1. |
General Introduction
02:31
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None.
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2. |
Leisureland I
02:15
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Susan from marketing fancies the day out
Runs her son over outside Leisureland in her 2014 sliver Audi soft-top
just by the seafront
Blood splatted all on the paintwork
one local said must have been quite an impact
Coroner said he looked like Nickerbocker Glory, pees and gravy
oh please officer, don’t upset my bourgeois sensibility
They say this island is sinking,
on a plate of chip fat, yum
just between the cod and the ketchup.
Meanwhile I’m exercising sovereignty over my Sunday lunch
slicing dividing lines in my mash potatoes, with a generous application of salt
A stellar running commentary by Krishnan Guru Murphy mixes with my rumbling gut
Oh I think it’s probably time to leave the city for good
Middle-class convenience, oh it’s been really good to me but
it’s caused this creative clot
Thick as double cream clogging up my bloodstream
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3. |
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20th Century Eulogy
At the 20th century Eulogy
gospel for the unreconciled
a thousand faces contorted
into a million shapes and forms
mouths wide and eyes wild
a man turns eyes swirling
in his sockets
and in the thronging mass of people
new millennia’s disaffected child
waits and weeps
If I went to Virginia Woolf’s house I bet all they’d only talk about the curtains
and the pretty assortment of painted roses and geraniums in the garden
Well if it’s good enough for romantics, why not for us?
You can’t talk about ___________ or the bane of being middle-class.
All hail the cult of 20th century artistic impossibility
All hail the cult of,
John Lennon
and Paul McCartney
and Allen Ginsberg
Pablo Picasso
John Cage
Mark E Smith
David Jones
Frank O’hara
Igor Stravinsky
George Orwell
and James Joyce
Anthony Burgess
Alfred Hitchcock
and, um.
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4. |
Oh Mr. Goldfinger
05:19
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Oh Mr. Goldfinger
an odd kind of man
rested with his chin on
his palm
lips pressed hard together
on leathered skin
The moon was an invasive
cyclops eye that batted
prying from smoky grey lids
1234
Oh Mr. Goldfinger
saw a liver and lungs
and pumping heart
beating hard through
24 well arranged ribs
and its offbeat pulse
and fluttering
syncopated blips
did nothing to deter
his flesh hungry eyes
and his sycophants stare
Choices in a vacuum
All the men got your back
Oh god I’m so liberal
Oh god I’m so liberal
Didn’t I say I really value your body?
really value friendship
really value your work ethic
Oh god I’m so liberal
Oh god I’m so liberal
How’s about after work drinks
I swear I’m younger than you think
Oh god I’m so liberal
Oh god I’m so liberal
I bet 20th Century men get hot from you screaming
Lathered in gold, who cares if you’re breathing?
Oh Mr. Goldfinger blow us a kiss
You’re the man that we miss
Oh Mr. Goldfinger you’re the kind of man I want to be
I’m so sick and tired of this century.
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5. |
Dopamine/Joyland
03:19
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Jason got a Hadacol miracle
plastic paternity and immaculate birth control
Oh natural world, your efficiency is the envy
of any good HR department
But all this seems to have cost him
a vast amount of fundamental self-worth
So take me away to a place with Dopamine
and pretty faces that smile when you scream
and flying cars speeding past you by
and skyscrapers that claw against the sky
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6. |
Leisureland II
02:53
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The man on the seafront said
modern discourse makes me nauseous
All these whipped cotton caricatures
the young clearly deplore us
The sugar foam and fizz of British living must have done the trick
Oh divine sceptic
Oh beloved cultural critic
Come forth with your good-looks and wit
are you still working out why the rhetoric won’t stick
Sélavy Anne-Marie Waters
Sélavy The Lepens
Sélavy Mr. Salvini
Don’t let them pretend
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7. |
Goodbye, Ethel Rosenberg
06:50
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I look straight into the eyes of Ethel Rosenberg
Oh never more alive
With a smile that curls
with teeth that glow
no manic eyes
quite calm, composed
air hangs in shrouds
gently sucked into black hole eyes
life trapped in the space
between 50 odd stars
that glitter in the light
that descends from McCarthy’s eyes
Communists in America
In New York and California
and Vermont
in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
Probably love their neighbours
but then again must definitely want them dead
I look straight into the eyes of Ethel Rosenberg
Oh never more alive
free of guilt, free of mind
a traitor by the states design
10,000 volts scream down limbs and shake the ground like violent earth tremors
and eyes bulge and burst down rosy cheeks and spill all over
and the joy on the face of less noble americans is difficult to conceal
rage is tangible
and Ethel sits shaking and the pain is beyond conceivable
they said this would get death done fastest
Oh Ethel Rosenberg, I forgot you were a martyr
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The Hiroshi Ishiguro Rogue Android Collective London, UK
Post Punk Trio from SE London
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