than the Grateful Dead (who at the time had all the critical accolades of every stoner in San Francisco) and that the Moon landing happened a year earlier on March 5th, another minor difference that had far reaching consequences for music is that a young Mike Scott’s family moved from Scotland to work the oil fields n Louisiana and as a consequence a young man was not so steeped in Celtic rock and punk as he was in the funky sounds of Allen Toussaint and the Neville Brothers
Now the question is which of these artists sucked and which …
IG Agent 18, putting poppers onto plate: Every version of CCR where they did not go down the hallucinogenic Bayou freakout route absolutely sucked balls!
IG Agent 19: What?
IG Agent 18: I’ve done incredible amounts of research on this (munch, crunch) mmm, every version of CCR in every reality where the band significantly diverges from ours sucks.
Universe Fodoriel, where Fogarty got off on a pirate obsession and Suzie Q was sung by a fellow to the lass he left back in port, sucked.
Universe Deimos, where Mario Puzo’s The Godfather was published a year earlier in 68, Fogarty read it and then went on a decade long mafia kick — so much great music destroyed by just one little incident like that. I mean in that Universe Fortunate Son is all about how hard it is to be a Capo! Side benefit - a lot of Vietnam war movies got less obvious soundtracks.
From some vantage I suppose these two seem somewhat similar — CCR and Mike Scott that is, talents for creating a separate world of pop that run along for some years but whose later work seemed derivative of their earlier work.
But CCR it seemed was very easy to break in a million different ways and make less essential than they were in our world, and Mike Scott as a talent was able to be changed in a million different ways but always produced works of value in the various Universes I have seen him in.
Leading me to conclude that Scott was inevitable, and CCR a unique and rare miracle.
IG Agent 19 eating poppers: What the fuck! What is this?
IG Agent 18: Half of these have cheddar cheese, the other half Roquefort.
IG Agent 19: You gotta warn somebody! Roquefort! (spitting)
IG Agent 18: Ok that’s your warning. In fact there is some argument that this version of Mike Scott was one of the strongest, the song “The Whole of The Bayou” about a young Cajun man who takes his raft all the way down the Bayou Bartholomew in the late 1800s to marry a girl his mother has warned him against is absolutely brilliant, a 7 and half minutes long zydeco / funk workout, I’ve seen him do it in concert in which all the other songs were subsumed into this one, in which the whole concert was an extended mix of this monster hit and let me tell you everybody danced from beginning to end.
Another benefit to this version of Mike Scott, his Hank Williams connection was made stronger in this universe, and his 3 different songs about Hank fit his Louisiana background much better than Has Anybody Seen Hank in our Universe
IG Agent 19: Well that’s great, now what are we supposed to do? Normally these things work we try to talk up the two works, pluses — downsides, and at the end we draw a conclusion on which is better and our sponsors are happy.
IG Agent 18: Sponsors?
IG Agent 19: Yes! Our sponsors this week are the Carnegie Deli New York City . Great pastrami and corned beef sandwiches, lox, and cheesecake by the pound!
Remember if you come in any time between 1945 and 1970 tell the guys behind the counter “There is always time for Cheesecake” for a 10% rebate on your order.
Carnegie Deli: “If you can finish your meal, we’ve done something wrong.
IG Agetnt 18: Ok well, I didn’t want to mess up the format, uhm, the song “Born on the Moon” by CCR had some nice guitar work and lyrics about oxygen, which sucked. Only consume bayou approved CCR, Mike Scott seems to be pretty good in most universes I’ve seen him in.
IG Agent 19: I don’t think I wanna do any more music recommendation posts with you.
This article has been written by IG Agents 18 and 19.
IG Agent 18 is the author of the Mixtape of Taliesin — a book of Poetry (affiliate Link below)
