Here is Axel's infamous egg song. It is delicious. Here he is, the man himself.
ok ok ok. guess who is back, you neverending parasitic lamprey of just all that is just and good? plus unexpectedly touch a damn dick. this is HUDSON P. HUDSON HUDSON of HUDSON P. HUDSON HUDSON fame and yet again i have been asked by the main man dan to provide some writings for this dang old blog of his, again explaining why instead of actually doing something worthwhile in my life like help the poor or exercise i write songs about eggs.
anyway well i had the idea bouncing around in my brain for a while because a) i am generally pretty terrible at finishing songs on a schedule and b) i absolutely love to eat eggs, oh me oh my,
so it was a struggle.
until i was given an assignment at UNIVERSITY (that's right, HUDSON P. HUDSON HUDSON is an educated man. don't let this unpuncuated, uncapatilised style of writing and crummy spelling put you off. this is me doing my impression of john kennedy toole except i ain't in new orleans and more cussing you fucking pathetic SOUL) to write a song. seeing as the lecturer stone cold forgot to set any parameters, except that it must be over 3 minutes long, i just went to TOWN, using a chord progression i wrote the previous week, moving it up a tone and free-associating some damn words.
actually the last bit of that paragraph was a lie, consulting my notes indicates the lyrics went through 3-4 revisions, believe it or not, before i striked the perfect balance between genius and stupidty. instead of becoming a basic song about eggs as i intended, it mutated into a dark aria of sorts, if you will grant me such concessions to describe my goddamned work. it stems from the complicated relationship between my father and myself, with me imagining as a child that we would talk about death, only for him to realise that yes, i ate all his eggs and that no, no i didn't fry those eggs. so he decided to leave the house.
that, or i just decided in a split second to have the line 'fry the little fuckers' in a song and needed some words to build around that key line. you can use either story, i won't mind.
this track was recorded by radio-played producer and upcoming minor perth personality rhys catlin, who did a good job capturing the multi-faceted nuances of my performances. oh yeah i did play every instrument on this dang song, it's my goddamned voice, MY GODDAMNED DRUMS AND SHIT. that's why the drums are so good. although rhys and i have a fundamentally different approach to recording (he likes to work on getting the absolutely perfect take and sound, which is commendable yet not for me. i approach it as if the first take is played all the way through with minimal timing errors or general mistakes, it's going to be the best one, a combination of spontaneity and extreme laziness), i thank him for being very generous with his time. and his gear.
anyway so i have rambled on at length about this, probably taking the fun out of the song for you, the listener and now you probably thinking (this guy a total jerk, he is the worst song played on the ugliest guitar).
basically the gist of this is i am a friend of daniel's, he wanted to posted my song about eggs, i wrote a blurb for him.
EAT A BAG OF DICKS YOU COMPLETE NONCES
HUDSON P. HUDSON HUDSON OUT
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