Lazy Flies

This song has a few themes: decay (flies, disheveled, vanishes, debris, dead horses, syphilis), hedonism (opiates, vibrates with pleasure, gigolos carouse), and pious detachment (gloves, puritans stare), to name some.

I think that Beck is contrasting the self-denying, reproachful attitude of the pious with the abandon of the hedonistic. On the one hand, there are the Puritans and the magistrate. The magistrate examines his life and the world around him and passes judgment - he knows the world is corrupt, and contemplates it as something he must endure. The Puritans strive to make their souls beacons while staring in disapproval at the pleasure-seekers around them.

On the other hand, there are the hedonists. They do what they want, recognizing their own corruption and gleefully accepting the consequences (syphilis, blindness, etc).

I think Beck's trying to get people to ask which life is better. Should we be slaves to morality or sin? Should we beat a dead horse by constantly being judgmental, or by repeating the same stale recreations? Should we stoop to acknowledge our sins, or should our confessions (or consequences, I quess) be written by the decay of our body to dust?

That's my interpretation.

This is really a great, underrated Beck song. It has always reminded me of Southeast Asia ("they're chewing dried meat in a house of disrepute"..."trawlers"): and actually I just looked up Myna birds and apparently they are native to Southeast Asia, although they've been introduced to other tropical locations around the world. Mangroves are also a tropical/coastal species of tree. More evidence of the SE Asia connection would be the references to opiates and prostitution (by no means unique to Asia though). Also leading me to this conclusion is Beck's sometimes explicit references to Asian locations (such as in the Midnite Vultures album).

I second what pianoguy wrote about the themes of decay (the quintessential Beck theme I'd say), pious detachment, and hedonism. I think also there is a fairly obvious theme of prostitution/the sex tourism industry (syphilis patients on brochure vacations, matrons and gigolos, house of disrepute, vanity of slaves), specifically in Southeast Asia. Also, "The skin of a robot vibrates with pleasure" (Hah! One of my all time favorite lines... what a great surreal image) I think is a meta-comment on the dehumanizing effects of prostitution; both for the prostitutes themselves and those utilizing said services. It's not clear which one the robot is and I think that is intentionally left vague.

I think also there is a connection to the larger theme of colonialism/capitalist exploitation of the developing world which shows up in other Beck songs (Tropicalia for example)-- evidence of this is the almost Victorian/Edwardian quality to the lyrics ("carouse in the parlor"... "the magistrate puts on his gloves"), as that era was essentially the apex of European colonialsm, and is continued today largely by the United States. Coupled with the constant theme of decay and moral/literal corruption, it amounts to a prescient condemnation of capitalism. Because it's now becoming very obvious that we've reached the limits of what the Earth can sustain-- the result is that despite the projected image of glorious expansion and technological advancement (another colonial-era-based worldview) the reality is and will be decay, "broken equipment," ruins and the industrial wasteland which Beck often alludes to.

I can't believe no-one has commented on this song yet. The lyrics are amazing, such vivid imagery. I'm pretty sure it's about Hell...I can't help but think of Hieryonomus Bosch when I hear it.

this song fucking r0XX0rs

great song. I agree with piano guy, very good interpretation.

one of my favorite lines of all time "a life of confessions written in the dust"

everytime i hear that one i think of cowboys. weird eh?

Good call on the Bosch parallel Chloe! This was supposed to be a tropicalia album, so i think alot of the lyrics might have to do with the colonization of Brazil. Later in the song when the lyrics start mentioning hand grenades and searchlights, we might be moving on to the military coup that Brazil had going on from the 60s to the 80s. So maybe the theme of the song is the culture clash between conquerers and indigenous people.

A bittersweet symphony truly

This has REALLY got to be the worst fucking song I've ever heard. I'm nearly 50 years old and I have NEVER heard anything so bad.

This song lacks lacks rhythm and rhyme. It has no deeper meaning than an feeble attempt at some form of surrealism, but even if that is it's it, If it is an attempt to....

.....I don't know....

.... create the disorienting, hallucinatory quality of a dream, It fails.

It is no more than a stream of conscious. A mindless collection of loosely associated thoughts. No form.

I really like it.

MOSCAS PEREZOSAS

Moscas perezosas se pasean por ahí, el magistrado se pone los guantes y mira las nubes tan rosas y despeinadas, tiene que haber unas huellas, algún credo del demonio inscripto en nuestras mentes...

Un juego detestable se desvanece en el aire. La vanidad de los esclavos, ¿quién quiere estar ahí para levantar la mierda, para enjaezar caballos muertos, para montar en el sol una vida de confesiones escritas en el polvo...?

Allá en los manglares las gráculas religiosas lloran. En las sombras de azufre los barcos pesqueros flotan a la deriva mascando carne resecada en una casa de mala reputación, el polvo de los opiáceos y los pacientes sifilosos en vacaciones de paquete turístico.

El miedo tiene un resplandor que te atrapa como un farol. Los puritanos se quedan mirando (sus almas son fluorescentes). La piel de un robot vibra de placer. Las matronas y los gigolos hablan como borrachos en el porche, sus ojos, como granadas, inválidos y ciegos...

Un juego detestable se desvanece en el aire. La vanidad de los esclavos, ¿quién quiere estar ahí para levantar la mierda, para enjaezar caballos muertos, para montar en el sol una vida de confesiones escritas en el polvo...?