Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention - Trouble Every Day
Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention's "Trouble Every Day," released in 1966 on their debut album Freak Out!, stands as a powerful and early example of Zappa's incisive social commentary. The song was written in the immediate aftermath of the 1965 Watts Riots in Los Angeles, an event that deeply affected Zappa and prompted him to address racial violence, economic inequality, and the sensationalism of media coverage. Originally conceived as "The Watts Riot Song," it directly reflects Zappa's observations of the unrest and his critique of how it was portrayed.
The recording of "Trouble Every Day" played a crucial role in The Mothers of Invention securing their record deal. Producer Tom Wilson, known for his work with Bob Dylan, signed the band to MGM Records after hearing this track alone, reportedly under the impression that they were a white blues band. The song's raw energy, blues-infused guitar work, and direct lyrical approach set it apart from much of the music of its time. It features Zappa's distinctive guitar solos and a vocal delivery that blends cynicism with a genuine concern for social justice. Over the years, "Trouble Every Day" has remained a significant piece in Zappa's catalog, often performed live and later appearing in extended versions, such as "More Trouble Every Day" on the 1974 live album Roxy & Elsewhere, showcasing its enduring relevance as a commentary on societal issues and media manipulation.
Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention Trouble Every Day Lyrics
Well I'm about to get sick
From watchin' my TV
Been checkin' out the news
Until my eyeballs fail to see
I mean to say that every day
Is just another rotten mess
And when it's gonna change, my friend
Is anybody's guess
So I'm watchin' and I'm waitin'
Hopin' for the best
Even think I'll go to prayin'
Every time I hear 'em sayin'
That there's no way to delay
That trouble comin' every day
No way to delay
That trouble comin' every day
Wednesday I watched the riot
I seen the cops out on the street
Watched 'em throwin' rocks and stuff
And chokin' in the heat
Listened to reports
About the whisky passin' 'round
Seen the smoke and fire
And the market burnin' down
Watched while everybody
On his street would take a turn
To stomp and smash and bash and crash
And slash and bust and burn
And I'm watchin' and I'm waitin'
Hopin' for the best
Even think I'll go to prayin'
Every time I hear 'em sayin'
That there's no way to delay
That trouble comin' every day
No way to delay
That trouble comin' every day
Well, you can cool it, you can heat it
'Cause, baby, I don't need it
Take your TV tube and eat it
'N all that phony stuff on sports
'N all the unconfirmed reports
You know I watched that rotten box
Until my head begin to hurt
From checkin' out the way
The newsman say they get the dirt
Before the guys on channel so-and-so
And further they assert
That any show they'll interrupt
To bring you news if it comes up
They say that if the place blows up
They will be the first to tell
Because the boys they got downtown
Are workin' hard and doin' swell
And if anybody gets the news
Before it hits the street
They say that no one blabs it faster
Their coverage can't be beat
And if another woman driver
Gets machine-gunned from her seat
They'll send some joker with a Brownie
And you'll see it all complete
So I'm watchin' and I'm waitin'
Hopin' for the best
Even think I'll go to prayin'
Every time I hear 'em sayin'
That there's no way to delay
That trouble comin' every day
No way to delay
That trouble comin' every day
Hey, you know something, people?
I'm not black but there's a whole lots a times I wish I could say I'm not white
Well, I seen the fires burnin'
And the local people turnin'
On the merchants and the shops
Who used to sell their brooms and mops
And every other household item
Watched a mob just turn and bite 'em
And they say it served 'em right
Because a few of them were white
And it's the same across the nation
Black and white discrimination
Yellin' "You can't understand me!"
'N all that other jazz they hand me
In the papers and TV
And all that mass stupidity
That seems to grow more every day
Each time you hear some nitwit say
He wants to go and do you in
Because the color of your skin
Just don't appeal to him
No matter if it's black or white
Because he's out for blood tonight
You know we got to sit around at home
And watch this thing begin
But I bet there won't be many
Live to see it really end
'Cause the fire in the street
Ain't like the fire in the heart
And in the eyes of all these people
Don't you know that this could start
On any street in any town
In any state if any clown
Decides that now's the time to fight
For some ideal he thinks is right
And if a million more agree
There ain't no Great Society
As it applies to you and me
Our country isn't free
And the law refuses to see
If all that you can ever be
Is just a lousy janitor
Unless your uncle owns a store
You know that five in every four
Just won't amount to nothin' more
Gonna watch the rats go across the floor
And make up songs about being poor
Blow your harmonica, son!