Hirsute Honey. I once loved a girl who was exceptionally well endowed with body-hair.
Hirsute Honey was a challenging production in many ways. The lyrics consist of a string of homonyms and archaic word use, and an assortment of eclectic argot. It has been suggested that my lyrics are unapproachable without a dictionary. During the process of introducing the band to this piece, I found that I needed to describe the different musical idioms to the band. I will reveal them here so that with you may sympathize with the convoluted terrain to which the musicians were subjected: It starts with (literally) foot-stompin’ jug-band-country-blues. (Foot stomps and clapping provided by percussionist Sheila Bosco.) The country-blues evolves un petit peux de zydecho. The vocals enter with 1920s-style jazz harmonies and textures, moving to 15th century courtly-Franco-German-troubadour-moment, culminating in a Appalachian blue-grass accented Texas blues build-up and break-down, entering a crooning swing, which is a gateway to Motor City funk which kicks into a bluegrassy country-western verse, (complete with yodeling), dropping us off at the corner of country and Chicago blues where we catch the bus back to a modified Motor City-Run DMC-funky hip hop with Surf-Stoner commentary and psychedelic harmonica, and an R+B refrain to letting us off at a Texas-blues-rock ending. Put it all together and I call it: “Hick-hop”.
lyrics
Hirsute Honey
Furry baby in her suit of down
Hirsute honey in her downy suit
Darling, downy, dolly,
how daintily she dallies;
daily.
Down the downs she dances her dance.
I see her and I glance her my glance.
Downy dolly, daring the drizzle.
Hirsute bedewed.
Yo! Her suit be cool, dude!
Hirsute honey;
Her honey heating in her hollow. (oo-woah-oo-woah!)
Hankering for fuzzy baby's honey. (Ding! Ding!)
Hankering for my honey's fuzzy.
My hirsute honey's fuzzy hollow.
Her heated honey hearkening me home.
Yo, hirsute be cool.
I gotta get home to my fuzzy baby;
her heated dewy hollow;
My fuzzy wuzzy home.
The StiKman sounds contemporary as the day after tomorrow, iconic as if written into your DNA before history began, and
quaint as your grandpa’s favorite song. He is the missing link between Zappa and Beefheart, and the bridge from Charles Ives to Burl Ives....more
