Friesen Point’s “Songs I Miss From Bands Who’ve Disappeared” #4: “Standing Outside A Broken Telephone Booth With Money In My Hand”

Back when I was a kid, there was a six-month period during which people seemed to be in love with absurdly long titles.  Granted, the tradition of overly verbose titles can be traced back at least to the chapter titles in Jules Verne’s 1873 novel “Around the World in Eighty Days,” it seemed to take an upswing around 1995.

Though I never saw Hugh Grant’s magnum opus “The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill But Came Down a Mountain,” I absolutely loved the song “Standing Outside a Broken Telephone Booth With Money in My Hand” by Primitive Radio Gods.

I never for the life of me understood why I’ve never heard a single note from Primitive Radio Gods other than this song.  The drums are infectious, the “do do do do do do” part is soothing where it could have easily could have been annoying, and the drop of B.B. King is perfectly utilized.  Further, the singer’s voice perfectly straddles the line between pussy, James Blunt-esque crooning, and great, breathy vocals.

The lyrics in the song itself are vague enough to take on some deeper meaning, but not so abstract that it turns into a Mars Volta track.  “Will money pay for all the days I’ve lived awake, but half asleep?”  “We sit outside and argue all night long about a God we’ve never seen, but never fails to silence me.”  All I’m saying is that, though this isn’t songwriting on the level of a Bob Dylan or a Tom Waits, it’s way better than all the garbage floating around the radio today.  Seriously, that new Avril Lavigne song is one of the worst fucking things I’ve ever heard.  Not only are the lyrics awful, but it’s just amateurish and full of very awkward transitions.  Stupid Avril Lavigne.  She should have quit while she was ahead.

I hope Primitive Radio Gods are doing well today, but I fear for the worst.  I fear that B.B. King will have released 32 albums, and be considered one of the greatest blues artists of all time, but will only find mainstream success when he makes an album with that asshole who sang “Tears in Heaven” and two versions of “Layla.”  I fear that the lead singer has died only to be reincarnated in the body of the guy who writes the songs for Panic at The Disco, and is now trying to bring verbose titles back into the mainstream with such song titles as “There’s a Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey, You Just Haven’t Thought of It Yet,” and “The Only Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide Is Press Coverage.”  Oh, lord, I hope they’re doing better than that.

I miss you, Primitive Radio Gods.  Write another hit.