Ahead Of Their Time

 

?: Donnie!
Bunk: Hey, put that down!
Art: What are you doin', man?
Don: SILENCE, you fools! Don't you believe in PROGRESS?
Bunk: Take that progress and stick it under a ROCK. We have to.
Don: We must overthrow the diatonic system.
(FZ: Yes.)
Art: Bullshit.
Don: We're coming to the beginning of a NEW ERA wherein the development of the inner self will be the most important factor.
Ian: Donnie, your music is full of shit, and besides that it ain't disciplined.
Don: Listen . . .
Bunk: Give me four-four.
Art: Togetherness.
Bunk: Yeah.
Ian: Some old melodies.
Don: Look, playing . . .
Art: Put on a tie!
Don: Playing that kind of music and eating meat . . . will never, you'll never be able to see my aura then.
Art: I've seen your aura a lot, and it really stinks.
Bunk: You've been drinking, Don
Ian: I can hear your aura and it's bad, man.
Don: Listen, there are many strange things that science doesn't know.
Art: Fuck it.
Ian: Play any more
Bunk: Discipline, you need discipline.
Don: No . . .
Bunk: Four-four.
Don: It's got to be new, it's got to progress, it's got to evolve. THERE MUST BE GROWTH!
Bunk: Ah, man. My goodness . . .
Don: You've got to eat macrobiotic food.
(FZ: We're doing a play.)
Don: And study astrology. Delve into the occult world.
Ian: Well you can delve all you want but we're formin' a new group . . . go, go and do you some yoga exercises.
Don: Look.
Ian: Take care of business there.
Don: Mark my words . . . If you continue playing this music something strange may happen.
Bunk: Don't threaten me . . .
(FZ: By the end of the first show . . . )
Don: By the end of the first show . . . No, the second show.

FZ: So, at this point in the development of our plot the three talented members of the Mothers of Invention have quit the group to form their own band with a lot of discipline.
(Art: Yeah.)
FZ: This is what we need, is a nice disciplined combo!

FZ: And so that they would be completely packaged and fit in with the rest of the disciplined combo, the former members of the Mothers of Invention receive their initiation into the robot musical world.

Don: This makes me nervous. I'm gonna go do some yoga.
Bunk: Yeah, you better.

FZ: Meanwhile, Dom DeWild, under pressure, prepares to unwind with some healthy yoga exercises.

FZ: This is Euclid Motorhead Sherwood.

Motorhead: What's the matter with him?
Ian: He's nervous 'cause he couldn't play with our new group.
Motorhead: Oh, that's nice, look at those suits.

FZ: Motorhead covets the uniforms of the other band. And also shows some interest in the bum of Underwood.

Ian: Ayyyy
Motorhead: Hey, ten years ago I knew a lot of guys that had suits like this. They're really nice. Hey can I play in your band and get a suit like that too?
Ian: No!
Motorhead: But I like the suits and I can play good. I can play . . . I can play anything.
Ensemble: BOO! BOO! BOO!

FZ: Motorhead is lying. He can't play good, he can't play anything. He's trying to con his way into the other band. He knows they don't want him.

Bunk: I heard you play before.
Motorhead: But I got practicing and play good.
Ian: No discipline.

FZ: He's lying. He hasn't been practicing, he doesn't do shit.

Bunk: Last week he couldn't even count to four.
Art: Come on, beat it, man.
Motorhead: You can't do that to me, I'll fix you.
Art: Go ahead.
Motorhead: I'll get into your band. I'll get into your band.
Bunk: Okay Motorhead, just get out of the way.
Motorhead: You can't stop me, I'll get in there somehow.
Ian: Take a walk, you fruit.
Motorhead: There's no way you can stop me. I'll get ya!

FZ: Motorhead explains to the members of the Robot Combo that nothing can stop him. He will join their group whether they like it or not.

 

FZ: At this very moment Jimmy Carl Black, the Indian of the group, is approaching the stage. Jimmy Carl, who likes to drink and also likes to boogie all night long and who is also horny, approaches Underwood in his transformed state at the piano and asks him this all-important question:

JCB: Hey I thought we were gonna play a Rock & Roll concert. What is this?
Ian: Jimmy Carl Black, Indian of the group: four-fours.
JCB: How are you gonna get laid if you don't play rock & roll and drink beer? You get laid after the concert if you play rock & roll, this kind of crap you're not gonna, you're not gonna get laid anyway with that uniform on. I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna quit I'm gonna go out and hustle me some chick, the hell with you.
Ian: Jimmy, you need some discipline.
JCB: I'm leaving the group.
Ensemble: Boo! Boo!

FZ: Jimmy Carl, I must inform you, I must inform you, Jimmy Carl, for your own good, that here in London you're not gonna get any pussy unless you look like a popstar. Fix him up! . . . Mod Jacket . . .
(JCB: Oh Jeezus . . . )
FZ: Frilly Mod Neckpiece, Jimi Hendrix wig, and a Feather Boa.

JCB: WAAAAAAAAAAHHH!

FZ: Jimmy Carl Black enters the audience to hustle some young ladies. Go on Jim, see if you can get any action, and if you get lucky fix us up too. And if you're really lucky, get something for the robots . . . Mmmm, their little mechanical things are going up and down, up and down . . .

FZ: Then, from out of the corner from the stage, comes Roy Ralph Estrada, perturbed at the present situation within the Mothers.

Roy: Domino, Domino, Domino Biz-bo-OH,
Domino Biz-bo-OH, Amen, Domino Biz-bo, Hallelujah, eh . . .
FZ: Et cum spiritu tuo . . .
Roy: Ian, I don't think I qualify for the Mothers
(FZ: They're making up their lines as they go along, isn't it thrilling?)
Ian: Why, Roy?
Roy: Because I don't think I'm qualified. I think, I think I'm holding the group back because I'm a MEXICAN. And also because I don't play bass good.
Ian: I don't care how you can play bass but we have NO MEXICANS in this group.
Roy: And I wanna join your group.
Ian: No Mexicans!
Roy: I can sing opera, I have already quit, I cut my hair, I got all my shit together here. I can do it.
Ian: I don't care how you look you gotta be able to cut the part.
Roy: I can sing. Please. Please, Ian, give me a CHANCE.
Ian: I don't believe you can sing.
Roy: Ah, PLEASE! Ah, Ian, please, hear my PLEA! PLEASE, IAN! PLE-E-E-EASE! I can do it, give me a CHANCE! PLEASE! Please, IAN!
(FZ: Try me!)
Roy: BWAH-AH-AH-AH! Please!
Ian: Okay Mexican
Roy: Please?
Ian: Okay Mexican
Roy: Okay.
Ian: Sing this note:

Roy (with JCB):
You think everything gonna be all right.

Ian: Okay. You passed the first part of your audition. Now you gotta sing . . .
Roy: Mi, mi, mi, mi . . .

Poo-lah
Poo-la-ah poo-lah
Poo-da poo-lah poo-lah poo-oo-lah
Wee-ooo-wee-ooo-eee-eee-ooo-ooo
Ah-ah-ah ah-aaah-ah-aaah
Aa-aa-ah aa-ah
Wee-ooo-wee-ooo
Aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aah

Ensemble: BOO! BOO!

FZ: The rejected Mexican pope leaves the stage.

Ensemble:
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE . . .

FZ: Motorhead is attempting to join the band . . . The band . . . Undaunted, the band plays on.

FZ: Meanwhile, the snack enters the mind of Dom DeWild.

Ensemble:
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, ONE

FZ: It's the macro-biotic food.

Don: HA HA HA HA HA!

Ensemble: THREE! FOUR! . . . TWO! TWO!

FZ: While the well-disciplined Ian Underwood plays his piano solo, Dom DeWild, transformed, begins to sneak up on him.

Ensemble: BOO . . . BOO . . . BOO . . .

Sell us a president, agency man
Smiling Big Brother, stern father perhaps
Sell us a president, agency man
A gay smiling nothing we know never craps

Let's try California,
(Pay us first before we do it!)
We'll get a smiling nazi
And march him right on through it

Rent a baby, kiss a baby
Ladies in for tea
And here's a bunch of speeches
We'll toss them in for free

Sell us a president, agency man
Smiling Big Brother, stern father perhaps
Sell us a president, agency man
A gay smiling nothing we know never craps

We'll sell him in the movies
On the tube throughout the year
We'll sell him by the buckets
To the Okies drinking beer

We'll teach him how to walk and talk
We'll putty up his chin
We'll print his picture everywhere
Of course the SCHMUCK will win

From the heart of old Death Valley
To the ruling of our land
A simple trick, you simple pigs
Just the way we planned

 

Don: Progress!

Help, I'm a rock
Help, I'm a rock
Help, I'm a rock
Help, I'm a rock

All right, sure it's a drag being a rock
I wish I was anything but a rock
Heck, I would even like to be a policeman

You know it's a drag being a policeman
I think I would rather be the mayor

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FZ: I've been informed that when the guy comes out that beats the gong we have to stop playing, because the subways around here shut down early. We'd like to thank you very much for coming to our concert and say goodnight. Nighty night, thank you.
Ian: Thank you!