APOLOGIES TO MR. GOTTLIEB

by R. STEVIE MOORE

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $7.47 USD

     

1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
00:55
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
00:37
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.

credits

released March 12, 1974

-

reupped/remaster Oct 2018

APOLOGIES TO MR. GOTTLIEB:
recorded 2010 Linden Ave #2, Nashville TN.
Feb/Mar 1974
part of INDIVISUALS, Inc.
Also appears as CD bonus tracks on NEXT
www.rsteviemoore.com/tp/next.html

"Moore has not entirely forsaken his progressive rock tendencies, however, as evinced by the surprisingly appealing album-length rock opera "Apologies to Mr. Gottlieb" that takes up a full half of this two-disc set. A playfully obscure fable about the music industry that unfolds over the course of 17 songs, instrumentals, tape-loop freak-outs, and spoken word interludes, the work is as a whole much less pretentious than the likes of Tales From Topographic Oceans. In fact, its daffy surrealism and charmingly DIY quality links it to lo-fi concept albums that would come a good quarter century later like the Music Tapes' First Imaginary Symphony for Nomad or Masters of the Hemisphere's I Am Not a Freemdoom." ~~ Stewart Mason, AlMusicGod

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

APOLOGIES TO MR. GOTTLIEB

Hey Mister Gottlieb, please
Don't die with the Aborigines
I beg you to take me
Why won't you take me?
Hey Mister Gottlieb, please
You're a jukeboxking indeed
I'm sure he's successful
Your kind of party's alright
I'm naked in the night
Like you

Hey Mister Gottlieb, please
I'm sorry that I would sneeze like that
It's a fact, sir:
I love your act, sir
Hey Mister Gottlieb, please
Now you got me in a freeze
I'm sure I'm successful
I wanna be in your band
I'm certain that I can like you

Someone told me????
You need a drumman!
A healthy wealthy man
A rich bitch-of-a-man
A kind of art fan, too?
Hey Mister Gottlieb, please listen.

SNUFFY STOPS BY

Snuffy was born 17 years old
and went on to become practically immortal
His little brother did listen to his music
And yes, the times at Lums
When queers weren't faultless
And the imagination of man holds the world.
And so...
Snuffy retired to Porkchestershire
To write and record
This simple song:


Mr. Gottlieb bought the single
And sure as the world, he loved it!
Of course, and the B-side as well
Mr. G promptly took it home
and showed it to his oh-so-little son Mick
A somehow pajama party

BEEN FRIENDS TOO LONG
(FORGET IT)

the day has probably come to say
"i'm afraid your time is up"
normally it would be sad like this
but there's nothing else left in the cup
we gotta leave each other alone
it's true, can't you get it?

we been friends too long
either gotta fall in love all over again
or forget it

boys or girls, it don't matter to me
i can't stand the feeling
to see nothing *nothing* coming from you
can't you see that's not good dealing?
i'm gonna disappear from your grasp
i won't regret it

we been friends too long
either gotta fall in love all over again
or forget it

(Night Court Sequence):
hey mister gottlieb, please listen
i not listening to you
hey mister gottlieb please
hey mister gottlieb please

(Waterlogue):
YOU'RE FAILING!
(who says?)
THAT'S RIGHT!
(who is?)
MY FRIENDS.
(which ones?)
THEY'RE ALL ONE... THE SAME, IDENTICAL.
(well, what about you?)
WHO AM I? YOU??
(o.k. goodbye.)

oh lost my best friends
oh this is the end
either gotta fall in love all over again
or forget it

the time has probably come today
i'm casting you out of my thot
why should i be a friend myself
but having friends...i ain't got
i gotta think this out by myself
so i won't hafta betcha

we been friends too long
either gotta fall in love all over again
we been friends too long
either gotta fall in love all over again
or forgetcha.

WHAT WE DID

i was in venice again
on a week-to-week basis
considering you
you were on my T.V.
during commercial announcements
considering me

(what we did
what we did)

"yes, there was nothing sexual, although my tender memories of your questions, your many interesting questions, and just because we were fooding and blending our underwear with each countertop, the disciplinary sweat from your brow. you bet, i selected you first thing in the morning, originally a wasted dottle, but heh-heh-heh, still self-controlled. i was pleased."

i got a call
and it wasn't important for talking
considering you
you never mentioned
if you would've met me alone
and considering me
four cubic inches
was all that he counted
with each of his credible hands
hand me a wrench, mr. gottlieb says
and he changed them
from inches to feet

(what we did
what we did)

"yes, there i became a crabby applicant, just in time for who? why, fred––and he's the one with the confidence. he's the one who wants to play shows called gigs...in front of two or three hundred social saps with hidden gums and fingers that sniff instead. fred instead. goddamn hell, that stage is lit and open and dry as a quailbone, and the club has set up a dozen amplifiers with rolling stands. and shall i plug in any old electric guitar and motion with my hands for everyone to stop playing, for pete's sake, and give me a chance to reverse the polarity so the folks in the chairs up front will depart for clearer circumstance. fred just can't pick up the correct tempo, as his set of gleaming gigdrums (as he calls them) are cracking and laughing. yes, and during every one of nearly sixty rehearsels the questions were few and far between. so i ask: what have we done? i can't picture it. all those nine/eight time signatures... no no no, just put 9/8... they'll understand. proceeding... the drum courses have been pre-empted. i can't picture it."

LOOK MR. GOTTLIEB

He taught me how to love
He taught me how to pose
He taught me how to play
He taught me how to sing
He taught me how to drink
He taught me how to write
He taught me how to grow
He taught me how to love
He taught me how to see
He taught me how to hear
He taught me how to kiss
He taught me how to type
He taught me how to smoke
He taught me how to smile
He taught me how to love
He taught me how to speak
He taught me how to wait
He taught me how to splice
He taught me how to buy
He taught me how to read
He taught me how to love
He taught me how to jump
He taught me how to run
He taught me how to grab
He taught me how to print
He taught me how to lead
He taught me how to dub
He taught me how to come
He taught me how to sew
He taught me how to look.

published by Spunky Monkey Music (ASCAP)

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

R. STEVIE MOORE Nashville, Tennessee

#1 Veteran Progressive Popster, creativity unmatched! The Home Workshop Man. Content over style, always diverse never mediocre. Slays the competition. Thousands of choices. Sub-hipster. Get on it. Get over it^!

Albums listed in reverse chronology. (new archival and reissues notwithstanding)

NOTICE: Cassette tapes NOT AVAILABLE.
... more

contact / help

Contact R. STEVIE MOORE

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

If you like R. STEVIE MOORE, you may also like: