The Moshing Floor

[Image: 'Squint' Front Cover]

Sections:

Lyrics

Pendleton elbows
Stick in my craw
Old Doc Marten
He made me say "ah"

Deck your best partner
Lasses or lads
Don't you feel lucky
In you knee pads?

On the moshing floor
Whatever, whatever
On the moshing floor
Whatever, whatever

Whatever stage, whatever floor
Hangtime, hangtime
And it's 1, 2, 3, 4
What are we diving for?

No guru, no mother
No method, no smile
Nice style, bad form
Is the body still warm?

I wanna see you blink

Shrinks in lab coats
Huddle in the back
Whatcha blaming me for?
I'm just the soundtrack

All you baby boomers
Feigning dismay
You hired the nanny
You faked her resume

On the moshing floor
Whatever, whatever
On the moshing floor
Whatever, whatever

Whatever stage, whatever floor
Hangtime, hangtime
And it's 1, 2, 3, 4
What are we diving for?

No guru, no mother
No method, no smile
Nice style, bad form
Is the body still warm?

I wanna do that crawl

Malls and religion
Build the new forts
Jesus is a franchise
In their food courts

Who needs commitment?
You gargle, then spit
Just like the home team
In the moshing pit

Whatever stage, whatever floor
Hangtime, hangtime
And it's 1, 2, 3, 4
What are we diving for?

On the moshing floor
Whatever, whatever
On the moshing floor
Whatever, whatever

No guru, no mother
No mother, no method
Nice style, bad form
Is the body still warm?

Whatever stage, whatever floor
Hangtime, hangtime
And it's 1, 2, 3, 4
What are we diving for?

On the moshing floor
Whatever, whatever
On the moshing floor
Whatever, whatever

No guru, no mother
No mother, no method
No method, no style,
Nice style, bad form

On the moshing floor
Whatever, whatever
On the moshing floor
Whatever, whatever

No guru, no mother
No method, no smile
Nice style, bad form
Everybody's stillborn


Recorded Appearances

Albums

Compilations

Promos


About The Song

From Squintlets, "The Lament..." promotional Squint CD, 1993:

The Moshing Floor; the germ of that idea came after a concert that Chagall Guevara did which was like absolute mayhem. Probably the key to the song is on the third verse--"Malls and religion / build the new forts / Jesus is a franchise / in the food courts"--it's like Jesus is nothing more than just something you pick off a menu and mix in with whatever else you want to have and call it a philosophy or whatever.

From The Flying Chicken, The Monkey Temple, The Cotton Castle, Campus Life, March 1994:

The moshing floor is the landing pad for stage divers. It's also a metaphor for the end of the 20th century, where the only action is reaction ("whatever, whatever"), and all commitment to principles gets lost in the free fall.