Far too much of what I know of London comes from Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine lyrics. It’s been odd listening to them and flicking over to Twitter to read of riots in the capital. I don’t know where all these places are, absolutely or in relation to each other, and, apart from Croydon, I haven’t been to any of them. So I don’t know how big the riots are and how dangerous they are.
Anyone I know in London- hell, anyone in London- I hope you’re safe.
I walked from my baby’s Brixton flat
Into a riot
I thought of maybe turning back
Till things were quiet
When all the buildings to be burned
Had been burned
And all the cars to overturn
Were overturned
Outside the prison they were screen testing the free
Open auditions for closed circuit T.V.
Your baby brother would be there outside the jail
Throwing bottles as the police sirens wailed
And a love song might not be suitable
But you look beautiful tonight
Death and disaster only make me love you more
The morning after the night that went before
When the brains of Brixton with conflicting points of views
Are outside The Ritzy on the local TV news
A love song might not be suitable
But you look beautiful tonight
And if you feel the same way as I feel
Everything will be alright
I was thinking,
Let’s forget about the car
And do some late night drinking
In a late night drinking bar
It isn’t far, well it’s my local anyway
I know the barman
And there’s a small vocal P.A.
Now the insurance man has left you with the news
That your third party fire and theft would be no use
And I know a love song isn’t suitable or right
But you look beautiful, beautiful tonight
And if you feel the same was as I feel
Everything will be alright
Tonight, Big Brother is watching you
And I am watching too
I will watch over you
Like a thunderbolt out of the blue
Something told me it was true
God created me and you
And God created Brixton too
Hallelujah!
Praise the Lord!
Tonight you can rest assured
The Father, Son, The Holy Ghost and I
Will love you more than most
Tonight
So the BBC is asking members of the public to nominate their own 8 choices for Desert Island Discs, no doubt so they can see how the tastes of we plebs differ from those of the celebrity guests. It seems like the perfect excuse to list my choices here as well. In no particular order beyond as I think of them, here are mine-
1994 belonged to Oasis but, though I do have a soft spot for the mono-browed brothers, it should have been Echobelly’s year. Better songs, more interesting sound and vastly more attractive and interesting singer. I Can’t Imagine The World Without Me is a perfect piece of ego and joy, it can’t fail to make me happy.
I could have chosen the raw blast of Joe, my introduction to the band, or Sackville, which has the added interest of being about the street I used to study on. But there’s a power to this one. And apart from Sleeping Satellite, how many other pop songs have been about the lapsed glories of the space race?
I used to have After The Watershed as my Carter song because I pulled to it once and there’s something so wrong about the juxtaposition of the song’s subject and memories of getting laid. And Only Living Boy In New Cross was one of the songs which kept me going in 2001. But Say It With Flowers gave me the title to Sounds of Soldiers, and every radio show needs a plug.
I’d never actually seen this clip before. When it happened I was listening to the show on the radio. This is not a great example of Carter USM, they were made to lipsync to a backing track, were lost on the audience and were faded down early. But it does have Fruitbat’s flying tackle of Philip Schofield at the end, which almost makes up for it.
Exhibit F, the reporters said loved you to death after the watershed Between the Open University and closedown you were dead
He’s warmed your cockles with his magic tricks glasses, bottles, bottles, filter tips John Player Special Number 666
Exhibit G from the family firm his bride to be taking twisted turns To give you French kisses and Chinese burns
You see, she’d had a skinful and she couldn’t stop like a pitbull in a china shop And all the King’s social workers, the ghurkas and the cops somehow couldn’t love you back to life again now
A black eye for a black eye a chipped tooth for a chipped tooth a fraction of a half life some housework and some home truths And nothing but the home truth Nothing but the home truth Nothing but the home truth
And it’s goodbye Ruby Tuesday Come home you silly cow We’ve baked a cake and your friends are waiting and David Icke says he’d like to show us how to love you back to life again now
Goodbye Ruby Tuesday Come home you silly cow We’ve baked a cake and your friends are waiting… waiting… waiting…
AND DAVID ICKE SAYS!
goodbye Ruby Tuesday Come home you silly cow We’ve baked a cake and your friends are waiting and David Icke says Goodbye, you silly cow Come home come home come home come home
A black eye for a black eye a chipped tooth for a chipped tooth a fraction of a half life some housework and some home truths And nothing but the home truth Nothing but the home truth Nothing but the home truth
It’s like Saint Valentine’s Day at the sugar candy store where the barman lays on the bloodstained floor with all the wines and the cocktails he won’t be serving anymore to the swingers and the roustabouts and the carnivore queen who’s looking for the 3 scrooges who are nowhere to be seen and life’s just a bowl of cherries for the fruit machine THE TAKING OF PECKHAM 1 . . 2 . . 3 . . 1 . . 2 . . 3 . . Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest they robbed him blind, then dumb. and then deaf and they left him there bleeding on the pavement to die and he went to that great high-rise block in the sky And the hands that do the dishes feel as soft as your face then they rob you of your pension and they ransack your place still, you try to forgive like the Babby Jesus did though it’s so hard to be a saint in the flats where you live And you’ll live there forever and the day that you die when you’ll go to that great high-rise block in the sky and you’ll meet the Babby Jesus so you ll know you’re in Heaven and you’ll get back the years that you gave in the taking of Peckham
The Taking of Peckham 123 by Carter USM from 101 Damnations
Panic on the streets of London Panic on the streets of Birmingham I wonder to myself Could life ever be sane again ? The Leeds side-streets that you slip down I wonder to myself Hopes may rise on the Grasmere But Honey Pie, you’re not safe here So you run down To the safety of the town But there’s Panic on the streets of Carlisle Dublin, Dundee, Humberside I wonder to myself
Burn down the disco Hang the blessed DJ Because the music that they constantly play IT SAYS NOTHING TO ME ABOUT MY LIFE Hang the blessed DJ Because the music they constantly play
On the Leeds side-streets that you slip down Provincial towns you jog ’round Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ HANG THE DJ, HANG THE DJ, HANG THE DJ HANG THE DJ, HANG THE DJ HANG THE DJ, HANG THE DJ Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ HANG THE DJ, HANG THE DJ HANG THE DJ, HANG THE DJ Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ HANG THE DJ, HANG THE DJ HANG THE DJ, HANG THE DJ Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ HANG THE DJ
This is the song that donated the title for Sounds of Soldiers. There are too many books that aren’t very good that take their titles from the Bible or works of great literature. I’ve always wanted to write something better than a Tom Clancy (I’d say better than Dan Brown, but that would be aiming low) then take the title from something supposedly low brow like the indie music I love.
The Christmas cards and greetings are arriving
Across the shifty sands to the war
by the time I get to read them she’ll be rising
To a 50/50 chance and nothing more
Through the sleet and drizzle
You can hear the sounds of soldiers
The Kalashnikov and splutter
On a sunny day
From the east of the middle
To the north and south of nowhere
People earn their bread and butter
In some funny ways
CHORUS
Meanwhile…
In the corridors of power
Where the talks are in full swing
If you can’t say it with flowers
Then don’t say anything
Because I want to see my children
Grow up into healthy human beings
I want to see them walking, running
Playing, laughing and singing
CHORUS
I’m just outside the home
of Christmas now
And I’m dying
All across the shifty sands there’s blood and guts
By the time I get to Jesus she’ll still be crying
I guess a 50/50 chance wasn’t good enough
“When you’re young you can eat what you like, drink what you like and still fit into your twenty six inch waist trousers…Then you reach that age 24, 25… your muscles give up, they wave a little white flag – and without any warning at all you are suddenly a FAT BASTARD!”
I have copies of all the songs on You Fat Bastard, the soon to be released Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine retrospective. But I might be tempted to pick it up for better quality versions of some of the songs.
I couldn’t find Surfin’ USM on YouTube, so here’s The Only Living Boy in New Cross-
And After The Watershed-
I remember pulling to After The Watershed, which seems a little wrong when you think about it.
The Christmas cards and greetings are arriving across the shifty sands to the war By the time I get to read them she’ll be rising to a 50/50 chance and nothing more
Through the sleet and drizzle you can hear the sounds of soldiers The Kalashnikov and splutter on a sunny day From the East of middle to the North and South of nowhere People earn their bread and butter in some funny ways
Meanwhile . . In the corridors of power where the talks are in full swing if you can’t say it with flowers then don’t say anything
Because I want to see my children grow up into healthy human beings I want to see them walking, running. playing, laughing and singing
In the corridors of power where the talks are in full swing if you can’t say it with flowers then don’t say anything
I’m just outside the home of Christmas now and I’m dying A across the shifty sands there’s blood and guts By the time I get to Jesus she’ll still be crying I guess a 50/50 chance wasn’t good enough
We had one for sorrow, two for joy Three for his old girl and four for the boys Five for silver and six for gold Then we lose control So we leave his keys behind the bar Because he’s too drunk to drive his car We’re on the backseat of this taxi And I don’t know where the hell we are Re-Educating Rita – Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine
Call me old fashioned But I’m a little nervous about the future I’ve got no enthusiasm For burgers or computers Televisions bores me now In a hundred different ways And the police are getting younger Getting younger every day
Following on from Monday’s post about the top ten funeral songs, I thought it would be worth drawing up a list of alternative funeral songs. Leave your own suggestions in the comments and I’ll add them to the list.
Life is Grand – Camper Van Beethoven After an album of songs about death and drugs the Beethovens turn around and say, “The hell with you miserable bastards, we quite enjoy life.”
The Only Living Boy in New Cross – Carter USM You can never be sure with Carter, they hide some dark subjects under their pop-punk. This song seems to be about the pressures of touring and I adopted it as the theme tune to a hellish period on the road in 2001. In keeping with the memorial theme it does have a dedication-
Goodbye Rudy, David and Rosie Abraham and Julianne and everyone that knows me
The gypsies, the travellers and the thieves The good, the bad, the average and unique The grebos the crusties and you and I
Well I hope I make more money than this in the next world. I hope there’s a lot more in it there for me. I’d like my trousers pressed and my shoes shined up by a rich girl, who’s only care in the world is me.
, and every radio show needs a plug.
, I’m not mercenary, it really is an excellent song.
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