For most of 2005, record release date listings anticipated a new AC/DC record on October 4. Sadly, there will not be a new AC/DC album tomorrow, putting the band's five-year cycle for albums, a cycle followed closely by all august rock dinosaurs after graduating from the three-year cycle mandated for arena touring acts, in jeopardy. A true shame, as 2005 has seen the vast majority of Cleveland Hall of Famers spit out critically acclaimed albums that have, in general, done nothing more than not blatantly embarass the artists and stay firmly in their self-drawn limits. Rolling Stone gave the Rolling Stones their rarely granted five-star rating for, essentially, not using overdubs. It was their best record since Some Girls. Paul McCartney released his best album since Band on the Run. Neil Young released his best since Harvest Moon. Echo & the Bunnymen released their best since Ocean Rain. The Fall released...something probably. Anyway, AC/DC were likewise primed to release "their best since Back in Black." Daily newspaper critics had their reviews written and were merely waiting fill in the blanks with song titles.
Fortunately, AC/DC have been holed up in a studio in downtown Chicago recording an album sure to be dubbed Best Since the Last Good One in penthouse suites in the gold flake-tipped Hard Rock Hotel overlooking the Chicago River. AC/DC fans are seeking to register Blueballs.org as a petition site dedicated to getting the long-awaited album on store shelves. Pitying their plight, I've been hanging out in the back alley of the Hard Rock, digging through hotel trash, sorting out the trademark gold penthouse Hefty bags. I've even been posing as cleaning staff, sneaking into the band's room for any glimpse of demo tapes or notebooks.
The band holds their cards close their chest, as they explained in their 1985 B-side "Hold Your Cards (Close to Your Chest)", but I've pieced together what I can tell to be their forthcoming studio album. These songs have been transcribed from doodles and poems off toilet paper, the back of Chinese take-out menus, hotel "Please Make Our Bed" doorknob hangers, pool bar coasters, a brochure for the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre at Navy Pier, and a highlighted snooker instruction manual. As you will see, the band is certainly in top form, and looking to show the Stones they're not the only geezers who can still be mega pleezers. (Ok, I stole that from a napkin found in Brian Johnson's pants.)
AC/DC: For Whom the Bell Ends
1. Cannonballs
2. Potsticker
3. Makin' the Bed
4. Pink Slip
5. Shootin' Snooker
6. Downloadin' (Ain't Got Nuthin' To Do With an iPod)
7. You Can't Spell Rock 'n' Roll Without C-O-Apostrophe-K
8. I'll Swell If the End's Well
9. For Whom the Bell Ends
Cannonballs
Divin' in the deep end
She was checkin' out the trunks
I made her belly flop
She could tell that I had spunk
Jumpin' in, adult swim
The girl, she made a big splash
Yeah, she made my dinghy sink
Grabbed a hold of her raft
The higher you climb (climb)
the stiffer the board (aboard)
The tighter you ball (balls)
the bigger the splash (splash)
[drumfill]
Cannonball!
Cannonballs!
Cannonballs! Cannonballs! Cannonballs!
She asked to see my jackknife
But I told her I only got
Cannonballs
Cannonbaaaaaaaallll!
Oo, I hit the bottom!
Potsticker
I'm in the mood
For eating out
So I'm headin' south
For Chinatown
Chowin' on some chow mein
The sticky sweet 'n' sour
Even if I stuff my face
I'll be hungry in an hour
Are you ready for my order?
Tell ya what I want
I'd like the beef Kung Pao (Pow!)
I'd like the pork Fu Young (Pork!)
I'd like the chicken Almond Ding (Ding!)
I'd like the...
Potsticker!
Potsticker!
Call me Long Duck Dong
Put my chopstick in your wonton
'Til you strike the gong
Potsticker!
Don't want no Crab Rangoon
Add some money to your tip
If you're comin' soon
She know (She know)
How the (How the)
Eggs roll (Eggs roll)
Makin' the Bed
My girl, she taught me manners
I gave Emily her post
So if I spend the night
I'll be good to you, the host
Yeah, you cook my bacon
Yeah, you make my fat crack
You popped bread into your toaster
You really scrambled my eggs
When the mornin' come 'round
I'll be makin' your bed
(Makin' the bed)
Yeah, and when the sun sets
We'll have to make it again
Spread your sheets!
Fluff your pillows!
I'm a man
but I know
how to tuck your sham
Pink Slip
Women in the workplace
Yeah
Work it in their women's place
Don't mind if a lady is a boss
I like to see a girl work her way on the top
Just as long as she gives me
The pink slip
The pink slip
The pink slip
Ooo, the pink slip
Girl you need to clean out your desk
Bang! You're fired
Shootin' Snooker
Chalk up my cue stick
Let's go through the rules
The correct value for the balls are as follows
1 is red
(Oo, you know it had to hurt)
2 is yellow
(Now that's a normal fellow)
3 is green
(Never seen that before)
4 is brown
(If that's the way you swing)
5 is blue
(God I need to play soon)
6 is pink
(Yeah, I know what you think)
7 is black
(I hear it's comin' back)
Readin' through your rulebook
Explaing all the Spots
Girl, you've got your Center Spot
You'll find that between the top and bottom cushions
And you've got your Pink Spot
Located midway between the Centre Spot and the face of the top cushion
And in the middle of the Baulk Line
Lies the Brown Spot
I don't make up the rules
But you gotta play by 'em
They go:
A cue shall be not less than 3ft (914mm) in length and shall show no substantial departure from the traditional and generally accepted shape and form.
Uh!
A stroke is indirect when the cue-ball strikes one or more cushions before striking an object ball!
Yeah!
The cue-ball is in-hand
When it has entered a pocket
The cue-ball cannot be snookered by a cushion.
Ooh, I beg to differ, mama.
Downloadin' (Ain't Got Nuthin' To Do With an iPod)
Check out her bauds
The girls got big bandwidth
I can do it a desk top
But the lap top sure is bliss
Girl makes my flash drive
When I jack into her USB
You know we got the biggest Apples
Cuz we sure ain't PC
Don't know about no Soulseek
(Just looking for a one night stand)
Don't know about no Kazaa
(Ain't that somethin' you hum?)
Don't know about no Limewire
(Got a wire you can squeeze)
You can throw away your iPod
Hook your buds up with my guy rod
Downloadin'
Down on your knees
Downloadin'
Don't catch no mp3s
Downloadin'
'Til ya empty me
You Can't Spell Rock 'n' Roll Without C-O-Apostrophe-K
Teacher told me I'd never 'mount to nuthin'
Didn't know my ABCD's
But the teacher sure did mount to somethin'
When she toured with AC/DC
Cuz it don't matter if you can spell
We got lessons for you that will teach you well
You can't spell Rock'n'Roll
Without
C!
O!
Apostrophe!
K!
You can't spell Rhythm 'n' Blues
Without
Sly!
Rat!
M-E and U!
We've been around the block
Gotta magnum cum loud from the school of rock
You can't spell Rock'n'Roll
without
C!
O!
Apostrophe!
K!
You can't spell Rhythm 'n' Blues
Without
Hum!
Rum!
M-E and U!
You can't make Disco Funk
Without
D-I...
S-U...
F-U...
Ooo, you spell it out for me
I'll Swell If the End's Well
I'm just a po' playwright from Strap-It-On
Name's Billy Stickspeare and I know how to rhyme
You see, this chick Juliet, she's no Romeo
Truth be told she's a real shrew
So I told her, "If you open up my folio
Got lots of play to fill you"
The girl knew how to read between the lines
'I'll Swell If The End's Well'
'About Stuffin', well you know, it's 'Much Ado'
'Titties Anonymous'
Gotta story 'bout a king called 'Dick, Part 2'
She's a real Tempest
She Measured my Measure
Made them Wives from Windsor merry
When I told them...
'I'll Swell If The End's Well'
'About Stuffin', well you know, it's 'Much Ado'
'Titties Anonymous'
Gotta story 'bout a king called 'Dick, Part 2'
For Whom the Bell Ends
Hell ain't cold for a reason
Sure hope they got a stage
There're more ladies there for pleasin'
Even in hell we'll earn our wage
Gettin' near the end of the road
No time to make amends
Lookin' out to you tonight
We ask, For Whom the bell ends?
Gotta press your luck til the bell is struck
Gotta tug the rope to make it ring
Wanna fill that crack in Miss Liberty
The tongue's gotta strike the body to make it ring
Ain't no amps in heaven
Angus don't play no harp
St. Peter ain't clad in denim
All these years kept my pitchfork sharp
Gettin' near the end of the road
No time to make amends
Lookin' out to you tonight
We ask, For Whom the bell ends?
Gotta press your luck til the bell is struck
Gotta tug the rope to make it ring
Wanna fill that crack in Miss Liberty
The tongue's gotta strike the body to make it ring
We ask, For Whom the bell ends?
