best lyricists
 

discounting factors like delivery and voice, who do you rate the words of as standing up decent like on their own without the music

for me id say the fall are the best example i can think of -
you can actually enjoy reading it without listening to it.

share what you rate as great poetry from singers -

the fall - room to live
Some people want stars in eyes
Some people want eyes in stars
They've been like that for years
They've been like that for years
I suspect they're just if if if
I just want room to live

There's a new club in town
Plenty of space to posy around
It's a copy of the Peppermint Lounge
(I'll stick around the center always
Even if it is run down.)
Some people wanna be joining the club
Thinks to be on the clientele is big
I just want room to live


Foreigners and Experts go in
And through my place
Turn my home into a museum
Like the murder squad
They scan the room
For the well of inspiration
They don't tolerate ordinary folk
and folk look at me strange
But I'll give them this at least:
They pay for what they eat
Visitors and peripherers never give
I just want room to live


Some people think happy is way to live
Some men want to cram up to women
I've been down that street before
It just makes meat out of the soul
There's a D.H.S.S.S. Volvo estate
Right outside my door
With a Moody Blues cassette on the dashboard
There's no hate to the point I give
I just want room to live


Violence is just waiting for its due


Some people want money around
You can tell, they're the ones that never buy a round
And some men want reporters with no wig
And some people cannot hold their drink
They've got to tell you what they think
And some men want reporters with no wig
I just want room to live

more fall - this to me is a brilliant statement on mentall illness -

By order of the assessor
There's no cure so find a case for it
There's no cure so find a cause against it
He made a mistake three times at least
Let's face it, you don't make the same mistake twice

No I dont know just why.
No I dont know just why.
Which way to turn,
Ive got this ticket to use.

Through childlike ways rebellion and crime,
To reach this point and retreat back again.
The broken hearts,
All the wheels that have turned,
The memories scarred and the vision is blurred.

No I dont know just why,
Dont know which way to turn,
The best possible use.

Just passing through, till we reach the next stage.
But just to where, well its all been arranged.
Just passing through but the break must be made.
Should we move on or stay safely away?

Through childlike ways rebellion and crime,
To reach this point and retreat back again.
The broken hearts,
All the wheels that have turned,
The memories scarred and the vision is blurred.

Just passing through, till we reach the next stage.
But just to where, well its all been arranged.
Just passing through but the break must be made.
Should we move on or stay safely away?

Sorry, but Conor Oberst (Bright Eyes) is hands down the best lyric writer I've ever heard. Say what you want about the guy, but he's motherfucking brilliant.

I raise my glass to symmetry
To the second hand and its accuracy
To the actual size of everything
The desert is the sand
You can't hold it in your hand
It won't bow to your demands
There's no difference you can make
There's no difference you can make
And if it seems like an accident
A collage of senselessness
You weren't looking hard enough
I wasn't looking hard enough at it

An argument for consciousness
The instinct of the blind insect
Who makes love to the flower bed
And dies in the first freeze
Oh I want to learn such simple things
No politics, no history
Till what I want and what I need
Can finally be the same

The arc of time, the stench of sex
The innocence you can't protect
Each quarter note, each marble step
Walk up and down that lonely treble clef
Each wanting the next one
Each wanting the next one to arrive

An argument for consciousness
The instinct of the blind insect
Who never thinks
Not to accept its fate, that's faith
There is happiness in death
You get to the next one
You get to the next one down the line

The levity of longing that
Distills each dream inside my head
By morning watered down forget
On silver stars I wish and wish and wish
From one to the next one
From one to the next right down the line

Beetles and eggs and blues and pour a little everything else
You steam a lens stable eyes and glass
Not get pissed off through my bird lips as good news

Still we can find our love down from behind
Down far behind this fabulous, my turn rules

Beetles and eggs and blues and bells and eggs and then blued
Beetles and eggs and blues and pour a little everything else
You steam a lens stable eyes and glass
Not get pissed off through my bird lips as good news

You'll hang the hearts black and dull as the night
We hanged your pass and start being as you in ecstasty
Still being cried and laughed at before
Should I be sewn in hugged I can by not saying
Still being cried and laughed at from light to blue

And should I be hugged and tugged down through this tiger's masque
And should I be sung and unbroken by not saying
You mind not saying

He'll hang that heart's black and dull as the night
Still being cried and laughed at from behind me, from gains
We hanged your pass and star being as you in ecstasy
Still being cried and laughed at from behind me, from gains
Should I be sung and unbroken by not saying
Still being cried and laughed at from behind me, from gains
Hugged and tugged down through this tiger's masque for key

I wanna find me a woman who'll hold my big toe till I have to go
I wanna find a blue swirl plastic ocarina
About five miles long
And play with them sweet potatoes all night long
'cause them yams have all them eyes that yawn
'yearn down yonder below the ground
'n their golden hair is ah dirty brown
I wanna find me a woman that'll hold my big toe till I go
I wanna hold me a woman that'll find my big toe
Till I have to go
'n sow my last sweet potato.

like that about the argument for conciousness

I do like MES though, for the fact that he knows that there are no rules as to what you can write about, or how you can construct your point.

I'll tell you who I don't think is a good lyricist: Beck. He just makes random shit up. Seriously, what the fuck is he ever talking about? The one time he made sense, on Sea Change, it was sophmore poetry. Still love the guy, though.

beck is a twat but i'll let it go because he's responsible for the song title "MTV makes me wanna smoke crack"

mtv makes me want to smoke beck, he looks like he could break apart like tobbaco

Angry Samoans:

They saved Hitler's cock, They hid it under a rock.
I discovered it, last night. I couldn't even, believe my eyes.
If Hitler's cock could start to talk, it would say: To kill today.
If Hitler's cock could choose it's mate, it would ask, for Sharon Tate!
They saved Hitler's cock. They stuffed it in Mengele's sock.
They saved Hitler's cock, and now it wants to talk.
Now it's starting to get hard, I found it in my backyard.
Every night it kills a dog, and now it wants, some night and fog
Hitler's cock is on the move, and now I'm scared of what it's gonna do!

Also, Whitehouse.
"What do you want to be when you grow up? Certainly not raped."

i love how pointed Jenny Hoysten's lyrics are

Staring at an empty line
Knowing it's a paper waste
Gideon can't save me now in my hotel room
Mary seems a put on next to Virginia
Archetype versus a modern fantasy
Mary has nothing on Virginia
She walks past downtown on a cloud
I shook and I moved and I got all around
Took (the) staircase up and the lift back down
Forgotten and allowed to become
Another hotel suicide
Staring at an empty line
This note is a paper waste


They've got a law in the desert
They've got a law to protect their children
They've got a law to help each other
Where everybody has a gun
Everybody has knife
I can do the diseased soft shell
I can do the dizzy soft shoe

I saw it written and I saw it say
Pink moon is on its way
And none of you stand so tall
Pink moon gonna get you all
Its a pink moon
Its a pink, pink, pink, pink, pink moon

Andrew Bird is fantastic

When I was just a little boy
I threw away all of my action toys
While a I became obsessed with Operation

With hearts and minds and certain glands
You gotta learn to keep a steady hand
And thus began my morbid fascination

Tore the spines from out of all of these self-help books
Made myself a gun that not only shoots but looks
So real
It shoots through steel
With rays of dark matter

Do you wonder where the self resides
Is it in your head or between your sides
And who will be the one who will decide
Its true location
And does the thought of bile that’s red and black
The thought of tongues that taste you back
Fill you with a nauseouseous sort of elation

A noose is loosed around our necks made of DNA
And every day it’s growing tighter no matter what they do or say
And you can shoot right through it with rays of dark matter
Just before they kick out the ladder
With rays of dark matter
Like something catching fire

Do you wonder where the self resides
Is it in your head or between your sides
And who will be the one who will decide
Its true location

I can't make up my mind about him musically. I got a CD and thought it was only okay, but I know a bunch of pretentious music student assholes that are obsessed with him, so I think I want to hate him just for the heck of it.

Otherwise, he's a very good lyricist.

"Blue Angels Air Show" is my favourite;

Claire's turning blonde for the summer I guess
the sunlight just soaks into her hair
and she sits next to me on the motorboat
and shyly replies as to which boy she likes at her school.
so I am reminded of things I've forgotten.
the way doors can open and people just walk in.
it's not unexpected, no it's just how you planned it.
I'm beginning to think that it might never happen.
but now it is happening.
there's a show we can see at the base outside of town
where the planes they turn circles in the air.
I watch you stand next to me with your hand over your mouth
and join the crowds heavy gasp.
one for each time they pass overhead.
so we've been selected in this beautiful lottery.
we struggled so long but it ended so easy.
it's starting to surface, all golden and godlike
this feeling we had every day and every night.
it bursts in an energy. a door it is opening.




Also, you gotta love Tom Waits! A grand example is '9th and Hennepin';

Well it's Ninth and Hennepin
All the doughnuts have names that sound like prostitutes
And the moon's teeth marks are on the sky
Like a tarp thrown all over this
And the broken umbrellas like dead birds
And the steam comes out of the grill
Like the whole goddamn town's ready to blow...
And the bricks are all scarred with jailhouse tattoos
And everyone is behaving like dogs
And the horses are coming down Violin Road
And Dutch is dead on his feet
And all the rooms they smell like diesel
And you take on the dreams of the ones who have slept here
And I'm lost in the window, and I hide in the stairway
And I hang in the curtain, and I sleep in your hat...
And no one brings anything small into a bar around here
They all started out with bad directions
And the girl behind the counter has a tattooed tear
One for every year he's away, she said
Such a crumbling beauty, ah
There's nothing wrong with her that a hundred dollars won't fix
She has that razor sadness that only gets worse
With the clang and the thunder of the Southern Pacific going by
And the clock ticks out like a dripping faucet
til you're full of rag water and bitters and blue ruin
And you spill out over the side to anyone who will listen...
And I've seen it all, I've seen it all
Through the yellow windows of the evening train...

There's a girl, playing her piano, there's a little girl, playing her big piano
While her mother gives her an enema, while her mother
While her mother gives her an enema, while her mother
And then the daddy comes in and jacks off on the piano, and jacks off on the piano
And jacks off on the piano, and jacks off on the piano
Meanwhile, the local maternity ward, nurse comes in with a great big sledgehammer
She kills all the little babies, destroys the monitoring system
Says she got some time to stick around
She calls the doctor, said look what I've done
She calls the doctor, said look what I've done
She calls the doctor, said look what I've done
Doctor comes in, pops a boner and jacks off in her cap
And then the motel manager comes by
And takes a little shit in his hand, and then he takes a little shit in his hand
And then he takes a little shit in his hand
And the he puts it on like lipstick, lipstick, he puts it on like lipstick, lipstick

yeah, brilliant.

I kill children
I love to see them die
I kill children
And make their mamas cry
Crush 'em under my car
I wanna hear them scream
Feed 'em poison candy
To spoil their Halloween

So your're in the kids' ward
You're in there cos you're ill
How about some Pavulon
So I can see you chill

Time to hit the scool bus
I think I'll shoot the tires
Offer them a helping hand
Of open telephone wires

Ever wanted to die?
Of course you have
But I won't till I get my revenge
I don't wanna see people any more

Things I never ever saw before
Make me see them for the shit they are
Take as many as I can away with me
Anyone can be king for a day

So I kill children
I love to see them die
I kill children
And make their mamas cry
I bang their heads in doors
I kill children
Can hardly wait for yours


It never fails to make me smile.

When he came out to the lock-up
He said Im looking for something better
He made his shock announcement
And backed off, backed down, backed off
And then he got up off the floor
He said Im wealthy enough, not to do this no more
And he made it all known with his hands held up, palm
Out
And she said dont know if I should
Cause I worry too much about the tests on the blood
And at first it was a yes, and then a no, then a
yes.
A maggot sleeps on her desk
H wears a sleeping bag as his vest
And hes getting too too bothered
About the spots on his chest, chest, chest
Now shes (blank)...she laid it on
And a few days later shes gone
So its back to the womb
To get drowned, drowned, drowned, drowned warm

- Shaun William Ryder

Bullshit, that's terrible. I could write shit like that. In fact, I will;

Massive spoon, coming over the horizon
Glowin' in the moon, it's shinin'
Massive spoon, look out, gonna getcha
Massive fucking spoon
A bloody kitchen utensil utensil utensil utensil

no no. it sounds much better sung.

[Trigga]
Uh, base your eyes on the guy
no kind of worries if I die
so pussy glai try
dangerfield steppin my way
bodies get creamated on a Friday the do or die way
your death threater, sender, head spinner
rap beginner, light dimmer
3 knockout count winner
your gun reacher, bustin shot teacher
your funeral service church preacher
your black hearse coffin seeker
The body polluter, the gat shooter
the Brownsville wild Brooklyn trooper
the cock D mountain mover
the face basher, the mista brain smasher
the ax waxer, the drug money stasher...

[Smoothe]
The money stasher, gun blastin razor slasher
the human asthma breath taker
body dump waster
the glock cocker, block locker the rock chopper,
the shot popper, the jock cock glocker
The face splitter, human disgrace getter
the lady shitter, phone joneser
sneak over fuck your babysitter
The chronic smokin, gun totin hearse initiator
the crack supplier, the human drug generator
The honey gamer, the chicken tricker
the slick the long dick pussy sticker
the ready to bust that ass kicker
The track manoeuvre, the box barrier
the off of the dome rapper
the c-74 ox carrier....

[Trigga]
The gun seller, the chest sweller
the stick up smack bank teller
the money-back dweller
The stitch provider, the guess rider
the clip inserter, bullet shooter experter
the man next to murder...

[Smoothe]
The ho disser, the cunt man, the I dont want clan
the stunt hitter in 34 days in a month man
the front man, the Brooklyn representer
the beat down center, the two brothers
the hottest niggas out this fuckin winter

[Trigga]
The girl cheaters, the beef ass beaters
the street sweep keeper, the body to concrete meeter
the blood skeeter
The weed smoker, the liver choker
the spot stop broker, the rugged picture poser
the card scrambler,
royal flush same suit brouke the gambler
nasty amateur damaged ya,
snatch masta without the camera

[Smoothe]
Camera, beer guzzeler
the slug to your mug tuzzeler
the drug juggeler, the crazy thug hustler
the Lexus wanter
the chain-ring and bracelet flaunterer
The chamber smoker
the mansion havin sauna soaker
The corner stander, the style crammer
take over spot block commander
the glock on cock handeler
The razor spitter
the fast dough casper getter
the transmitter, North Carolina vagina hitter...

[Trigga]
The Ac kicker, internal heart dark sticker
the red scope body hitter
here to hang wit Digga and a buddha niggas
The trigga happy, father gun call it papi
my gun blow out waves patterns to keep your hair nappy
The to death thinker, M.O.P. bell ringer
how about some hardcore fan singer
the jam swinger...

[Smoothe]
The Nautica wearer, the Karl Kani man
the missed to get jaked, the fly man
notorious ready to die man
the knower killer, the expert slinger
the white girl gang banger
the virgin mary fucker
the jesus hanger
the vital kicker, the drug dealer and title stripper
the idol flipper
the cross breaker and bible ripper....

[Trigga]
The black history driver
the racial thinker
The 9 to 9 to 5 offer the jaw sinker
The hell fighter, the revelation writer
the Egyptian spirit inviter
the black body bag tire
The money stasher, the shit crapper
the a-k-a club basher
my brother gotta record racker

The battle spinner
The grand prize winner
The life and death beginner
the 95 interstate highway to heaven sender
The coke cooker, the hook up on your hooker hooker
the 35cents short send my 25's over looker
The rap burner, the Ike the Tina Turner
ass whippin learner, the hitman, the money earner
The tologist without the derma
me and my little brother
The cock me back, bust me off nigga
The undercover
glock to your head pursuer
The Big Daddy Kane, Little Daddy Shane over doer

i think hes brilliant, there are very few artists in the singer/songwriter category who manage to make music that isnt bland, and i think andrew birds one of them... certainly live, he was really good, like a one man band with all his violin loops and stuff...

well then it's not about the lyrics is it?

i just listened to that andrew bird. andrew bird, bright eyes, sufjan stevens, new cat power.... i want to know what is wrong with young people these days.

YEAH, Cantankerous, you Ace-whateverhisnameis-dressing-up-as motherfucker. Get out of THAT why doncha.

I've recently come to the conclusion that anybody below the age of thirty, really is an absolute waste of time.

oi! i'm 30 next year.

did someone say something? I hear a child's voice twittering in the background.

i can hear a groaning sound coming from that grey pile of clothes on the chair, what's going on?

Fetch me my barley sugars young Toilet and I'll tell you all about the time I managed to fight off an entire battalion of Germans with a single Scotch egg.

I find it hard to detach lyrics from their sung form, or the song they are a part of, so lyrics that mean things to me in the song do not come off the same when read on a page.

Agreed, that Happy monday's lyric I posted up just now sounds great when it's sung. But written down it just sounds naff as fuck.

captain beefheart-dachau blues (the best song written about the halocaust ever)

Dachau blues those poor jews
Dachau blues those poor jews
Down in Dachau blues, down in Dachau blues
Still cryin' 'bout the burnin' back in world war two's
One mad man six million lose
Down in Dachau blues down in Dachau blues
Dachau blues, Dachau blues those poor jews
The world can't forget that misery
'n the young ones now beggin' the old ones please
t' stop bein' madmen
'fore they have t' tell their children
'bout the burnin' back in World War Three's
War One was balls 'n powder 'n blood 'n snow
War Two rained death 'n showers 'n skeletons
Danced 'n screamin' 'n dyin' in the ovens
Cough 'n smoke 'n dyin' by the dozens
Down in Dachau blues
Down in Dachau blues
Three little children with doves on their shoulders
Their eyes rolled back in ecstasy cryin'
Please old man stop this misery
They're countin' out the devil
With two fingers on their hands
Beggin' the Lord don't let the third one land
On World War Three
On World War Three

i also really like flipper's lyrics, dont get enough credit for how great they were lyrically:

earthworm:

I am the earthworm
I live underground
I am the earthworm
I live in the dark
I am the earthworm
I live off decay
I am the earthworm
And no one sees me
Ever
The forces of dynasty are laughed at in the street
Our teachers hide behind their lies
But we´ve got the vision to see
You waste your time running from one book to the next
and when you stand in front of the mirror
I might get some rest
The chief looks back into the dark
and no one cares to follow
Lovers wait behind the phones
Praying there´s no mistakes
the city is made of concrete and stone
But we hide in the cracks
And the insects crawl through the dark
knowing nothing, nothing sees them

Matt Johnson , from The The , he has some good lyrics.

post-morbidity, pre-mortality, the dying proceeds and the living intercede
on the behalf of your best interests as we perceive them
and so you sign this document stating the following 'please let me go'
post-morbidity, pre-mortality, facing this inevitably
that i could never begin to understand
what is it you see staring down the barrel of limited options?
what goes through your mind as you make the decision to end all decisions?
never say everything will be okay.

- Off Minor




Don stepped outside
It feels good to be alone
He wished he was drunk
He thought about something he said
And how stupid it had sounded
He should forget about it
He decided to piss, but he couldn't
(A plane passes silently overhead)

The streetlights, and the buds on the trees, were still

It finally came, he took a deep breath
It made him feel strong, and determined
To go back inside

The light
Their backs
The conversations
The couples, romancing, so natural
His friends stare
With eyes like the heads of nails
The others
Glances
With amusement
With evasion
With contempt
So distant
With malice
For being a sty in their engagement
Like swimming underwater in the darkness
Like walking through an empty house
Speaking to an imaginary audience

And being watched from outside by
Someone without a key

He could not dance to anything
Don left
And drove
And howled
And laughed
At himself
He felt he knew what that was

Don woke up
And looked at the night before
He knew what he had to do
He was responsible
In the mirror
He saw his friend

- Slint

It's a style thing. If you don't like the music, it's hard to see. But I genuinely think that those people are some of the most talented music-writers around. It's very easy to hate, though. I actually saw one of Sufjan's guitarists in L.A. and had a short conversarion with her about Sonic Youth.