As many songwriters can attest, a few of the greatest musical inspiration comes merely from the rapid world they see round them. At some level then, issues are sure to get a bit meta.
This is particularly true when artists bump up towards a few of the harsh realities of the record-making enterprise: labels that refuse to see the imaginative and prescient, unfairly divided royalties or the basic woes of commercialism, to call a number of. Many individuals who enter the business study shortly that not all the pieces that glitters is gold.
It helps to place these frustrations into tune, as you will see in the Top 30 Songs About the Music Industry.
30. “Death on Two Legs,” Queen (from 1975’s A Night at the Opera)
“You suck my blood like a leech / You break the law and you breach / Screw my brain till it hurts,” Freddie Mercury declares in a scathing takedown of a former enterprise affiliate throughout the opening moments of 1975’s A Night at the Opera. Although the lyrics did not point out just lately departed Queen supervisor Norman Sheffield by identify, it is fairly clear he is the goal of the singer’s rage. “He was very aggrieved with our management at the time. … We had a major worldwide hit with (1974’s) ‘Killer Queen,’ and we were broke and we wanted to know why,” drummer Roger Taylor defined in a promotional video. According to the guide Queen: All the Songs, guitarist Brian May tried to speak his bandmate into firming down the “Death on Two Legs” lyrics, however Mercury insisted on setting the file straight. A lawsuit and an out-of-court settlement adopted. A yr earlier than his 2014 demise, Sheffield instructed his facet of the story in the appropriately titled biography Life on Two Legs: Set the Record Straight. (Matthew Wilkening)
29. “Rock and Roll Hell,” Kiss (from 1982’s Creatures of the Night)
With their profession on the line after the business failure of 1981’s Music From “The Elder,” and after Ace Frehley grew to become the second founding member to depart the band in lower than two years, Kiss regrouped with 1982’s Creatures of the Night. After delivering a scathing send-off to the former lead guitarist in “Saint and Sinner” (“Without you, it’s aces high!”), Gene Simmons illustrates the private toll paid by many struggling musicians in “Rock and Roll Hell”: “Been under fire 16 years, just waitin’ for his time to come / He fought the lies, fought the tears, can’t wait to hear that starting gun.” The tune was co-written by Simmons, Jim Vallance and a pre-breakthrough Bryan Adams. In a real-life reflection of the business injustices specified by the tune, Simmons admitted in the guide Kiss: Behind the Mask that his contributions to the tune weren’t consistent with the credit score he acquired: “Mostly it was an Adams and Vallance song. Their names should have been at the top ahead of mine.” (Wilkening)
28. “For the Roses,” Joni Mitchell (from 1972’s For the Roses)
By 1972 Joni Mitchell had virtually grow to be synonymous with confessional songwriting because of her groundbreaking 1971 album Blue. After almost a decade of working in the music business, Mitchell knew there was a worth to pay for that honesty, which she wrote about in “For the Roses”: “In some office sits a poet and he trembles as he sings. / And he asks some guy to circulate his soul around.” Mitchell may have been alluding to former boyfriend James Taylor, whose profession was taking off round this time. She was greater than accustomed to the scene. “Remember the days when you used to sit and make up your tunes for love,” she sings. “And now you’re seen on giant screens and at parties for the press / And for people who have slices of you from the company.” (Allison Rapp)
27. “No Surprize,” Aerosmith (from 1979’s Night in the Ruts)
“No Surprize” is the sort of perverse, whip-smart superhero origin story that solely Aerosmith may write. Steven Tyler traces the band’s humble beginnings to slogging it out in dive bars and at last putting gold at Max’s Kansas City, the place they caught the ear of Columbia Records president Clive Davis and commenced their regular climb to superstardom. The irony is that Aerosmith was already in the throes of an almost career-ending downward spiral by the time they launched “No Surprize” and its accompanying album, Night in the Ruts. But you’d by no means comprehend it from the sound of the tune’s firecracker riffs and freight-train rhythms. “The boys kept kicking ass / As usual time would tell,” Tyler snarls, and towards all odds, he makes good on his declare. (Bryan Rolli)
26. “Free Man in Paris,” Joni Mitchell (from 1974’s Court and Spark)
Joni Mitchell’s label boss David Geffen wasn’t initially thrilled to search out out she had written a tune about him. “He begged me to take it off,” the singer-songwriter instructed Blender in 2004. “I think he felt uncomfortable being shown in the light. The song tells the tale of a harried music industry executive finally able to find relief from everybody calling him up for favors and advice while on vacation in the city of light and daydreaming of the time when he could leave the rat race behind.” Although Mitchell fought to maintain the tune, she stated “it never sounded like a single” and was stunned when Asylum insisted on releasing it as the follow-up to the Top 10 “Help Me.” It turned out to be the proper transfer: “Free Man in Paris” grew to become considered one of Mitchell’s hottest songs. (Wilkening)
25. “Pop Singer,” John Mellencamp (from 1989’s Big Daddy)
For all of its glamor, the music business is a harsh world the place “playing the game” typically outweighs the high quality of an artist’s materials. Making the proper associates, scratching the proper backs and embracing the proper picture are all needed when a musician desires to make it massive. By 1989, John Mellencamp had paid his dues and loved large success. In “Pop Singer” he declared he was lastly completed with the music business’s methods. “This song is me realizing what kind of monster I’d created,” he defined to Rolling Stone. “I was questioning the validity and the importance of music. Things were changing. Everybody was having to kiss everybody’s ass. If you want to be on MTV, then come here and do this. All these backroom deals were getting made. I was like, ‘I don’t want any part of this.’” (Corey Irwin)
24. “The Stroke,” Billy Squier (from 1981’s Don’t Say No)
Billy Squier had toughed it out in the music business for more than a decade by the time he hit it big with “The Stroke,” so his sentiments about industry ego-stroking don’t come cheap. His songwriting chops don’t come easy either. The Massachusetts-born singer and guitarist strikes gold with his simple, inedible power-chord riffage and Robert Plant-style wail. The fact that so many people mistook “The Stroke” to be about masturbation only further emphasizes the shallowness and lack of critical thinking in the industry Squier rails against. (Rolli)
23. “Vanz Kant Danz,” John Fogerty (from 1985’s Centerfield)
John Fogerty doesn’t do much to hide the subject of “Vanz Kant Danz.” The song was even originally titled “Zanz Can’t Dance,” an obvious swipe at former Fantasy Records boss Saul Zaentz, who later sued Fogerty for plagiarizing his Creedence Clearwater Revival songs. Fogerty and Zaentz’s relationship was tense almost from the start; “Zanz Kant Dance,” which is about a street dancer whose trained pig picks pockets while his owner entertains, drove home the point. Zaentz threatened to sue Fogerty for defamation, so Fogerty changed the pig’s name to Vanz. But Fogerty’s bitter sentiment remained: “Vanz can’t dance, but he’ll steal your money / Watch him or he’ll rob you blind.” (Rapp)
22. “Mercury Poisoning,” Graham Parker (1979 single)
As Graham Parker’s relationship with Mercury Records fractured, his next move was to record “Mercury Poisoning” about the company’s lack of promotion. Arista, his new label in the States, thought it was “great fun,” in accordance with Parker, however England’s Phonogram refused to launch it. Parker was infuriated, noting that the firm’s reticence to get entangled in the feud was partly as a result of he introduced his intentions to depart that label, too. “I thought I could change the music industry, I thought I would change everything” he later remarked, including, “It turns out, I was right.” (Matt Wardlaw)
21. “This Song,” George Harrison (from 1976’s Thirty Three & 1/3)
The thing about the music business is that it’s just that: a business. Even the most famous songwriters have to abide by its rules. In February 1971, George Harrison was hit with a lawsuit over his 1970 No. 1 “My Sweet Lord” because it sounded like the Chiffons’ “He’s So Fine.” Harrison wondered how he had managed to miss the similarity – “He’s So Fine” was a huge hit in 1963 – as legal proceedings dragged out for years. “This Song” found Harrison voicing his frustrations over the complicated case, one that eventually set a legal precedent for music copyrights. It’s half-satirical, half-serious, as Harrison played up the joke in the song’s promotional video, which depicted him sitting in the witness box in court while the judge ponders his fate. (Rapp)
20. “On the Other Hand,” Sammy Hagar (from 1997’s Marching to Mars)
Sammy Hagar spent much of his first post-Van Halen solo album, 1997’s Marching to Mars, working through various stages of anger and grief over his acrimonious departure from the band. “On the Other Hand” finds him taking very specific aim at Ray Danniels, who took over as the band’s manager following the 1993 death of Ed Leffler. Hagar accuses Danniels of intentionally driving a wedge between the frontman and the Van Halen brothers to facilitate a reunion with the band’s former singer, David Lee Roth. “Was an evil man, cash on his thoughts,” Hagar seethes. “He don’t desire chump change, he need the massive form.(*30*)Workin’ for MCA,” Lynyrd Skynyrd (from 1974’s Second Helping)
Lynyrd Skynyrd signed their first record deal in 1972 with a fledgling label called Sounds of the South, which had a distribution deal with MCA. Weeks before their debut album was released a year later, the band played a showcase for MCA bigwigs. It was at this gig that they debuted a song about their emerging career. “Workin’ for MCA” chronicled the band’s signing story and rise out of the Southern music scene. Its chorus – “Want you to sign your contract / Want you to sign today / Gonna give you lots of money / Workin’ for MCA” – was tongue in cheek since the band had yet to make money on the deal. “Workin’ for MCA” was eventually released on Lynyrd Skynyrd’s second album, Second Helping. (Irwin)
18. “Baby, You’re a Rich Man,” The Beatles (from 1967’s Magical Mystery Tour)
By 1967, these guys were all absurdly rich men, long ago crowned music industry kings. But beyond what appears to be a self-referential wink, the commentary here isn’t particularly deep: On the chorus, John Lennon sings the title phrase over and over, adding, in a perfectly whimsical psych-era flourish, “You hold all of your cash in a giant, brown bag inside a zoo.” (Hey, it doesn’t seem like the safest or most efficient storage system, but you do you!) Still, this drugged-out Magical Mystery Tour tune, with its strong Indian influence, heavy bass line and carnivalesque swirl from electronic keyboard the clavioline, certainly feels profound — a trick the Beatles pulled off time and time again. (Ryan Reed)
17. “I Love My Label,” Nick Lowe (from 2008’s deluxe edition of 1978’s Jesus of Cool)
“I Love My Label” was co-written with Stiff Records co-founder Jake Riviera around the time of Nick Lowe’s debut album, 1978’s Jesus of Cool. When Riviera left Stiff, so did Lowe, who signed with the newly formed Radar Records. It’s not entirely clear which label Lowe is referring to here, but one thing is clear: He couldn’t be happier working with people who were invested in giving young songwriters like Lowe a shot. “I’m so pleased with them up right here / We’re one massive, pleased household.” Jesus of Cool, one of the first LPs released by Radar, was a prime example of when record deals go right. (Rapp)
16. “Only a Northern Song,” The Beatles (from 1969’s Yellow Submarine)
The sense of irony was probably lost on most when George Harrison sang, “It would not actually matter what chords I play … because it’s solely a northern tune.” After all, only the most careful of liner-note readers might notice that John Lennon and Paul McCartney’s songs were published by Northern Songs. The company was created by music publisher Dick James and Beatles manager Brian Epstein in 1963 and made them hired-gun composers until the deal expired five years later. Harrison, meanwhile, found himself limited to one song per side (at most) – and was given no ownership stake in Northern Songs. Finally fed up, he dashed off this nasty little tune during the sessions for Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. This being 1967, and also a period of dizzying musical creativity, the Beatles turned the results into a kaleidoscopic psych-rock symphony. (Nick DeRiso)
15. “This Note’s for You,” Neil Young (from 1988’s This Note’s for You)
Neil Young has never been shy when it comes to expressing opinions. In the title track to his 1988 album This Note’s for You, he aims at all the artists stumping for corporate brands during the era. He gets his point across in just over two minutes in a bluesy song that Michelob no doubt would have loved to use in a commercial. The accompanying video lampooned several ad campaigns of the time. Because so many of them were TV sponsors, MTV banned the clip but eventually relented, even awarding the clip Video of the Year at the VMAs the next year. (Wardlaw)
14. “The Entertainer,” Billy Joel (from 1974’s Streetlife Serenade)
As with all the best Billy Joel songs, “The Entertainer” marries the New Yorker’s acerbic wit with his uncanny knack for pop hooks. The result is a scathing, cynical takedown of a fickle, profit-driven industry — or maybe a love letter to the greatest job in the world. Either way, it’s a maddeningly catchy tune that eschews the Piano Man’s weapon of choice for relentless acoustic guitar strums and a careening synthesizer hook. “The Entertainer” also contains one of Joel’s most memorable, evergreen lyrics, about the hacking of his five-and-a-half-minute opus “The Piano Man”: “It was an attractive tune / But it ran too lengthy / If you are gonna have a success, you gotta make it match / So they reduce it down to three:05.” (Rolli)
13. “Turn the Page,” Bob Seger (from 1973’s Back in ’72)
“Turn the Page” soundtracks the never-ending grind of touring life and how it can tear away every layer of an artist’s soul. Bob Seger strips away any pretense of glamour in the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle with each passing verse. Metallica later covered the song and gave a particularly scary snarl to the second verse, which tackles the indignities that come with the more public moments of life on the road. “Turn the Page” is a cautionary tale that feels like you’ve spent a grueling day with the touring Seger, culminating in the final moments when he’s finally alone in his relatively quiet bunk. (Wardlaw)
12. “EMI,” Sex Pistols (from 1977’s Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols)
Sex Pistols weren’t exactly known for their coherence, beginning with the boneheaded decision to fire bass-playing principal songwriter Glen Matlock after making the first pass at “E.M.I.” This tightly focused takedown is one of the rare exceptions. Johnny Rotten gleefully rails against the label that signed Sex Pistols to great fanfare, only to feign horror and then cancel their deal when the inevitable antics followed: “I let you know it was all a body. They solely did it ‘cos of fame,” he howls as the others angrily chant “E.M.I.!” Train-wreck replacement Sid Vicious took over for Matlock but was so incompetent that guitarist Steve Jones had to handle almost all of the bass duties. (DeRiso)
11. “Life’s Been Good,” Joe Walsh (from 1978’s But Seriously, Folks…)
For a legendary hell-raiser, Joe Walsh sure knew how to write a laid-back rock ‘n’ roll anthem. “Life’s Been Good” displays all of the Eagles axman’s greatest gifts: crunchy riffs, wily slide guitar work, offbeat pop hooks and that nasally, roguish, I-know-something-you-don’t-know sneer. Walsh deftly and vividly outlines his myriad acts of debauchery with zingers like “I am going to events typically till 4 / It’s onerous to depart when you possibly can’t discover the door.” It’s a little sad, plenty uproarious, and you can’t help but root for Walsh when he declares, “It’s powerful to deal with this fortune and fame / Everybody’s so totally different, I have never modified.” (Rolli)
10. “We’re an American Band,” Grand Funk Railroad (from 1973’s We’re an American Band)
Grand Funk Railroad was at a crossroads in 1972. The band’s most recent album, Phoenix, had failed to meet commercial expectations. Meanwhile, the group was embroiled in a lawsuit with its former manager. “It was a very tumultuous time period,” drummer Don Brewer recalled to Songfacts. “I remember lots of discussions in the back of cars going, ‘What are we going to do next?’ Our manager kept saying, ‘Why don’t you just write songs about what you do: you’re out here on the road, you’re going to this hotel, you go to different places, there’s people, you come into town … .’” So that’s exactly what they did. “We’re an American Band” was ripped right from Grand Funk Railroad’s tour life. Its lyrics name-dropped cities, groupies and poker games, and gave an unapologetic look at life on the road. The song also became their first No. 1 single. (Irwin)
9. “Complete Control,” The Clash (from 1977’s The Clash)
In May 1977 the Clash’s record company released a song called “Remote Control” as a single without the band’s permission. Just months later the band responded with “Complete Control,” lashing out at CBS, industry suits and the state of punk music in the U.K. that summer. “They stated, ‘Release “Remote Control,”‘ however we did not need it on the label,” Joe Strummer sings over Mick Jones’ stabbing guitar. “They stated we would be artistically free after we signed that little bit of paper / They meant, ‘Let’s make a number of cash and fear about it later.’” The Clash got the last laugh: “Complete Control” was the bigger hit. (Michael Gallucci)
8. “Video Killed the Radio Star,” The Buggles, (from 1980’s The Age of Plastic)
“Video Killed the Radio Star” became the first music video on MTV, airing at 12:01 a.m. on Aug. 1, 1981, despite having been released two years earlier as the Buggles’ debut single. The song felt weirdly prescient then, as a new technological advance transformed the music industry. Turns out, it would be far from the last. “That was the entire essence of the tune,” co-writer Geoff Downes said in 2012. “It wasn’t particularly about video succeeding over radio. The tune was about how know-how was altering lives. In some ways, that was a really prophetic assertion, while you have a look at the manner that individuals obtain music now. Technology could be very a lot the medium now. The lyrics discuss machines writing music, and that’s really occurred, too.” (DeRiso)
7. “Into the Great Wide Open,” Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers (from 1991’s Into the Great Wide Open)
“Into the Great Wide Open” had such a defined, linear narrative that it seemed tailor-made for MTV. It didn’t disappoint. The song’s Julien Temple-directed video starred Johnny Depp, Faye Dunaway, Matt LeBlanc and a bustling cast of characters portrayed by Tom Petty. (The Heartbreakers made cameos, too.) Taking advantage of an Arizona set where Depp and Dunaway were on a hiatus from filming, Temple got so engrossed in a storyline following the unlikely rise and inevitable fall of an upstart musician named Eddie Rebel that the director ended up with 18 minutes of edited film. They eventually cut it down to seven, but Temple worried that was still overlong for network broadcast. “Don’t say something about it, simply ship it,” Petty later remembered saying. “They performed it in heavy rotation for months.” (DeRiso)
6. “The Load-Out,” Jackson Browne (from 1977’s Running on Empty)
Jackson Browne’s travelogue album focusing on life on the road draws to a close with a loving tribute to the roadies who assemble and then quickly disassemble the stages where he stands in the nightly spotlight. Browne had been working to construct “The Load-Out” when they ran out of material during an encore at the Merriweather Post Pavilion in Maryland. Drummer Russ Kunkel suggested they make another pass, and that first take became the definitive recording of the song when paired with a sweet-hearted version of “Stay.” There could scarcely have been a better way to close out Running on Empty – or any Jackson Browne concert. When an overeager fan shouted for “The Load-Out” early into one of his all-request shows, Browne memorably quipped: “I may play that, however then we would have to depart.” (DeRiso)
5. “Barracuda,” Heart (from 1977’s Little Queen)
Heart was experiencing plenty of industry frustrations back in 1977 — partly directed at their original label, Mushroom Records, which infamously released an unfinished version of the band’s second LP, Magazine. (Heart eventually recorded some tweaks for a rerelease.) The Wilson sisters, singer Ann and guitarist Nancy, were also facing outright sexism. Backstage after a show opening for the Kinks, a man asked Ann about her love life — implying an incestuous relationship between the Wilsons. Furious, the singer went back to her hotel and hammered out the lyrics to “Barracuda,” a raging rocker that compares such scheming, slippery jerks to bloodthirsty fish. “It was the first second, too, I feel I noticed what sort of enterprise we have been in,” Ann told Professor of Rock in 2019. (Reed)
4. “Radio, Radio,” Elvis Costello (from 1978’s This Year’s Model)
Elvis Costello didn’t even bother to hide his intentions from his bosses: “I wanna chew the hand that feeds me / I wanna chew that hand so badly / I need to make them want they’d by no means seen me.” He was inspired to write the song after the BBC attempted to ban the Sex Pistols’ “God Save the Queen.” The single (which found its way to the U.S. version of his second album, This Year’s Model), perhaps not so surprisingly, bombed, presumably because those radio execs Costello reprehend weren’t going to play a song that badmouths them. Costello ended up using the song for a greater protest: a Saturday Night Live appearance where he abruptly changed course and performed “Radio Radio” instead of an approved song, pissing off NBC execs. (Gallucci)
3. “Welcome to the Machine,” Pink Floyd (from 1975’s Wish You Were Here)
The vibe is downright science fiction. Over shimmering synthesizers and industrial, electronic tape effects, David Gilmour shouts lyrics from the perspective of a seemingly omniscient authority figure: “Where have you ever been? It’s all proper, we all know the place you’ve been … What did you dream? / It’s all proper, we instructed you what to dream.” Several tracks on Pink Floyd’s ninth LP deal with the industry, either directly (criticizing cigar-chomping bigwig executives in “Have a Cigar”) or indirectly. But no song — from any rock band at any time — handles this subject matter more creepily than “Welcome to the Machine,” which envisions artists as drone-like figures lured in by glamor and ultimately discarded. (Reed)
2. “So You Want to Be a Rock ‘n’ Roll Star,” The Byrds (from 1967’s Younger Than Yesterday)
Singing about the drudgeries of being globe-trotting pop stars was practically unheard of in early 1967 when the Byrds released “So You Want to Be a Rock ‘n’ Roll Star.” It starts innocently enough, as Roger McGuinn advises over a chiming guitar, “Just get an electrical guitar, then take a while and learn to play.” But it soon takes a more cynical tone: “Sell your soul to the firm who’re ready there to promote plastic ware.” McGuinn claimed he and bandmate Chris Hillman got the inspiration from a teen magazine, where “everybody … and his pet bullfrog [were] singing rock ‘n’ roll,” a possible swipe at the Monkees, who were on top of the world at the time. (Gallucci)
1. “Have a Cigar,” Pink Floyd (from 1975’s Wish You Were Here)
Is there a more damning indictment of the record industry than Pink Floyd’s classic “Have a Cigar”? After telling the band how much they just love their music and how big they’re gonna be, a clueless exec asks, “Oh, by the manner, which one’s Pink?” The song’s parent album, Wish You Were Here, is all about the toll the constant grind of touring and recording took on the band’s original leader, Syd Barrett. (The track right before it is called “Welcome to the Machine,” which gives you a pretty good idea of their scorn for their label bosses.) Folk singer Roy Harper (doing his best David Gilmour) sings lead, but “Have a Cigar” is a definitive song in the Pink Floyd catalog. (Gallucci)
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