This recording of this song aspires to what I believe the music press likes to call “amiable sloppiness.”

I thought it was important to deflate any unreasonable expectations of slickness — or even competence — early on.

A Star Is Bored was a frequent part of my sets back when I was doing the acoustic post-punker thing in the late 80s and early 90s. I virtually never read the rock press but I was stuck in an airport or train station on a backpack tour through Europe back in ’86 and picked up a Spin magazine. In it was some kind of article about some rocker. The writer couldn’t seem to get over the burden of this rock star’s crushing boredom. The rock scribbler was pouring out empathy for this multimillionaire.

Now, I’m as compassionate as the next jaded old cynic, but somehow I was having a rough time wrapping myself around this rich rock star’s life dilemma…

Anyhow, this is what spilled out…

A STAR IS BORED

A star is bored
prowling empty hotel hallways
He’s never alone
so how come he’s always lonely

Nothing gets him down
it’s all just the same
saying “If you think you’re bored,
then you should see me!”

Down in the bar
leaning into a smokey corner
trying not to catch her eye:
“Say, cowboy, why you dressed like that?”

And it always seems to
go down about the same
It kills a couple of hours
but it don’t kill the pain

Tell him a story
make it long, make it lonely
Lots of starstruck summer nights
and the moon’s reflection on the river that runs through
everything

Nothing makes much sense
but he guesses that’s just life
Ya play a few songs
and then they turn out the lights

Yeah, nothing makes much sense
and he guesses that’s just life
You have a couple of laughs
and then you call it a night