Dead Kennedys' lyrics were usually political in nature, satirizing the Reagan Administration and the American establishment in general, as well as popular culture and even the punk movement itself. Several stores refused to stock their recordings, sparking debate about censorship in rock music. Jello Biafra became an active campaigner against the Parents Music Resource Center (PMRC), culminating in an obscenity trial in 1985-1986 which resulted in a hung jury.
The group released a total of four studio albums and one EP before disbanding in 1986. Following the band's dissolution, Jello Biafra continued to collaborate and record with other artists including D.O.A., NoMeansNo and his own bands Lard and the Guantanamo School of Medicine, as well as releasing spoken word performances and becoming an activist with the Green Party.
In 2000, Jello Biafra lost an acrimonious legal case initiated by his former Dead Kennedys band mates over songwriting credits and unpaid royalties. In 2001, the band reformed; various singers have since been recruited for vocal duties.
Holiday In Cambodia
Dead Kennedys Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
For a year or two
And you know you've seen it all
In daddy's car
Thinking you'll go far
Back east your type don't crawl
Playing ethnicky jazz
On your five-grand stereo
Braggin' that you know
How the niggers feel cold
And the slum's got so much soul
It's time to taste what you most fear
Right Guard will not help you here
Brace yourself, my dear
Brace yourself, my dear
It's a holiday in Cambodia
It's tough, kid, but it's life
It's a holiday in Cambodia
Don't forget to pack a wife
You're a star-belly snitch
You suck like a leech
You want everyone to act like you
Kiss ass while you bitch
So you can get rich
While your boss gets richer off you
Well, you'll work harder
With a gun in your back
For a bowl of rice a day
Slave for soldiers
Till you starve
Then your head is skewered on a stake
Now you can go where the people are one
Now you can go where they get things done
What you need, my son...
What you need, my son...
Is a holiday in Cambodia
Where people are dressed in black
A holiday in Cambodia
Where you'll kiss ass or crack
Pol Pot, Pol Pot, Pol Pot, Pol Pot
It's a holiday in Cambodia
Where you'll do what you're told
It's a holiday in Cambodia
Where the slums got so much soul
Pol Pot
The Dead Kennedys released "Holiday in Cambodia" in 1980 as a single and later included it in their debut album "Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables." The song is a satirical commentary on the privileged American youth of the era and their lack of understanding of the real world outside their bubble. The lyrics are critical of the ignorance and arrogance of many young people who believe they know everything because they have gone to college or belong to a certain social class.
The song opens by addressing those who have gone to school, thinking they have seen it all, in their daddy's car, thinking they'll go far, but that their type doesn't crawl back east. The band mocks the young people who play "ethnicky jazz" to parade their snazzy lifestyle on their fancy stereos while bragging that they understand the plight of the impoverished communities. The lyrics explicitly mention "how the niggers feel cold, and the slum's got so much soul," which is a direct reflection of the racial and social disconnect they're discussing.
The chorus of the song reveals the true message of the lyrics. The band sarcastically calls the situation a "holiday in Cambodia," which sounds exotic and luxurious but is, in reality, life-threateningly dangerous. The next verse directly calls out the corporate culture that exploits those at the bottom of the economic ladder. The song alleges that the star-belly snitches suck like leeches, and everyone is expected to act like them, kiss ass while bitching, so they can get rich while their boss gets even richer because of their hard work.
Overall, "Holiday in Cambodia" is a satirical song that aims to open people's eyes to the issues of income inequality, classism, and privilege that continue to exist in our society. The song sounds strangely upbeat and happy with an ironic tinge, but the lyrics are quite dark and serious, warning the privileged American youth of the dire conditions outside their bubble.
Line by Line Meaning
So, you've been to school
You think you're educated and worldly-wise
For a year or two
But your experience is actually quite limited
And you know you've seen it all
And you believe you've experienced everything there is to see
In daddy's car
Behaving like you're entitled and superior, driving around in your father's car
Thinking you'll go far
Believing you're destined for greatness
Back east your type don't crawl
But being ignorant of the struggles and issues faced by regular people back home
Playing ethnicky jazz
Acting like you're cultured and sophisticated by listening to jazz from other cultures
To parade your snazz
And showing off how trendy and fashionable you are
On your five-grand stereo
Through listening to expensive music equipment that the average person can't afford
Braggin' that you know
Pretending to understand the struggles of other people
How the niggers feel cold
When you don't really understand the realities of racism and inequality
And the slum's got so much soul
Romanticizing poverty and ignoring the real suffering of those living in slums
It's time to taste what you most fear
But eventually coming face to face with realities you've been sheltered from
Right Guard will not help you here
No amount of preparation or protection will save you
Brace yourself, my dear
Get ready for a rude awakening
It's a holiday in Cambodia
Going to a place that represents the complete opposite of your privileged life
It's tough, kid, but it's life
Coming to terms with the harsh realities and struggles faced by others
Don't forget to pack a wife
And being naive enough to think that simply bringing someone along will keep you safe and comfortable
You're a star-belly snitch
Being an obnoxious and arrogant person, who tattles on others for your own benefit
You suck like a leech
You are draining others of their resources without any consideration for their struggle
You want everyone to act like you
Being insulated in your own world, where you are the center of attention
Kiss ass while you bitch
Trying to ingratiate yourself with those who are more powerful than you
So you can get rich
In the hopes of getting ahead and becoming wealthy
While your boss gets richer off you
But at the end of the day, your boss is the one who truly profits off of your labor
Well, you'll work harder
Now realizing that you underestimated the difficulties of this new environment
With a gun in your back
And feeling forced to work under terrible conditions
For a bowl of rice a day
Making barely enough money to survive
Slave for soldiers
Being forced to work for the military, with no autonomy or agency
Till you starve
Suffering and dying from malnutrition and disease
Then your head is skewered on a stake
Being executed for going against the regime in power
Now you can go where the people are one
Going to a place where everyone is united in their struggle
Now you can go where they get things done
Where people are working to make real change happen
What you need, my son...
Perhaps you will finally learn something
What you need, my son...
Like humility, empathy, and a sense of social responsibility
Is a holiday in Cambodia
The only way to truly understand the reality of others is to live it yourself
Where people are dressed in black
Amidst the darkness and oppression, there is a sense of solidarity and shared experience
Where you'll kiss ass or crack
You will have to adapt to the new environment, or suffer the consequences
Pol Pot, Pol Pot, Pol Pot, Pol Pot
A reminder of the brutal and authoritarian regime that ruled Cambodia in the late 70s
Where you'll do what you're told
A place where freedom and autonomy are scarce
Where the slums got so much soul
But despite it all, there is a sense of community and spirit that transcends the suffering
Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Written by: BRUCE SLESINGER, JELLO BIAFRA, KLAUS FLOURIDE, EAST BAY RAY
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
yo mamma
on This Could Be Anywhere
fuck yo
u
u
u