Thuh Musik Industry Sux!

Golden Earring - Ce Soir

Remember that song called "Kill me"
From Vick Timm's last LP
Too much of a risk
for a golden disc
The price he paid for money

Ce soir, Ce soir
Assassination d'un rock 'n roll star

Sing your song, you can't go wrong
Attempted his business adviser
No need for alarm
you'll come to no harm
He didn't mention the sniper

Ce soir, Ce soir
Assassination d'un rock 'n roll star

The news is read, the meaning spread
One yawn, two yawn, and back to bed
Turn off the light and hold me tight
Come on maman, bend down your head
And just sing on, immortal song
Fini belle vie, bonne nuit

Remember that song called "Kill Me"
A lecture on political chicanery
of people's rape
recorded on tape
Bought shame to the presidency

Tonight, tonight
One more point for human right

Remember that song "Kill Me"
once used by a man from Galilee
He had nothin' to lose
He was king of the Jews
Secured his place in history

Ce soir, Ce soir
assassination d'un provocateur

The news is read, the voice is spread
One yawn, two yawn, and back to bed
Turn off the light and hold me tight
Come on maman, bend down your head
And just sing on, immortal song
Fini belle vie

Vick played the part, with all his heart
He wasn't prepared for the shock
When howling lead
bit into his head
A new martyr for the book of rock

Ce soir, Ce soir
Assassination d'un rock 'n roll star

 

this is the first one to spring to mind, together indeed with the ones you already mentioned.

Peter Hammill, "Two or Three Spectres", from his album "Nadir's Big Chance".

Two or Three Spectres

"Sod the music," said the man in the suit,
"I understand profit and without that, it's no use.
Why don't you go away and write commercial songs;
come back in three years, that shouldn't be too long..."
He's a joker and an acrobat,
a record exec. in a Mayfair flat
with Altec speakers wall to wall,
a Radford and a Revox and through it all he plays
strictly nowhere Muzak.
        
"Hey, listen, baby, this band's got a lot of soul...
if we can beat that out of them I see a disc of gold!
Give them an image, maybe glitter, maybe sex,
maybe outrage, maybe elegance -
how about as nervous wrecks?"
Signs up the product at two percent,
justified by vinyl shortage and the increased rent
on the yacht he has to hire to make his pitch at Midem
and all the press receptions for his business friends
who spill their Taittinger upon the floor
while the band sip English lager just outside the door.
        
Treble, alto, bass clefs on the page,
crotchets, quavers, minims all the rage
but you'll never find a pound note in the score -
it's there when it's strictly merchandise,
through all the propagated lies about what the whole thing's for.
He'll make you a star, he'll make you so famous
that all you desire is to be left nameless,
drained of all you felt you had to offer at the start.
        
Not without blame, either, are the gentlemen of the press:
you can talk about the state of music,
they will write about your dress.
Play them the new album, they will say it's great (or not) -
when the articles come out, they're all about
how many dogs you've got.
God to keep the human interest high,
and the hacks are only too willing to comply,
pander to the ego, build up frail men as gods -
but somewhere in the process, the prime purpose is forgotten.
        
Groupies offer their bodies, the hangers-on their coke;
it's all very jolly - what a joke!
Fellini creatures cluster round the dressing-room,
the heavenly bodies all got to have their moons.
In the cult of the superman the music plays a supporting role
and far more important is the shape of his nose,
the size of his codpiece and the cut of his clothes...
soul and feeling always take second place
to the bump and grind of a Fender bass.
Frankly, most musicians bore me - but not as much as those
who chase the glory to bask in reflected light,
making the man much more important
than his arpeggios and mordants,
when it's the other way that's right.
        
On the values by which this world makes its heroes
then the best violinist ever was Nero,
because he had the most Press
and his fire gimmick was simply the best.
        
We got the live thing too,
the Human Zoo:
Ten thousand arms are raised, just like the Hitler Youth -
ten thousand peace signs mark the entry of the sax.
Ten thousand peace signs,
but they're different from the back.

Edited by BaldFriede

Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers' song Joe:

My name's Joe, I'm the CEO
Yeah I'm the man makes the big wheels roll
I'm the hand on the green-light switch
You get to be famous, I get to be rich

Go get me a kid with a good lookin' face
Bring me a kid can remember his place
Some hungry poet son-of-a-bitch
He gets to be famous, I get to be rich

Or bring me a girl
They're always the best
You put 'em on stage and you have 'em undress
Some angel whore who can learn a guitar lick
Hey! Now that's what I call music!

Well they'll come lookin' for money when the public gets bored
But we'll fight 'em with lawyers they could never afford
Yeah I'll make her look like a spoiled little bitch
She gets to be famous, I get to be rich

Or bring me a girl
They're always the best
You put 'em on stage and you have 'em undress
Some angel whore who can learn a guitar lick
Hey! Now that's what I call music!

So burned out Johnny thinks the books are shifty
What good's that alchy to me when he's fifty?
Well we could move catalog if he'd only die quicker
Send my regards to the gig and a case of good liquor

He gets to be famous, I get to be rich
He gets to be famous, I get to be rich

My name's Joe, I'm the CEO
I'm the man makes the big wheels role

 

Mister Ten Percent (Bad Deal) from one of my favourite albums (TRIUMVIRAT - Illusions On A Double Dimple):

Hands off, mister ten percent!!!
We've got a gig tonight! Ha!!
Do you think we're gonna pay your rent?
Working for you 'til the end of our life!!

 

Your stories of success and fame
have turned the eyes quite wet, yeah!!
And striving for a better life...
We filled your money bag!!!!

 

A big mercedes
a house on a hill
a week in sweden
and we're paying the bill!

 

We paid your dinner
but not for long,
as we get thinner
taxis, hotels,
so on, and so on...

 

Hands off, mister ten percent!!!
We've got a gig tonight! Ha!!
Do you think we're gonna pay your rent?
Working for you 'til the end of our life!!

 

At first you took ten, tomorrow it's twenty!!
The more we give the more you want, ha!!
How could you think that you're still a friend??
It might be fifty in the end!!

 

Neil Young's "This Note's for you" was primarily a swipe at Michael Jackson's tour being sponsored by Pepsi:

"This Note's For You"

Don't want no cash
Don't need no money
Ain't got no stash
This note's for you.

Ain't singin' for Pepsi
Ain't singin' for Coke
I don't sing for nobody
Makes me look like a joke
This note's for you.

Ain't singin' for Miller
Don't sing for Bud
I won't sing for politicians
Ain't singin' for Spuds
This note's for you.

Don't need no cash
Don't want no money
Ain't got no stash
This note's for you.

I've got the real thing
I got the real thing, baby
I got the real thing
Yeah, alright.

Here's another song from Gilbert's Shaming of the True:

.

.
.
It’s got tattoos, it’s got a pierced hood it’s got generation X
It’s got lesbians, and vitriol, and sadomasochistic latex sex
It’s got Mighty Morphin’ power brokers, and Tanya Harding nude
Macrobiotic lacto-vegen non-confrontational free range food
It’s got the handshake, peace talk, non-aggression pact
A multicultural interracial non-segregated historical fact
.
Say Amen. Hallelujah! Say Amen
It’s a certifiable number one smash
Hallelujah. Amen.
Certifiable undeniable solid platinum number one smash.
.
It’s got more hooks than a tackle box , it’s got really loud guitars
It’s got a blasting cap in the fertilizer, got the secret anguish of the network stars
It’s anti-fur, it’s unplugged, it’s got an OK from the Pope
Got art nails and a Wonderbra, and dread lock blunt rolled Buddha dope
Got the head nod, the finger pistol, the nose up in your crack
Montel, and Geraldo, and the women who hate the men that hate them back
.
Say Amen! Hallelujah! Say Amen
It’s a certifiable number one smash
Hallelujah! Amen!
Certifiable undeniable solid platinum number one smash.
.
Video Pitch:
.
Now I gotta tell ya about the video idea…your really gonna love this!
We start out in one of these rural churches in the middle of Alabama somewhere
and they’re havin’ this gigantic rave up gospel church festival
with fat women with their hands in the air yellin’ amen and hallelujah
and our boy, our hero, he’s right in the middle of it and religious fervor is just exploding off of his body
behind the alter of this church there’s this gigantic icon of a black Jesus Christ…who our boy later licks.
Smash cut to him on a hillside dancing wildly, half naked, with his undulating midriff sweating profusely in front of hundreds and hundreds of burning crosses
Smash cut back to the church only now it’s not a church right, it’s a courtroom
and the priest has become a judge and the choir’s become the Jury and black Jesus is on trial for raping our boy
So this really angry contingent of  fat trucker lookin’ guys sweeps up black Jesus beats him senseless and throws him in prison
where our boy takes pity on him, goes to him, weeps in front of the bars and then gives him a hand job through them.
but it’s all shot by Herb Ritz so it’s really beautiful and you feel sorry for both of them
All right, all right…so that we don’t offend everybody in the whole f**king world
at this point these two gigantic beautiful red velvet curtains close from either side of the screen and then reopen and the whole cast of the video takes a bow like it was a play or somethin’ right!…get it?
All right well, if you don’t get that you’ll get this…when those receipts start tearin’ in from all over the world you’re gonna kick the almighty god ass my friends because sixty billion flag waving fans in every stadium in the f**king planet are gonna be yellin’!…
.
Sequins, bell bottoms , peace and hope and love
OJ and VR and Elvis Jackson with a Blue Suede Glove
.
Say Amen! Hallelujah! Amen
Certifiable number one smash
Hallelujah! Amen!
Certifiable undeniable solid platinum number one smash.

Besides being an interesting Sci-Fi tale, the lyrics to the song "2112" also refers to the music industry and the fact that Rush was asked to make more radio-friendly music, after the poor showing of "Caress of Steel."  Thank God they did just the opposite.

Edited by Scrambled_Eggs

Spirit of Radio

Begin the day
With a friendly voice
A companion, unobtrusive
Plays that song that’s so elusive
And the magic music makes your morning mood

Off on your way
Hit the open road
There is magic at your fingers
For the spirit ever lingers
Undemanding contact
In your happy solitude

Invisible airwaves
Crackle with life
Bright antennae bristle
With the energy
Emotional feedback
On a timeless wavelength
Bearing a gift beyond price ---
Almost free...

All this machinery
Making modern music
Can still be open-hearted
Not so coldly charted
It’s really just a question
Of your honesty

One likes to believe
In the freedom of music
But glittering prizes
And endless compromises
Shatter the illusion
Of integrity

For the words of the profits
Are written on the studio wall,
Concert hall ---
Echoes with the sounds...
Of salesmen.

 

My italics highlight the recent Sony payola exposure that few people seem to have even batted an eyelid about.

What can you do against the media moguls that all act illegally, and treat their customers as the criminals when you're addicted to their opium?

Edited by Certif1ed

Lyrics for King Of Hollywood by Eagles

Well he sits up there on his leatherette
And looks through pictures of the ones
that he hasn't had yet
When he thinks he wants a closer look
He gets out his little black telephone book
(He's calling)
(He's calling)
(He's calling)
(He's calling)

Come sit down here beside me honey
Let's have a little heart to heart
Now look at me and tell me darlin'
How badly do you want this part?
Are you willing to sacrifice
And are you willing to be real nice
All that talent and my good taste
I'd hate to see it go to waste

We gon' get you an apartment, honey
We gon' get you a car
Yeah, we gon' take care of you, darlin'
We gon' make you a movie star
For years I've seen 'em come and go
He says, "I've had 'em all, ya know"
I handled everything in my own way
I made 'em what they are today

After 'while, nothing was pretty
After 'while, everything got lost
Still, his jacuzzi runneth over
Still, he just couldn't get off
He's just another power junky
Just another silk-scarf monkey
You'd know it if you saw his stuff
The man just isn't big enough

How about a band thumbing its nose at the people who listen to them?  To whit:

The Worst Band in the World (10CC)

It's one thing to know it, but another to admit
We're the worst band in the world, but we don't give a...

If Garbo played guitar with Valentino on the drums
Then we'd be nothing more than a bunch of darma bums, so
Tune up...........tune up.......

Well we've never done a day's work in our life, and our records sell in zillions
It irrigates my heart with greed...to know that you adore me
Up yours...up mine...but up everybody's?  That takes time!
But we're working on it!..........working on it

We've never seen the van (leave it to the roadies)
Never met the roadies (leave 'em in the van)
All because of circumstances way beyond control
We became the darlings of this thing called rock and roll

Oh, here I am a record on a juke box - a little piece of plastic with a hole
Oh, play me....Buy me and you play me and my plastic turns to gold

Here we are together on your hi-fi - a little piece of plastic with a hole
Fade me....fade me....fade me....fade me....