We think we know what we’re doin’
We don’t pull the strings
It’s all in the past now
Money changes everything. - Tom Gray, “Money Changes Everything”
One year ago today I published “If I Can’t Sell It…”, another in my series of hooker song columns, so I decided to follow it up today before taking a break from the subject for a few months; there are still lots of them I haven’t featured yet, but most of the ones I’m digging up lately are really negative (like Iron Maiden’s four-part “Charlotte the Harlot” series), and since these columns are meant to be light I really don’t like doing any of the “whores’ lives are nothing but degradation and despair” type unless I absolutely have to. In fact, let’s start with one that’s essentially a parody of that genre:
I’m Tired (Mel Brooks)
Here I stand, the goddess of Desire
Set men on fire
I have this power
Morning, noon and night it’s drink and dancing
Some quick romancing
And then a shower
Stage door johnnies constantly surround me
They always hound me
With one request
Who can satisfy their lustful habits?
I’m not a rabbit!
I need some rest!
I’m tired
Sick and tired of love
I’ve had my fill of love
From below and above
Tired, tired of being admired
Tired of love uninspired
Let’s face it, I’m tired!
I’ve been with thousands of men,
Again and again
They promise the moon
They’re always coming and going
And going and coming
And always too soon
Right girls?
I’m tired,
Tired of playing the game
Ain’t it a crying shame?
I’m so tired
God dammit I’m exhausted!
Tired, tired of playing the game
Ain’t it a crying shame?
I’m so tired!
[Male chorus:]
She’s tired (She’s tired!)
Sick and tired of love (Give her a break!)
She’s had her fill of love (She’s not a snake!)
From bellow and above (Can’t you see she’s sick?)
Tired (She’s bushed!)
Tired of being admired (Let her alone!)
Tired of love uninspired (Get off the phone!)
She’s tired (Don’t you know she’s pooped?)
I’ve been with thousands of men,
Again and again,
They sing the same tune!
They start with Byron and Shelly
Then jump on your belly
And burst your balloon!
Aye!
Tired, tired of playing the game,
Ain’t it a friggin’ shame?
I’m so…
Let’s face it, everything below the waist is kaput!
While we’re out west, let’s hear one from Texas favorites ZZ Top, whose song “La Grange” I featured last year in “Inappropriate Women”. Obviously the boys have a soft spot for working girls because this one is positive as well; while I was previewing the video Grace mentioned that Billy Gibbons’ first band, Moving Sidewalks, also had a couple, so I’ll try to dig one of those up for next time. Incidentally, the reason I chose this particular still image “video” rather than the one with their own album cover is that the movie From Dusk Till Dawn is about vampire whores.
Mexican Blackbird (Billy Gibbons, Dusty Hill & Frank Beard)
If you’re down in Acuña and you ain’t up to being alone
Don’t spend all your money on just any honey that’s grown.
Go find the Mexican blackbird and send all your troubles back home.
They all call her “puta” ’cause no one really knows her name.
She works the cantina, dancin’ and a-lovin’s her trade.
Her mama was Mexican and her daddy was the ace of spades.
(spoken) Oh, let’s drive that old Chrysler down to Mexico, boy.
Said, keep your hands on the wheel there.
Oh, it sure is fine, ain’t it?
Now, ya got it! Hand me another one of them brews from back there.
Oh, this is gonna be so good.
Mm, she’s hot as a pepper but smooth as a Mexican brew.
So head for the border and put in an order or two.
The wings of the blackbird will spread like an eagle for you.
(spoken) Oh, one more time,
Can you roll me another Bull Durham, please?
Can’t you do it with one hand, boy?
I’ve maintained a list of possible song candidates ever since I did my very first one over two years ago, and though our next selection has been on it since the very beginning I’ve resisted featuring it because, to be honest, I cannot stand Hall and Oates, and the song has rubbed me the wrong way since the very first time I heard it. Still, I can’t deny it fits the theme, and at least my research revealed it was written by Mr. Tubular Bells, Mike Oldfield (a fact of which I was previously unaware).
Family Man (Mike Oldfield & Tim Cross)
She had a sulky smile, she took her standard pose as she presented herself.
She had sultry eyes, she made it perfectly plain that she was his for a price.
(refrain) But he said, “Leave me alone, I’m a family man,
And my bark is much worse than my bite.”
He said, “Leave me alone, I’m a family man,
But if you push me too far I just might.”
She wore hurt surprise as she rechecked her make-up to protect herself,
Dropped her price and pride, she made it totally clear that she was his for a night.
(refrain)
She gave him her look, it would have worked on any other man around.
He looked her up and down, she knew he couldn’t decide if he should hold his ground.
(refrain)
She turned, tossed her head, unlike her opening move, her final exit line.
He waited much too long, but by the time he got his courage up she was gone.
Then he screamed “Leave me alone, I’m a family man,
And my bark is much worse than my bite!”
He said, “Leave me alone, I’m a family man,
But if you push me too far, I just might.”
Now, in order to exorcise that ear worm, I’d like to close with another one that’s been on the list for a while; actually it’s one of my all-time favorite songs from one of my all-time favorite bands, and the only reason I haven’t previously featured it is that it’s technically about that fabulous creature, the wealthy heterosexual male prostitute. But dammit, this is my blog and the lyrics (except for those in the bridge) are vague enough that they could just as easily be about an expensive call girl, and I know I’m not the only call girl who thinks so. This is Blondie’s second appearance in a song column as well; I featured “X Offender” in “Sweet Painted Ladies”.
Call Me (Deborah Harry)
Call on me, oh call up, baby.
Call on me, oh call.
Call on me, oh call up, darling.
I know who you are.
Come up off your calling chart.
I know where you’re coming from.
Call me (call me) on the line.
Call me, call me any anytime.
Call me (call me), I’ll arrive.
You can call me any day or night.
Call me!
Cover me with kisses, baby,
Cover me with love.
Roll me in designer sheets,
I’ll never get enough.
Emotions come, I don’t know why,
Cover of love’s alibi.
Call me (call me) on the line.
Call me, call me any anytime.
Call me (call me), I’ll arrive.
When you’re ready we can share the wine.
Call me.
Ooh, he speaks the languages of love.
Ooh, amore, chiamami, chiamami.
Ooh, appelle-moi, mon cheri, appelle-moi.
Anytime, anyplace, anywhere, anyway!
Anytime, anyplace, anywhere, any day!
Call me (call me) my love.
Call me, call me any anytime.
Call me (call me) for a ride.
Call me, call me for some overtime.
Call me (call me) my love.
Call me, call me in a sweet design.
Call me, call me for your lover’s lover’s alibi.
Call me (call me) I don’t mind.
Call me, call me any anytime…
Call me.
Oh, call me, ooh ooh ah.
Call me my love.
Call me, call me any anytime
