Every songwriter does it differently: some start with a tune and put words to it; some take a poem and wrap music around it; I often start with a catch-phrase or a couple of lines, which bounce around in my brain until I have to sit down and commit them to paper. "Blond in Bellevue" is one of the latter. The title phrase popped into my head one day and spawned the first verse almost whole within minutes; then it took a few more weeks for the rest of the verses to present themselves in coherent form. For the music, I adapted a standard rock rythm from around 1961.
Oh, what's it about, you ask? Bellevue, WA is a prosperous bedroom suburb of Seattle, fast becoming a major urban area in its own right. For all its big-city pretensions, though, it's still a suburb at heart, whose citizens are locally notorious for their excesses of spending and paucity of compassion for the less fortunate. Sure, I'm painting with a broad brush, but then satire is not exactly laser surgery, is it? Enjoy!
"Blond in Bellevue"
Copyright © 1992 Stanislove
(Published 2005 as part of "Live at WinterJug 2005"
by the Emerald City Jug Band; Suwimbo Music #535-04)
Listen to a song clip.
His hair is perfect and his teeth are, too. He's blond and blue-eyed aren't you?
Rappin' shades and droop-baggy pants; he's hip-hop happenin' he's phat, man...
Killing time with family is such a chore; he'd rather cruise for women but all he meets is girls.
The rightful heir to a better life; better'n what, he ain't sure.
Mom's a drag, Dad's a dweeb;
If only they would understand him.
School's full of jerks, the girls are so cruel!
He wants to know just exactly what to do.
He's blond in Bellevue and he don't even know about you.
A late-model SUV gliding across the floating bridge, escaping from Seattle and . . . ALL THAT CRIME!
Two perfect children strapped in designer car seats. "Nothing but the best for me and mine."
The driver is a cautiously stylish college graduate from somewhere in the safe, predictable Heartland.
Her husband has a startup in the high-tech corridor. Life is proceeding as planned.
The world outside was such a rude surprise,
Things her mother never told her:
Alternate lifestyles! Conflicting views!
Poor people wanting things they are not due!
She's blond in Bellevue and she don't wanna hear about you.
The high-tech Brahmin in his steel-and-glass tower, wielding great power with the stroke of a key.
His options are vested but he's never at ease, at least not in a way you can see.
His only topic is the bottom line, for wife and children he rarely has time.
Still, his parents think the world of him 'cause his world is so grim.
Dog-eat-dog, jungle law,
Do unto others in a twinkling.
Kiss up the board, crack the whip on his crew -
He always knows just exactly what to do.
He's blond in Bellevue and he does not need to see you.
The absolute master of a half-acre plot cannot decide if it's better or not
To vote with his conscience or go with the flow, and what does his neighbor know. . .?
His dear wife is fidgeting, comforting him; his daughter is obsessed with being oh-so-trim;
And with his sinister shades and those ridiculous pants his son is a stranger to him.
The job he's holding used to be secure
40 hours and a pension, but -
Brown-skinned people! Knocking on his door!
Willing to work for much less than he's used to!
He's bald in Bellevue and he don't give a damn about you.
He's blond in Bellevue and he does not need to see you
She's blonde in Bellevue and she don't wanna hear about you
He's blond in Bellevue and he don't even know about you!
|Buy it directly from me ($12) =>
If you prefer to pay by check or money order, mail your payment to:
% "Live at WinterJug 2005" CD
P.O. Box 31503
Seattle, WA 98103-1503
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