We start out with Kris (presumably) driving a beat-up truck down a lonely country road at night, and then turning into the darkened entrance lane of a questionable establishment, a murky-looking place that makes me think “inbred serial killers on the loose”. As Kris drives further along, it turns out that we might be at the town dump or a coal mine or the remains of Mel Gibson’s career. Wherever we aware, they have enough electricity to spell out Kris’ name in giant letters, so it’s all good.
While Driver Kris finds a nice place to park, we have Singer Kris suddenly appearing, hollering into the microphone in a place where there are dirty sheets blowing in the wind. Then we’re back to Driver Kris still… driving. (Is he one of those people that will circle the lot until they can get one slot closer to the door?) While he makes up his mind, we head back to Singer Kris in the middle of the wafting laundry.
Finally, Driver Kris makes a decision and gets out of the pickup. (Since he’s now exited the vehicle, we’ll have to call him Wandering Kris.) He moseys around the place for a little bit, then he either sets off a flare or has an unfortunate experience with one of those cheap lighters you impulse-buy when purchasing beer. He then proceeds to saunter around the junkyard, waving the flare in the air. (Like he just don’t care?)
Meanwhile, we can see a little more of where Singer Kris is standing, and it seems to be an unfinished structure that involves lots of metal beams and unsteady flooring. (Is this where the Republicans are building those jobs they keep promising but never seem to produce?) Singer Kris isn’t saying, probably more invested in keeping the billowing and dirty undergarments from whacking him in the head.
Flare Kris is still wandering and looking for whatever. We’re just about to get bored with that mess when he manages to stagger into an area with those breaker boxes that typically control electricity. These look big enough that they could probably unleash deadly bolts of sizzle, so I wouldn’t be all that interested in flipping things. But Flare Kris is not afraid (he faced repeated judgment from Simon Cowell, after all) so he goes for it.
This bit of risk-taking manages to start turning on the rest of the lights in that weird structure where Singer Kris has been warbling. Turns out those lights are very special, and they start fluctuating on and off to spell out numbers. Hey, we’re in a giant digital clock! Didn’t see that coming. I guess Singer Kris didn’t see it coming, either, and he has now been replaced by Guitar Kris, who proceeds to strum and wail.
Flare Kris isn’t done with changing our perceptions of the universe, so he heads over to… well, we don’t learn just yet. We instead cut back to Guitar Kris so he can finish playing the bridge to the next part of the song. Then we’re presented with Kris (maybe it’s Flair, maybe it’s a new one) sitting at a big-ass piano plopped in the sand in front of the giant clock thing. This Kris bangs on the keyboard for a while, allowing us to realize that the clock in the background seems to be counting down to some fateful event. Or maybe we’re just waiting for popcorn to be done in the microwave.
Oh look, there’s Singer Kris again, so I guess he survived whatever knocked him out of the picture for a while. He and the bed sheets sing for a while as the clock continues to flash numbers. Quick shot of another Kris staring forlornly at some parking-lot lights. Did they have a bad breakup?
Piano Kris again, having a swell time with the keys. (I wonder if anybody has told him that you really shouldn’t drag a piano out into the desert. That blowing sand and crap is going to do a number on the strings, pronto. He better get this song done in one take.)
Now we’re cycling through all the Kris personalities. Singer Kris seems to be involved in a modified pole dance, so I guess he’s keeping all his career options open in case the next album tanks. Guitar Kris doesn’t care about all that, because he’s got the music in him. Piano Kris is still doing the heavy-petting with his instrument. And Flare Kris? No word. There might have been a tragic accident. Like forgetting to throw down the flare when it got to a certain point. Happens to us all.
As the numbers on the clock dwindle, we roll toward the end of the video. We now are mainly seeing Piano Kris, so I guess he got the most votes from the viewers. Singer Kris, obviously not going to win the competition, knocks over his microphone stand as the sun rises behind him. (The sun? Wow, I didn’t realize this song was so long.)
Singer Kris runs out the back of the structure and just stands there, watching the dawn break, contemplating what he’s going to do for next week’s performance. Fade out…
Better ending for the video? A giant hand reaches out of the sky and slaps the snooze button on the enormous clock thing. THAT would get people talking…
Click Here to Watch the Video on YouTube.
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