Got Mashed Potatoes

A favorite question for many is "If you could choose one record/book/etc. to keep you company while stuck on a desert island, what would it be?"

I wouldn't need a whole album. And let's change the question a bit. Let's get rid of the desert island. Let's say I die and go to hell.

If I die and go to hell, and am allowed to have just one wish fulfilled in hell, as I tiptoe through the baking-hot corridors, sharpening devil horns and wistfully glancing toward the happy souls in heaven, I would like to listen to Neil Young's "T-Bone" for all of eternity. I think that would make me happy. No. I know it would make me happy.

It's nine minutes and thirteen seconds of bliss. For your enjoyment and understanding, I present the song's lyrics, in their entirety:

Got mashed potatoes
Got mashed potatoes
Got mashed potatoes
Ain't got no T-Bone
Ain't got no T-Bone
Got mashed potatoes
Got mashed potatoes
Got mashed potatoes
Got mashed potatoes
Ain't got no T-Bone
Got mashed potatoes
Got mashed potatoes
Got mashed potatoes
Ain't got no T-Bone
Ain't got no T-Bone
Got mashed potatoes
Got mashed potatoes
Got mashed potatoes
Ain't got no T-Bone
Ain't got no T-Bone
T-Bone
Got mashed potatoes
Got mashed potatoes
Got mashed potatoes
Ain't got no T-Bone
Ain't got no T-Bone
Ain't got no T-Bone
Ain't got no T-Bone
No T-Bone
Got mashed potatoes
Got mashed potatoes
Got mashed potatoes
Ain't got no T-Bone
Ain't got no T-Bone
Ain't got no T-Bone
Ain't got no T-Bone
Ain't got no T-Bone
Ain't got no T-Bone
Got mashed potatoes
Got mashed potatoes
Got mashed potatoes
Ain't got no T-Bone
Got mashed potatoes
Got mashed potatoes
Got mashed potatoes
Ain't got no T-Bone
Ain't got no T-Bone
Ain't got no T-Bone
Ain't got no T-Bone
Ain't got no T-Bone

He really lays it all out there for the listener, doesn't he? The glass is half-full. The glass is half-empty. Bam!

In college, we used to use this song as a party-closer -- a song designed to get the stragglers the hell out of our house. It didn't work. Oh, sure, we'd get strange looks and rolled eyes when people heard the lyrics. Some drunk girl would laugh about mashed potatoes. But then everybody sort of settled into the groove of the song. It just soared along in the background, propelling the mood rather than stifling it. We could have put the song on permanent repeat, and people would have stayed -- I'm convinced, actually, that the crowd would have increased.

In fact, if I could do college over again, I would have a "T-Bone-Only" party. No other music. Just "T-Bone". Over and over, for hours.

At first it would start out with people laughing at the song. There would undoubtedly be some over-made-up pretty girls and pretty boys bitching about the song selection. But eventually their claims would fade away. Close listeners would catch on to the beginning beat of the song -- that great two-beat emphasis in which bass, guitar, drums and claps play at once. And as the song gained strength, they would hear how that two-beat battle cry simplified into one dynamic snare beat -- everything coming back to Ralph Molina's snare. And as people became ensnared in their conversations, they would probably forget how after a while, even that one, magnificent beat degraded into a beautiful mush of lead guitar. Long-time fans would acknowledge it is not Neil's best playing. No notes really stand out from each other. There are no catchy repeated lines like in "Southern Man". No hooks like in "Down by the River" or "Cowgirl in the Sand". And in that sense of modesty -- perhaps after hearing a couple dozen plays -- the audience would understand that the song's parts elevate the whole. Soon alcohol would spur spirited discussions of whether the song is positive or negative -- who is on the mashed potatoes side? Who believes it is T-Bone? After all, Neil did name it T-Bone. And he sings "ain't got no T-Bone" as often as he sings "got mashed potatoes". Eventually the party would break into ranks and a great chant would begin in unison with the song, one side screaming: "got mashed potatoes" and the other: "ain't got no T-Bone". Then after a while, someone would get smart and order take-out and we would all eat mashed potatoes and T-Bone to really see what it is like to have a cake and eat it too.

That's how I think it would go anyway.

But I'd be happy to settle for the song in hell. After all, I've been playing it at work. I prefer at least three consecutive listens. And with each listen, I up the volume a little bit more so that by the end of my shift, I can't even hear the phone ringing or the person behind me asking a question. They have to tap me on the shoulder. Then I get in my car and turn on AM radio, and if no one is saying anything to go with the bright lights of downtown Milwaukee, I get the iPod going - the ride home supports approximately two listens. And if I hit the lights right and get home faster, there's no shame while sitting in the car as the song plays out -- bobbing my head...got mashed potatoes...no T-Bone.

Right now it's past three in the morning. But as I've been at the computer, the fifth run of "T-Bone" just began. I don't really have anything going on right now. I could turn off the music and go downstairs to bed. But what would be the point when I could do that, say, eight minutes from now? After all, it's already begun. I can't just leave the rest of that song out there, incomplete.

Now that I think about this, maybe it's time for a site overhaul. Instead of One of Ours, maybe, "Got Mashed Potatoes". Or should it be, "Ain't Got no T-Bone"? That, Hamlet, is the real question. And in the next few minutes, I'm just going to sit here, slowly sip down the rest of my beer, and ponder it.