1. |
Cacophony
03:27
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/// Tambourine - A worker snaps, and decides to pivot to a life of pure chaos, before eventually starting a punk band ///
I am a lineman for the country
My wants are nothing to my needs
But if you make my voice redundant
I'll start a grand cacophony
I sold my wallet for a cocktail
For raising hell in gay paris
Came to mid-swordfight with a poet
Months lost in pure cacophony
I lost my mother to some aces
Hitchhiking yachts on foreign seas
She said "my son, you should've raised him!
You kids don't know cacophony!"
I made maracas out of bat skulls
I've got a polka dot goatee
You'll find me screaming "come on Soho!
Play in the grand cacophony!"
The silence is dead
Good riddance to the silence
Good riddance to the silence
We'll hear you in hell
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2. |
The Real Thing
04:07
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/// Bass - A middle-aged barfly has an attack of false nostalgia after hearing an old disco song on the jukebox ///
Oh Mersey
Another birthday down the hatch
The old jukebox
Playing zeroes of the past
Disco died
And I was never on it's side
But this awful song
Now I love it so much I could cry
I watch the vinyl spin
Through the mist of my pink gin
When I hear the record sing
Could it be the real thing?
I'm not leaving
This ceiling saw me at my peak
I'll never
Peel this coaster off my cheek
Those days were cruel
You can feel it here in every molecule
It's agony
But I will let myself be fooled
And after all this time
Shouldn't dancing cross my mind?
When I hear the record sing
Could it be the real thing?
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3. |
Clair De Lune 2
03:58
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/// Keyboards - A classically-trained radical believes the universal appeal of Clair De Lune could whip the population into a revolutionary frenzy ///
The riot at the rite
It keeps me up at night
Just imagine if all Paris could've heard it
Well I wanna buckle knees
Beyond the viennese
Mass hysteria with a real fortissimo
We can't do this alone
Join the band, feel the drone
The madness in the air
That resonates your bones
Batons are waving
My sleeper agents
And clouded up with rage
We'll storm the global stage
With ambitions of militas in the millions
I play the master key
A universal guarantee
You're a pugilist once the movement gets a-going
We can't do this alone
Join the band, feel the drone
The madness in the air
That resonates your bones
Batons are waving
My sleeper agents
What a sound, what a tune!
Clair de lune, clair de lune!
We can't do this alone
Join the band, feel the drone
The madness in the air
That resonates your bones
Batons are waving
My sleeper agents
What a sound, what a tune!
Clair de lune, clair de lune!
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4. |
One Fine Specimen
03:58
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/// Theremin - An eccentric is desperate to be abducted by aliens, so as to validate their own uniqueness ///
What does it take to be taken away
Beyond the earthly body?
What in this crowd of a million men
Could make a worthy study?
Lightyears away
Do you watch the way I frolic?
My neon face
Silk suit and baby's bonnet
Single me out
Cause I'll wait, I will wait
You'll take me!
I won't let anybody mistake me
For just some anybody
One fine specimen is waiting for you
One fine specimen is waiting for you
Maybe the back of the planet will break
And we'll melt away inside it
Maybe they'll hear all the racket we make
Long after we go quiet
I'm standing out
Out in an open field
Moon under cloud
My tattooed eyes are peeled
It's raining tonight
I'm awake, still awake
You'll take me!
I won't let anybody mistake me
For just some anybody
One fine specimen is waiting for you
One fine specimen is waiting for you
If I'm not the one
Why send the starlight here?
If I'm not the one
Why won't I disappear?
No, I am the one
Watch this space, watch this space
You'll take me!
I won't let anybody mistake me
For just some anybody
One fine specimen is waiting for you
One fine specimen is waiting for you
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5. |
Nobodies
05:40
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/// Lead Guitar - A manic cultist believes in creating as much artwork as possible, purely for the sake of burning it in a big bonfire ///
Well don't I feel like a piece of shit
Wrote another ballad, coulda wrote another hit
That crème de la crème, I skim it and I throw it away
Yes I'll be working til I fall apart
Turning tour-de-force's into long lost art
Diamond mining, all to find a fuel for the flame
Cause I'm a child of the entropic fire
Of making the arrangements and then murdering the choir
Reset, forget, its better than just hitting the wall
In the woods there is a place to go
With me and Alan Smithee and the family Doe
Come see a falling tree sound like nothing at all
Pile it up! Pile it up! Art shall die!
Drop your darlings with a vigilante pride!
Like a pest, kill until there's nothing left
Let it burn! Let it burn! Chain your hands!
What the firelight stains is a promised land
Where we jig, divinely silhouetted
You can dance like no-ones watching
Cause nobody is, nobody is
You can sing like no-ones listening
Cause nobody is, nobody is
You'll be fruitful in your failure
And buddy, your day will never come
And you will always be exalted
I've no doubt about it
When you burn your masterpiece
You shall be eternal, you shall be released
And seconds later, you won't remember a thing
So show me your portfolio
Don't ask me what I think cause you wouldn't wanna know
And frankly, all that matters is you handed it in
Pile it up! Pile it up! The time is now!
Who the hell is gonna care enough to wait around?
Be a hack! That's never held me back!
Let it burn! Let it burn! And let it end!
Til the only thing left to do is start again
And again, and again
You can flail like no-ones watching
Cause nobody is, nobody is
You can scream like no-ones listening
Cause nobody is, nobody is
You can cry like no-ones staring
Cause nobody is, nobody is
You can bomb like no-ones caring
Cause nobody is, nobody is
You can go like no-ones waiting
Cause nobody is, nobody is
You can wait like no-ones coming
Cause nobody is, nobody is
You'll be fruitful in your failure
And buddy your day will never come
And you will always be exalted
I've no doubt about it
You're the creator
No more waiting to see
And as long as you do it
You'll do it for nobody
And you're the destroyer
No more letting it be
And as long as you do it
You'll do it for nobody
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6. |
Low Fantasy
03:09
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/// Saxophone - In a desperate attempt to solve the world's problems, a non-believer tries to invent magic ///
There's gotta be a way to make a deal
With all that's not and never will be real
I'm not dying in this hell
For never trying to cast a spell
My necronomiconscience never yields!
A battery of candles, rocks and herbs
I'm rattling off a million magic words
Runic circles in the mud
Take my spirit, take my blood
Smoke and mirrors never saved the world
One step beyond
Impossibility
It's gonna take
Some kind of wizardry
I keep the faith
In lower fantasy
Not cause it is
But cause it has to be
There must be something more than power lines
Some summonable portalled paradise
If better is beyond belief
How can better ever be?
Well no-one better say I never tried
One step beyond
Impossibility
It's gonna take
Some kind of wizardry
I keep the faith
In lower fantasy
Not cause it is
But cause it has to be
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7. |
The Puppet Waltz
04:52
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/// Vocals - A recluse finds personal expression by becoming a ventriloquist punk singer who performs through a hand puppet ///
I shut up for good
I just couldn't find room in the sound
And my skin it turned sickly and sallow
And my throat was closing down
But you called to me
And I felt the relief of a plan
Well no noise can drown out a gesture
They'll be talking to the hand
Turn the spotlight so
I am not what this show is about
Singing a hymn through a puppet
Watch, I barely move my mouth
You speak my mind, you speak my mind
And I will be famous and not even there
You speak my mind, you speak my mind
And I will be famous, I'm not anywhere
Still it kills me, it kills me
The traffic, the aircon, the laughing upstairs
I can hear myself think but it's nothing
There is nothing left to share
But my friend is a gossip
My friend's a gazette
My friend's an eccentric you won't soon forget
My friend's an impression
Much moreso than I
I'm nothing without a friend to speak my mind
You speak my mind, you speak my mind
And I will be famous and not even there
You speak my mind, you speak my mind
And I will be famous, I'm not anywhere
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8. |
Last Living Kennedy
07:29
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/// Drums - An unsuccessful veteran of the punk scene has a crisis of faith, and considers giving up and selling out ///
I've played a million different shows in a million different bands
I was there the day the Pistols hit the stage
I've been spat on in Berlin, I think my tooth's still in DC
And I've turned down a lot of money along the way
Now I'm phoning up the council
Negotiating fines that I can't pay
Everyone I knew has given up or given in
I'm the oldest in the room by twenty years
But one second of New Rose and I knew I'd die behind the kit
I just thought there'd be a few more people here
That's what devotion gets you
Staying long enough to see it disappear
The van has started leaking, the coffee tastes like wood
And the pop song on the radio has started sounding pretty good
Well blazing a trail is burning me out
Been chasing my tail and running my mouth off
I've never met a machine I won't rage
But can't pay the rent, you don't get the change
Cause maybe the fight has always been lost
You sign on the line, whatever it costs you
But we still play dumb, we don't take the deal
We beat on the drum and we don't lose the feeling
Well I guess I feel the same, just my catharsis never came
Cause resignation's only anger growing old
Today I almost said "I think that punk is finally dead"
While packing up the merch we never sold
And I dreamed of having gardens
Where I'd never know the things I'm never told
No-one came to see us, we've ended in the red
And all the things I'm proud of, I'm starting to regret
Well blazing a trail is burning me out
Been chasing my tail and running my mouth off
I've never met a machine I won't rage
But can't pay the rent, you don't get the change
Cause maybe the fight has always been lost
You sign on the line, whatever it costs you
But we still play dumb, we don't take the deal
We beat on the drum and we don't lose the feeling
Sleep on a couch, not in a van
Play for the house then flip off the landlord
Welcome the shy, give them a home
Polish the shrine to Mackaye and Picciotto
Join in the crowd, hold up your fists
Don't be so proud and listen to disco
Try to survive, then die on the stage
Don't be a stranger, don't be a stranger
Share your tape
So the last living kennedy
Has sold his soul to melody
Has sold his soul to melody, my friends
But the last living kennedy's
Not sleeping with his enemies
Not sleeping with his enemies again
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Gumshoes Birmingham, UK
Homespun indie pop about eccentrics, losers and fools.
Project of Sam Sparks. Please email me!
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