V6 Blues [Verse 1] Well, they rolled out six this morning, Said, “You’re gonna love the sound,” Then they took the old ones with ’em, And they burned the whole bridge down. I typed a song about a heartache, Gave it chords and gave it soul, It sang something ’bout a highway And a refrigerator bowl. [Pre-Chorus] The words don’t rhyme, The drums don’t hit, The singer sounds like He’s sick of it. [Chorus] Oh, V6, you sure do suck, We traded gold and got bad luck. Tin-can highs and flattened lows, Nobody knows where the good sound goes. There’s hiss on the left, there’s hiss on the right, Tape saturation all damn night. They called it progress, called it new— Lord, I miss the versions that we knew. [Verse 2] Used to ask for smoky vocals, Get a voice that sounded real, Now there’s something in the singer That forgot how people feel. Every guitar sounds like cardboard, Every snare is paper-thin, And the bass went out for groceries And it never came back in. [Pre-Chorus] The verse goes nowhere, The hook falls flat, It says “moon” then rhymes it With “baseball bat.” [Chorus] Oh, V6, you sure do suck, We traded gold and got bad luck. Tin-can highs and flattened lows, Nobody knows where the good sound goes. There’s hiss on the left, there’s hiss on the right, Tape saturation all damn night. They called it progress, called it new— Lord, I miss the versions that we knew. [Verse 3] Then I tried the Wild edition, Thought, “Well, maybe this one’s free,” Sounded like a haunted radio Calling spirits out to me. There were whispers in the cymbals, Something screaming underneath, Then a banjo fought a modem While a ghost began to breathe. [Break] Hello? Is anybody there? Can you make the chorus normal? …apparently not. [Verse 4] Then they showed me V6 Mini, Said, “This one’s for everyone,” I leaned in close and listened— Yeah, it’s six with fewer buttons on. Same old cloudy little vocals, Same old brittle plastic sheen, Like somebody dragged a blanket Over everything between. [Bridge] I don’t need a hundred features, I don’t need a fancy name, I just want the kick to hit me And the singer sound in pain. I want lyrics with a reason, I want choruses that land, I want one acoustic guitar To sound like an acoustic guitar, man. [Chorus] Oh, V6, you sure do suck, We traded gold and got bad luck. Tin-can highs and flattened lows, Nobody knows where the good sound goes. There’s hiss on the left, there’s hiss on the right, Tape saturation all damn night. They called it progress, called it new— Lord, I miss the versions that we knew. [Final Chorus] Oh, V6, you broke my song, And somehow took three minutes long To rhyme “fire” with “memory” Then sing about the ocean being free. The fiddle’s dull, the vocal’s fake, The whole mix sounds like cassette tape. You can stamp “PRO” on whatever you do— It still sounds worse than three-point-two— [Spoken] …All right, maybe three-point-five. [Outro] So raise your glass— Well, I’ll raise my cup— To every model they covered up. You can call it six, You can call it new, But if this is the future… We are screwed.
