[INTRO] [Whispered frantically over a low, grinding fuzz bass and steady hi-hat] Okay, so look, look, look They Live, 1988, John Carpenter. It’s an allegory for Reaganomics and corporate greed The billboards say CONSUME! The money says THIS IS YOUR GOD! It’s brilliant! It’s profound! It’s [Beat cuts abruptly. Loud feedback squeal.] WAIT. FORGET THAT. THERE IS A SIX-MINUTE FIGHT IN AN ALLEYWAY. [DRUM COUNT-IN: Loud snap snare] ONE! TWO! THREE! GO! [VERSE] [Fast-talking, breathless rap with sharp, hacking guitar riffs] So Roddy Piper plays Nada, he’s a drifter in LA, Looking for a honest job, just trying to get paid, He finds a box of sunglasses hidden in a church, Puts ’em on. BOOM! ends his spiritual search! Now the sky turns gray! The billboards change! The rich elite look formaldehydefaced and strange! He walks into a bank, draws a shotgun, says: “I’m out of bubblegum, time to kick some ass!” [Guitars stop for a beat] Which is a great line! A classic line! ...But that’s not why we’re here. BECAUSE HE RUNS INTO THE ALLEY. [CHORUS] [Guitars explode into ugly, thick heavy distortion; roaring gang vocals] SIX-MINUTE FIGHT! SIX-MINUTE FIGHT! I'm trying to explain the alien satire, BUT THAT ALLEY BRAWL IS A WILDFIRE! He’s punching Keith David! Keith David’s punching back! Two heavyweights having a cardiac attack! SIX MINUTES! SIX MINUTES OF ABSOLUTE DUST! JUST PUT THE DAMN GLASSES ON! [VERSE] [Bass-driven groove with tape scratches and manic side-chatter] Okay! Back to the plot! Nada meets Frank (Keith David! Legendary voice!) Frank says, "I got a job, I follow the rules, I don’t want no noise." Nada says, "Brother, look through these lenses, see the alien boys!" Frank says, "No! I’m walking the white line!" Nada says, "Put ’em on!" Frank says, "NO!" Nada looks him in the eye and he utters the line: [Echoing vocal distortion] “EITHER PUT ON THESE GLASSES OR START EATIN' THAT TRASH CAN!” [Beat drops to hyper-active hard disco drums] AND THEN IT BEGINS! ROUND ONE! Trash can to the stomach! ROUND TWO! Body slam on the asphalt! They are rolling in dirt! They are kicking the groin! This isn't superhero fighting, this is joint-pain, exhaustion, and muscle strain! They stop for ten seconds to catch their breath... THEN THEY START PUNCHING AGAIN! [CHORUS] [Heavy, crashing beat with sirens] SIX-MINUTE FIGHT! SIX-MINUTE FIGHT! I swear there's a sci-fi plot in this movie, BUT THE BRAWL IS THE ONLY HIGHLIGHT! Left hook! Right cross! Wall slam! Knee drop! WHY WON'T KEITH DAVID JUST MAKE IT STOP?! They look like two tired dads fighting over a lawnmower! JUST PUT THE DAMN GLASSES ON! [BRIDGE] [Guitars drop out completely. Tempo slows down slightly into an anxious, paranoid rhythm with whispered vocals and creepy detuned echoes] (Whisper) Think about the logic. (Whisper) Just think about it for a second. It takes ten seconds to put on sunglasses. Ten... seconds. If my best friend said: "Hey, put these on, aliens are real," I’d say: "Okay, bro, sure, let's see." But Frank said: "NOT THIS YEAR!" [Build-up starts: Snare roll accelerates rapidly, bass distortion swells] So they fought through three alleyways! Through a wooden door! Through a brick wall! Nada suplexes him onto concrete! Keith David kicks him right in the junk! THEY ARE DYING! THEY ARE BLEEDING! ALL TO AVOID WEARING A PAIR OF FOSTER GRANTS! [Screaming into the mic] HE COULD HAVE JUST TRIED THEM ON! [GUITAR SOLO / CHAOS SECTION] [ screeching guitar squeals, frantic tom fills] [VERSE 3 - FAST RAP] [rushed, panicked, double-time delivery] Okay fine, Frank puts 'em on, sees the skull-faced freaks, They join the resistance, plot takes off for weeks! Giant TV tower broadcasting hidden commands: "OBEY! MARRY! REPRODUCE! OBEY THE LAND!" They crash the alien party, spray bullets in the hall, Nada hits the rooftop, tower’s gonna fall! Gets shot by a helicopter, flip 'em the middle finger, Destroys the transmitter, truth begins to linger! The signal goes down, humanity awakes, Nada dies a hero for all of our sakes! [Beat cuts dead.] ...Yeah, that was cool and all. BUT REMEMBER WHEN THEY FOUGHT IN THE DIRT FOR SIX MINUTES?! [FINAL CHORUS / OUTRO] [Maximum intensity: explosive drum fills, full band yelling] SIX! MINUTE! FIGHT! SIX! MINUTE! FIGHT! I know he sacrificed his life for the world, BUT HAVE YOU SEEN THIS SIX-MINUTE FIGHT?! [Shouted back-and-forth gang vocals] PUNCH! (KICK!) TRASH CAN! (BRICK!) FRANK GETS DROPPED! NADA GETS HIT! THEY'RE TOO TIRED TO STAND! THEY'RE STILL THROWING SPIT! [Everything cuts except a dirty, grinding bass and a thumping kick drum] I mean... the satire on capitalism is brilliant. John Carpenter is a genius director. The ending makes you rethink society... BUT THEY FOUGHT IN AN ALLEYWAY FOR SIX WHOLE MINUTES! JUST PUT THE DAMN GLASSES ON! [Final heavy chord crash + tape stop effect]
