Everything Zen by Bush Lyrics Meaning – Navigating the Chaotic Search for Serenity
Lyrics
Maybe find another lover
Should I fly to Los Angeles
Find my asshole brother
Mickey mouse has grown up a cow
Dave’s on sale again
We kissy kiss in the rear view
We’re so bored, you’re to blame
Try to see it once my way
Everything zen, everything zen
I don’t think so
Everything zen, everything zen
I don’t think so
Raindogs howl for the century
A million dollars at stake
As you search for your demigod
And you fake with a saint
There’s no sex in your violence
There’s no sex in your violence
There’s no sex in your violence
There’s no sex in your violence
Try to see it once my way
Everything zen, everything zen
I don’t think so
Everything zen, everything zen
I don’t think so
Everything zen, everything zen
I don’t believe that Elvis is dead, yeah
I don’t believe that Elvis is dead
I don’t believe that Elvis is dead, yeah
I don’t believe that Elvis is, Elvis is
There’s no sex in your violence
There’s no sex in your violence
There’s no sex in your violence
There’s no sex in your violence
Try to see it once my way
Everything zen, everything zen
I don’t think so
Try to see it once my way
Everything zen, everything zen
I don’t think so
Zen, zen
I don’t think so, I don’t think so, I don’t think so
Bush’s ‘Everything Zen’ reverberates with a generation’s angst and quest for calm in a world that defies coherence. This ’90s anthem, a labyrinth of obscure symbolism and raw guitar riffs, articulates a cry against the backdrop of existential chaos. But beneath the surface noise lies a rich tapestry of meaning that resonates with the disaffected souls seeking calm within the storm.
Diving deeper into the lyrics, one uncovers a blend of personal narrative, societal critique, and an intrinsically human struggle for understanding. ‘Everything Zen’ is not just a song but a cultural timestamp, deftly encapsulating the mood of a generation teetering on the edge of the millennium.
L.A. Exposé: The City of Angels or Fallen Dreams?
When the singer ponders a flight to Los Angeles to find his ‘asshole brother,’ we’re not just on a trip to California. We are thrust into a microcosm of broken relationships and faded aspirations. Los Angeles here is symbolic—representing the glitzy facade masking a vacuous core, a place where dreams are commodified and even the closest of ties can strain and snap under the pressure.
The mention of the brother character, laden with familial duty and personal aggravation, encapsulates the dichotomy of seeking connection in a place notorious for its disconnections. It’s a journey many have undertaken, and just as many have regretted.
Re-imagined Icons: Decoding Mickey Mouse and Dave
The evolution of ‘Mickey Mouse’ from a symbol of innocence to ‘grown up a cow’ reflects the loss of naivety, a childhood icon bloated and transformed by consumerism. The line ‘Dave’s on sale again’ could reference David Gilmour of Pink Floyd fame or perhaps highlight the pervasiveness of marketing in turning even human beings into products.
These snippets, awash in symbolic degradation, speak to a disillusionment with what was once considered pure or aspirational. Bush deftly portrays a world where nothing remains untouched by the corrosive effects of commodification.
Echoes of a Bygone Romanticism
The line ‘Raindogs howl for the century, a million dollars at stake,’ could be a nod to Tom Waits’s album ‘Rain Dogs,’ evoking the sense of time slipping by unconquered, with the feeling of being just another stray seeking shelter in a storm. This image is juxtaposed against the ruthless nature of a society fixated on monetary gain, suggesting a conflict between artistic integrity and commercial success.
Bush not only invokes this struggle but paints it as endemic to the human condition in a modern, material-centric world. The lyric is a siren call to those who feel the tides of time pulling them away from their once-hallowed pursuits.
The Paradox of Violent Tranquility
In the potent refrain ‘There’s no sex in your violence,’ the band creates a stark oxymoron, merging two typically opposing forces—intimacy and aggression. This line critiques the detachment and abstraction of modern brutality, straddling the line between an absence of passion in aggressive acts and a broader societal issue where primal instincts are sanitized and repackaged.
The repetition serves as a mantra, emphasizing the disconnection inherent in depersonalized violence, and challenges the listener to contemplate their own desensitization. It’s a philosophical knock at the door of consciousness, begging the question of our own capacity for balance in a world diseased with extremes.
The Immortal versus the Ephemeral: ‘I don’t believe that Elvis is dead’
In perhaps the song’s most memorable moment, lead singer Gavin Rossdale’s refusal to believe in Elvis’s death transcends the idea of the King’s physical demise and delves into the concept of cultural immortality. Elvis Presley, while no longer living, continues to exist through his legacy, much like the elements of our past that refuse to fade into obscurity.
This line stands as a refusal to accept finality, querying our grasp on what lasts and what dissipates. By invoking the image of an icon that endures beyond death, Bush suggests that perhaps there is something eternal within us all, a facet of human nature that can’t be quashed by the passing of time or the ebb of relevance.
