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Ian Dury & The Blockheads – Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick

About the Song

Ian Dury & The Blockheads burst onto the music scene with a rebellious energy and a unique blend of punk, ska, and pub rock. Their most iconic song, “Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick”, became an anthem for a generation, a call to arms for those seeking to break free from the monotony of everyday life.

Released in 1978, the song was a breath of fresh air in a music landscape dominated by polished pop and predictable rock. Dury’s distinctive Cockney drawl, coupled with the band’s infectious energy, created a sound that was both exhilarating and irreverent. The lyrics, a playful mix of nonsense syllables and catchy phrases, invited listeners to join in the fun and abandon themselves to the rhythm.

The song’s infectious beat, driven by a relentless rhythm section, propelled it to the top of the charts. It was more than just a song; it was a cultural phenomenon, a rallying cry for those who felt marginalized and disenfranchised. “Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick” became a symbol of rebellion, a celebration of individuality, and a reminder that life is meant to be enjoyed with gusto.

Beyond its catchy melody and energetic performance, the song also had a social and political undercurrent. Dury’s lyrics, while often humorous and nonsensical, touched on themes of social inequality and the plight of the working class. The song’s popularity helped to bring attention to these issues and gave a voice to those who had been overlooked.

Even today, “Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick” retains its power to move and inspire. It’s a song that celebrates life, encourages individuality, and reminds us of the importance of letting loose and having fun.

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Lyrics: Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick

In the deserts of Sudan
And the gardens of Japan
From Milan to Yucatán
Every woman, every manHit me with your rhythm stick
Hit me! Hit me!
Je t’adore, ich liebe dich
Hit me! Hit me! Hit me!
Hit me with your rhythm stick
Hit me slowly, hit me quick
Hit me! Hit me! Hit me!

In the wilds of Borneo
And the vineyards of Bordeaux
Eskimo, Arapaho
Move their body to and fro

Hit me with your rhythm stick
Hit me! Hit me!
Das ist gut, c’est fantastique
Hit me! Hit me! Hit me!
Hit me with your rhythm stick
It’s nice to be a lunatic
Hit me! Hit me! Hit me!

Hit me! Hit me! Hit!

In the dock of Tiger Bay
On the road to Mandalay
From Bombay to Santa Fé
Over the hills far away

Hit me with your rhythm stick
Hit me! Hit me!
C’est si bon, ist es nicht
Hit me! Hit me! Hit me!
Hit me with your rhythm stick
Two fat persons, click, click, click
Hit me! Hit me! Hit me!

Hit me! Hit me! Hit me!
Hit me!
Hit me!
Hit me!

Hit me!
Hit me!
Hit me! Hit me!

Hit me!
Hit me!
Hit me!
Hit me!
Hit me!
Hit me!
Hit me! Hit me! Hit me!

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Some of the saddest photographs of Elvis Presley are not the ones in which he looks tired. They are the ones in which he is smiling. By then, he had everything his younger self could once have dreamed about: money, Graceland, worldwide fame and audiences that still screamed his name. Yet success had never taught him how to replace the people and pieces of life he had lost along the way.

Some Elvis stories are remembered because they happened beneath enormous stage lights. Others survive because they supposedly happened when almost nobody was watching. One such story tells of Elvis noticing an elderly woman struggling with groceries and stopping to help her. For a man accustomed to people noticing him, the striking detail is that he noticed someone else first.

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