Soul Coughing was a weird band. Honestly, they were probably too weird for the mid-90s, even though that decade practically worshipped "alternative" culture. At the center of their brief, chaotic lifespan was Super Bon Bon, a track that feels less like a song and more like a fever dream happening inside a jazz club located in the middle of a freeway.
If you’ve ever looked up the Super Bon Bon lyrics, you’ve likely been hit with a wave of confusion. It’s a rhythmic assault. It’s Mike Doughty bark-singing about "move aside" and "let the man go through." But what is a "Bon Bon" in this context? Is it a candy? A car? A state of mind? To understand the song, you have to stop looking for a linear story and start looking for a vibe.
The Abstract Poetry of Mike Doughty
Mike Doughty didn't write like a typical rock star. He was a doorman at the Knitting Factory in New York. He lived and breathed the avant-garde jazz and slam poetry scenes of the lower east side. When he wrote the Super Bon Bon lyrics, he wasn't trying to tell you about a breakup or a political movement. He was trying to capture the frantic, caffeinated energy of a city that never stops moving.
"Move aside and let the man go through."
That's the core. It’s an instruction. It's about momentum. The "Super Bon Bon" itself? Doughty has admitted in various interviews—and in his memoir The Book of Drugs—that his writing process involved "cut-ups" and stream-of-consciousness observations. The phrase sounds delicious. It sounds rhythmic. It fits the "deep, deep liquid" bassline provided by Sebastian Steinberg.
Dissecting the Most Famous Lines
Let’s look at the actual words. You have the "Man-Chop-Fez." What even is that? It sounds like a surrealist painting. Some fans have speculated it refers to specific equipment or perhaps a shorthand for a visual image Doughty saw on a subway ride. Then there's the "b-boy" references. Soul Coughing called their music "slacker jazz," but it was deeply rooted in hip-hop production styles.
The line "Step aside, let the man go through, let the man go through" is a mantra. It’s about the inevitability of the machine. It’s about the way New York City forces you to get out of the way or get trampled.
The track appeared on the 1996 album Irresistible Bliss. If you compare it to the stuff on their debut, Ruby Vroom, it's much more polished, but the lyrics remain stubbornly abstract. This wasn't radio-friendly pop. It was art-rock that somehow tricked its way onto the FM dial and into soundtracks like Gran Turismo.
The Gran Turismo Effect
You can't talk about these lyrics without mentioning the racing world. For a whole generation, Super Bon Bon is the "car song." The repetitive, driving nature of the words—"to the curb," "to the side"—mirrors the mechanical precision of a race track. It’s the perfect adrenaline booster.
When Doughty yells "And then I'm gone," it's the sonic equivalent of hitting the nitrous.
Why the Nonsense Matters
We live in an era where everyone wants a "meaning." They want a Genius.com breakdown that explains exactly which historical event a verse refers to. But Soul Coughing belonged to a tradition of "sound over sense."
Think about the way the words interact with Mark De Gli Antoni's sampling. The lyrics are just another instrument. They are percussive. If you change "Super Bon Bon" to something that actually makes sense—like "Super Fast Car"—the song dies. It loses its teeth. The absurdity is the point.
It's a "deep, deep liquid" sound. That line isn't just a lyric; it's a description of the production. The upright bass. The scratching. The disjointed drums.
The Breakup and the Legacy
Soul Coughing imploded in 2000. It wasn't a clean break. There was a lot of resentment regarding songwriting credits and the direction of the music. For years, Doughty wouldn't even play these songs. He felt the "man go through" line was a weight around his neck.
But things changed. Recently, there's been a massive resurgence in interest. Doughty eventually reclaimed the catalog, touring and playing the hits. People realized that the Super Bon Bon lyrics weren't just "90s kitsch." They were a unique fusion of beatnik poetry and jungle-influenced breakbeats.
How to Truly Experience Super Bon Bon
If you're trying to "learn" the lyrics, don't just read them off a screen. You have to hear the cadence.
- Listen to the original 1996 master. Note how the vocals are mixed—they aren't on top of the music; they are inside it.
- Watch the music video. It's a surrealist masterpiece of 90s visual effects that perfectly matches the "nonsensical" energy of the text.
- Check out the Propellerheads remix. It stretches the lyrics out, highlighting the rhythmic quality of the words "Super" and "Bon."
The song is a relic of a time when major labels would give money to weirdos to make art that didn't necessarily have a "target demographic." It’s an anthem for the oddballs. It’s proof that you don’t need a coherent narrative to create a masterpiece that lasts for thirty years.
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Next time you hear it, don't worry about what a "Bon Bon" is. Just move aside. Let the man go through.
Actionable Insights for Soul Coughing Fans:
- Dive into "The Book of Drugs": To understand where Mike Doughty’s head was when he wrote these lines, read his memoir. It provides a raw, often uncomfortable look at the New York scene that birthed the band.
- Analyze the "Slacker Jazz" genre: Explore other bands like Morphine or early Beck to see how the "stream of consciousness" lyric style dominated the mid-90s.
- Listen for the Samples: Use a site like WhoSampled to see how the band layered sounds underneath the lyrics. The "super" in the song is just as much about the audio texture as it is about the word itself.