Laurie Anderson The Rotowhirl Lyrics:
Around 1978, I met a comedian, Andy Kaufmann. And
he was performing his avant-garde Elise act in a
club in Queens. The performance started with Andy
playing the bongos, and for some unknown reason,
sobbing. We became friends and I acted as Andy's
straight man in clubs and field trips. At the
Improv in New York Andy would begin his show by
insulting women and saying, "I won't respect
them until one of them comes up here and wrestles
me down." This was supposed to be my job. I sat
in the club drinking whiskies trying to get up the
nerve. In the meantime I was also supposed to be
heckling him. And after three whiskies I managed
to get pretty abusive. Wrestling him down though
was really hard because Andy really fought. On our
field trips we would go to Coney Island to try out
some of Andy's theories on cutting-edge comedy.
We'd stand around the "test your strength"
games, the one with the big sledgehammer in the
bell, and Andy would make fun of all the guys who
were swinging away. And I was supposed to beg him
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for one of the huge stuffed bunnies. "Oh Andy
Honey, please get me a bunny, please, please."
Finally Andy would step up to the big thermometer
and take a swing. The indicator would rise a few
inches and "Try again, weakling!" would flash.
At this point Andy would start yelling that the
game was wicked and demanding to see the manager.
We also went at the rotowhirl, the ride that
plasters everyone against the walls of a spinning
cylinder, and stretches their bodies into
Dopplered blobs. Before the ride actually starts,
there are a couple of awkward minutes while the
attendant checks the motor and the riders, bound
head and foot, stare at each other. This was the
moment that Andy seized. He would start by looking
around in a panick and then he would start to cry.
"I don't wanna be on this ride, I've changed
my mind; we're all gonna die." The other
riders would look around self-consciously. Should
they help? He would then begin to sob
uncontrollably. I loved Andy. He would come over
to my house and read from a novel he was writing;
he would read all night. And I don't know if any
of this book was ever even published. I have never
been one that hoped that Elvis is still hanging
around somewhere, hiding, but I will probably
always expect to see Andy reappear, someday.
Lyrics: The Rotowhirl, Laurie Anderson [end]