Beck Hansen(born Bek David Campbell, July 8, 1970) is an American musician, singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist. Beck's music--with its pop-junk culture collage of musical styles, obtuse, ironic lyrics, and post-modern arrangements incorporating samples, drum machines, live instrumentation and heady sound effects--was among the most idiosyncratic of '90s alternative rock. Though his most popular albums were released in the 1990s, Beck continues to inspire fans well into the modern age of alternative rock, with his creative songwriting combined with his innovative production style and neverending willingness to experiment and surprise. Beck was born in Los Angeles, California, to David Campbell(a musician and son of a presbyterian minister) and Bibbe Hansen(a former dancer for The Velvet Underground, member of Black Fag, and visual artist). When his parents separated, Beck stayed with his mother and brother in Los Angeles, where he was influenced by that city's diverse musical offerings—everything from hip-hopto latinmusic—and his mother's art scene – all of which would later reappear in his recorded and published work.
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Curses Lyrics
Beck
Curses I send
On these countless men
Curses on their trespasses
Will they never end?
Curses on their blades
On the spare and open lanes
Once Ive been searching
Recipe acclaim (? ? )
Curses on their children
Runnin all around
Makin such a business
While Im rusting in the ground
I might rise up to meet them
When they leave this life
Might rise up to eat them
When they leave this life
Curses on this valley
And the lands on up ahead
I was on my way to meet them
When they found me dead
And I clapped my brittle hands
And I made them join my game
Now I hope they all decease
And marry a man in shame
Curse every word
Thats planted on their lips
Curse the sleek machine
And their iron colored ships
Curse every wave that
Pounds a wicked shore
Curse every salesman
Knocking on their door
And I am not a creature
And I am not a dog
I have no claim to be there
In the evening fog
And I am not a bone
Staring through the air
Have no say in anything
My tongue is barely there
Curses on curses
I see no other way
Some of them are weeping
And some of them gay
Some of them have worn
So deep they feel no pain
Curses on their fingers
Curses on their brains