Surfer Girl Acrostic
On the penultimate Pixies album, 1990’s Bossanova, there’s a beautiful dreamy surf song named ”Ana”. Its lyrics are simple and appropriate.
AnaNow, why is this surfer girl named Ana? Well, basically, because Frank Black dropped out of college to become a musical genius before he'd learned the difference between an anagram and an acrostic.
By Frank Black Francis
She's my fave
Undressing in the sun
Return to sea - bye
Forgetting everyone
Eleven high
Ride a wave
Look at the first letters of the lyrics' six lines. Yes, Ana is a s.u.r.f.e.r. But this is no Ana-gram, as Black believed when he named her. "Grow a penis" is an anagram of "Spiro Agnew". Instead, Black's lyrics are an acrostic.
Here's another one, by Michael Collins, culled from Poetry Free For All.
Believe it or not,Still, I can pick as many nits as I want in Frank Black's lyrics. I won't be able to write a song like "Ana" anyway.
acid can really
damage your brain.
Days after my first tab,
rainclouds started following me,
usually this wouldn't bother me but,
goddamn, my head got really wet.
Strange huh?
[More blog entries about poetry, music, Pixies; poesi, musik, Pixies.]
posted by Martin at 22:24
3 Comments:
And the award for most persistent rock music acrostic goes to ...
... Bathory! Behold the lyrics to "Golden Walls of Heaven" (an old favourite of Martin's, I believe) off the seminal album Blood Fire Death :
Silent watching gaze
Across the blackened plains
Two eyes like burning embers
Await the moment for the
North star to blaze
Sythanagon winged
Angel rides death's wind
To cloudless sky
And sound a summon call of war
Now burns does the skyline
Soundless wings lacerate the night
Angels of death emerge accross the sky
Thorned heads spiky limbs climb the air up high
Attack on the pearly gates
Now wait for the sign...
Seen now is His star
Ablaze now risen in
The sign of the one with
A number not a name
Now given is the sign
The Golden walls of heaven
Sound is given now of charge
A voice of war does cry
The cry does sound the signal
And the walls are stormed
Now fly
Swords are drawn in soundless flight
Above the walls of gold
The winged angels of death descend
A thousand from above
Now heaven is in its last throes of death
Sacred shrine of life and death
Apharamons gold key
The raping of holy interior
And all concealed
Now masturbated upon is throne of gold
Scattered battered wings
Along the palaces and streets
Trophy of the victory
Attached to spear of the Beast
Now spitted at is the scalp of God
True! True! Yodaspeak! *headbangs*
... *grin* ...
... it's the subtext thing ....
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