If I had to select only one word to characterize our times, it would be “gutless.” Our reality is filled with gutless politicians who pander to interest groups, gutless business people who sacrifice people for profits and gutless musicians who allow themselves to be packaged to sell more music to their target markets. Gutlessness becomes the norm in a climate of fear, which pretty much describes the place where we live at this moment in history. In a climate of fear, people play it safe, and there is no surer death sentence to an artist than playing it safe. In times like these, conformity rules the waves and music becomes a commodity rather than a source of insight and inspiration.
In such periods, satire becomes a comforting blanket instead of a sharp knife. Satire in times of fear tells you, “Yeah, you’re not crazy, everyone else is,” and so comforted, you have a nice, relaxing laugh or two, turn over and go back to sleep. You never allow the underlying message of satire—“Hey, we’re talking about you!”—to raise your consciousness and do something about the absurd state of things.
The Bonzo Dog Band worked during a different period in cultural history when people were frantically in search of answers and more willing to reflect on society’s problems rather than defend normalcy with their dying breaths. Along with Monty Python, they not only pointed out the fundamental silliness that fills much of the day-to-day, but also punctured the protective balloons that we use to deny the truth that we are all part of the reality they were satirizing. During their peak years, they produced four masterpieces of musical satire, exposing our insane vanities and ridiculous neuroses with just the right amount of bite that encourages people to laugh at themselves instead of laughing at each other.
Of their four classic works, my personal favorite is Keynsham, a marvelous album characterized by a fake theme designed to puncture the pomposity of the concept albums in vogue at the time (only a few of which had any coherent concept at the core).
How can you not love an album that begins with a song like “You Done My Brain In,” where Neil Innes takes on the rock treatment of romantic rejection and brilliantly exposes the truly ugly feelings that are rarely expressed in classic pop rejection songs?
Looking like a muscleman you crawled out from the swamp,
Slimy wild, you honey child, give me your hump.
You done my brain in . . .
Don’t kiss me with your silver lip, don’t kiss me with your eye,
For God’s sake, give me a break, let me crawl away and die.
You done my brain in . . .
The title track continues this love for the unexpected and absurd with the glorious opening line borrowed from the silly 1960’s television commercials that played on the neuroses of the time, sung to a breezy soft jazz-like arrangement:
Lipstick gleam, hexaclorophene,
Cling cling the ring, clang clang she sang.
It’s tragic magic, there are no coincidences,
But sometimes the pattern is more obvious.
After the gently neurotic, “Quiet Talks and Summer Walks,” the brilliant Vivian Stanshall finally gets his turn with the song that made me fall in love with the Bonzos, “Tent.” Satirizing the overblown intellectual underpinnings of allegedly more complex rock music, Stanshall’s lead singer exposes himself as a person trying to project the illusion of depth when there is no there there:
I’m gonna get you in my tent, tent, tent, tent, tent
Where we can both experi-ment, ment, ment, ment
Yay, yay it’s so convenient . . . let’s take a taxi to my tent!
Oh, yay, my love is so inscrutable in a stoic sort of way,
But my baby is as beautiful as a tourniquet.
When he sings the final line, “We’ll dance the tango in my tent!” you can’t help but shake with laughter at a virtuoso performance.
“We Were Wrong” satirizes sappy young love songs; “Joke Shop Man” the proliferation of “isolated man” songs at the time; and “The Bride Stripped Bare (By The Bachelors)” the self-importance of a band on tour. All are superb, but Stanshall’s “Look at Me, I’m Wonderful” is a masterpiece of fun and exposure, sung by a Sinatra-like American crooner as he’s putting on his makeup before the show:
Look at me, I’m wonderful . . . shoo-bee doo-bee-wah
I’m not a bit like you or you . . . I’m a super show biz star
You all buy my records, so I’d like to say
Some little old . . . cliché . . .
Stanshall’s performance is aided by excellent recording techniques that give the listener the impression that you’re just off stage, with this buffoon in plain view.
“What Do You Do?” deals with the way we define ourselves in modern times: by our occupations. This is as empty as it gets, as the true answer to the question is not the inflated job description we give to friends and strangers, but something that is painfully obvious if we’re honest with ourselves:
What do you do?
I don’t know, but I know I do it every day.
“Mr. Slater’s Parrot” is a hoot, a “Makin’ Whoopee” sort of number that makes little sense but has you in stitches anyway. The cruel masculine ethic of the British system is exposed in “Sport (The Odd Boy),” where a gentle soul who has the temerity to read Mallarme rather than play football is the subject of derision. “Noises For the Leg” is a trip through a day-in-the-absurd-life and “Busted” pokes fun at rock stars who try to come off as revolutionaries but turn squeamish at being outed as common criminals.
If you love great humor, I suggest you explore The Bonzo Dog Band. Their other masterpieces (Gorilla, Doughnut in Granny’s Greenhouse (Urban Spaceman in the American release) and Tadpoles) are well worth the time and money. The Bonzos did real satire and did it brilliantly, taking advantage of a moment in history when the system had yet to react with a plan of co-opting all those who hold the system up to ridicule and neuter them by making them part of the problem.
[…] The Bonzo Dog Band – Keynsham […]
I had always assumed that “Look at Me, I’m Wonderful” was spoken/sung by “Legs” Larry Smith. Are you sure that it’s Viv?
Yes, indeed! From Viv’s obituary: “With the Bonzos he swiftly attained a cult status, as he sang with a jaunty and precise diction such songs as “Look at Me, I’m Wonderful”, “Canyons of Your Mind”, “Jollity Farm” and “Hunting Tigers Out in India”, although it was his musical partner Neil Innes who gained the Bonzo’s biggest success with “I’m the Urban Spaceman”, a Top Five hit in 1968.” https://www.independent.co.uk/news/people/obituary-vivian-stanshall-1610214.html
Legs Larry performed the song in guest appearances after Stanshall’s death in 1995. If you compare the vocals on “Wonderful” to “Canyons of Your Mind,” you’ll hear the similarity.
Have you noticed that it’s Mr. Apollo chiming in during ‘Sport’? MASCULINE SPORT!
There’s also the ‘I’ll repeat that’ from ‘Shirt’.
All the laughs from Monster Mash come back in Tent.
So on. Amazing record. Soul-crushing and hilarious at the same time.
Original long liner notes by Vivian Stanshall telling the “plot” such as it is of the concept behind the album. Fun. http://www.bonzodog.org/bonzos/keynsham.htm
Thanks to your mention in the “Doughnut” review, I only just discovered you’d covered this one!
For me, this is easily the Bonzos’ masterpiece. It’s one of just TWO rock/pop albums that sits on my mp3 player in it’s entirety (the other being the first Pink Floyd one) and regularly listened to as a whole which is unusual for me (I do have other complete albums on the player as well… all Miles Davis gems!)
It’s definitely the darkest album of the classic four (despite it’s moments I can live without the 5th one, the dreaded contractual obligation affair) and as a result perhaps more easier to relate to since for me, it’s the soundtrack and commentary of a world gone totally mad… and if the 21st Century isn’t mad, then I don’t know what is. The title track and “What Do You Do?” have fitted my surroundings so well most of the time, giving them a slightly creepy edge, reminding me that I’m not quite alone… these guys knew how it felt to be out of place and alienated with society and our places within it.
I WAS that “odd boy who doesn’t like sport!” That really does take me back to my childhood… childhood… childhood… again, it’s those odd little Vivian moments like him reading the excuse note and the sneering reply of “a nice cold shower” that elevates it into the realms of brilliance.
The band were falling apart by the time they recorded this and their anger really comes to the fore in “The Bride Stripped Bare” which again nails it perfectly – those Yorkshire accents they send up and the idiotic sayings “HOT DOGS ON SALE IN’T FOYER!” is a chilling but accurate depiction of the Hell of touring and playing in dodgy northern clubs where indeed, singers would get pushed aside mid song for some club goon to announce that hot dogs or hot pies were now on sale, causing half the audience to dash to buy them. Then we head backstage for “Look At Me I’m Wonderful” – a perfect punchline below the waist!
Because of their Englishness, the Bonzo’s pretty much died a death in America, not helped by those morons at “Rolling Stone” slagging them off for having to cancel a tour due to a family emergency. Stanshall said he once started a show at one of the Fillmore’s by conducting a mass round of keep fit, barking out instructions to everybody.
For all their absurdity, one reason I love the Bonzos was their sense and perception of REALITY and it’s dominant across this particular album. Maybe the album acts as some kind of statement about myself and my own experiences through life so far – relate to it deeply and I never tire of it.
[…] four exceptional works of satiric art produced by the Bonzos in the late 1960′s. I reviewed Keynsham some time ago and have been waiting for another opportunity to squeeze in another Bonzo review. […]
[…] The Bonzo Dog Band, Keynsham […]
What an excellent review! The Urban Spaceman was my introduction to the Bonzos when I was a kid, then I bought Gorilla. I have to say that few of my friends were as amused as I, but my daughter and her friends all loved the songs when they were pre-teenagers. Some of the Bonzos are still touring too, check them out on http://www.threebonzosandapiano.co.uk.
Thank you so much! My parents played their records when I was little and as a six-year old I fell in love with the man who sang, “I’m Bored” and tried to imitate his vocal inflections when I felt snitty. Just this past Sunday, I was listening to music with my iPod on shuffle and “My Pink Half of the Drainpipe” came up, and as I listened, I was just amazed at how so many of their songs are still fresh today. Thank you for the link, too! I’m going to spend some time over there right now.