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Blood And Chocolate
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TBD |
THE BAND:
Elvis Costello - Guitar
Steve Nieve - Piano and Keyboards
Pete Thomas - Drums
Bruce Thomas - Bass
Produced by Nick Lowe and Colin Fairly
Rykodisk Liner notes (For those too cheap to buy
the rerelease)
There is not an awful lot that needs explaining about this
record. It's a rock'n'roll record with a couple of
weird ballads and few pop songs thrown in. by the time we
started recording it, "King Of America" was just about
to be released, having been completed less than six months previously.
The terrible experience of The Attractrions' Hollywood sessions
was far from forgotten. There was a good chance that
this was going to be our last work together. For the
first time in five years our producer was Nick Lowe. The
engineer was Colin Fairley. He had worked with both
Nick and myself on a variety of productions. The venue
was Olympic Studios, London.
Although it was a 24-track studio I liked the arcane look
of the control room. In my memory I see Bakelite switches
and knobs although I am sure I must be romancing this. Certainly,
the recording room couldn't have looked much different wen Jimi
Hendrix or the Rolling Stones were recording there in the sixties.
The songs were extremely simple to learn. I wrote
most of them very quickly on an old 1930's Gibson Century guitar. It
had a suitably clanky sound (that's it at the beginning of "Crimes
of Paris"). When a guitar was not on hand I found the
rhythm I needed by slapping the kitchen counter as I pieced together
"Honey Are You Straight (Or Are You Blind?)" from a
very confusing dream. "Uncomplicated" was my latest
failed attempt to write a song based on one chord. We
set up in the studio as we would in rehearsals, using monitor
speakers rather than headphones. We also played a lot closer
to "stage" volume so that there was little or no separation.
If there was too much bass "spill" on the drum
mikes we simply turned down the direct bass channel. This
made for a booming, murky sound that made subtlty impossible. If
we tried anything fancy it sounded like we were playing wearing
boxing gloves. this suited most of the songs perfectly.
Nearly all of the songs were cut entirely "live."
Any vocal repairs and harmonies were dubbed on as soon as
we had called a "master take." Because of the
volatile nature of both the method and the musicians many of the
tracks were either first takes or took no more than three or four
attempts. On several cuts Nick Lowe joined us in the studio
to lay down a steady acoustic rhythm guitar track.
I played Telecaster for much of this album, giving my parts
a very harsh edge. the intro of "Uncomplicated"
will give you the idea. from then it all hangs on the
"stupid" beat that Nick suggested until we finally get
off the one chord and steve brings in the chorus. Nick also
borrowed the guitar figure and accent that drives "Honey
Are You Straight?", although it is anybody's guess where
from. We also finally got a take on "I Hope You're
Happy Now" that had a little more humour to it than its originally
murderous intent. It almost sounded like pop music.
"Tokyo Storm Warning" is a thug's nightmare travelogue
from Narita to Heysel. From Pompeii to Port Stanley,
Paris and London. It was cut on "take one." I
then added the background vocals, distorted guitar figure and
backwards solo. In case you were wondering, a "Japanese God-Jesus
Robot" is a little electric fortune-telling toy that waves
a cross to indicate whether your boyfriend or girlfriend loves
you. The first verse of "I Want You" borrows a
Japanese folk song tune and then goes somewhere very dark. As
far as I can recall we only played this once. Our "sound"
meant that no matter how quietly the band had played there still
seemed to be too much accompaniment in the last verse during playback. We
fixed this by switching off the band, track by track, until all
you can hear at the end is what was bleeding onto my vocal mike.
The final song of our first burst of recording was the tale
of a man driven mad by love, "Home is Anywhere You Hang Your
Head." The music had started out as a bright pop melody
but now I placed it in an almost impossibly low register which
made me sound as if I was either seething or gasping for breath. "Method
Singing," I suppose. This was backed by
a droning accompaniment and features some fine bass playing from
Bruce in the coda as accordions and spoons fly past his window.
Next come three fairly straight pop tunes rescued from the
"King Of America" sessions. "Blue Chair"
was given a treatment borrowed from the Prince songs "Manic
Monday" and "Raspberry Beret." "Crimes
of Paris" quotes my own "Suffering Face," bits
of the Kinks, Slade and slivers of "Wild Mountain Thyme."
It features Cait O'Riordan on harmony vocals. Little Willie
John's "Leave My Kitten Alone" also gets name-checked
and I'm pretty certain we recorded a version of it during these
sessions but it seems to have gone missing.
The comical tone of "Next Time Round" was overlooked
in Hollywood but provided a pretty good rave-up finale for an
album that stays mostly in the dark. In fact, there is a
hint of the California sound in the background voices and on the
subsequent "Spinning Wheel" tour (see below) we took
the song back where it belonged. Among our many concert
guests were members of The Bangles who improvised a sort of Mamas
(and Papas) vocal arrangement. The remaining two cuts
were the product of some extremem studio experiments. We
seemed unable to agree about anything to do with "Battered
Old Bird." We tried it in faster tempi, different keys
and vocal deliveries but nothing could be sustained for the entire
song. It is a very long song based on the tenants of
the house in which my family had the basement flat until he was
five years old. Of course I changed some of the details.
I was actually taught to swear in Welse by our landlady
but it doesn't rhyme. Some of the more nightmarish characters
have been distorted by time but others, like the "old maids,"
the scriptwriter who drank burgandy for breakfast and the fellow
who always kept an old plastic christmas tree in the cupboard
by the stairs in case of emergencies, were real enough. Because
the song contained those childhood memories I found it hard to
make any cuts. One night, during mixing Nick hit on the
solution. By a combination of vari-speeding and bold
editing, two seperate versions were spliced into one (a lession
learned from "Strawberry Fields Forever"). A growling
harmonium was dubbed onto the cracks and while the hybrid isn't
perfect, I'm glad we didn't simply scrap the song entirely.
"Poor Napoleon" was originally completely covered
up in the sheets of white noise and feedback that can be heard
briefly before the band's entrance. Little by little I pulled
it out in order to reveal the song in which a proud and vain character
finds his love fatally compromised. Cait has a speaking
role as the "voice of pity" and I dubbed on the instrumental
duel between Hofner bass-guitar and tambourine. My only
other unusual contribution was to add a very simple Vox Continental
part to "Honey Are You Straight?" or I should say "Vox
Kontinenta" as all of the album credits were written in Esperanto
for reasons I can no longer remember.
(Our American record company had always seemed to want us to
return to the sound that we had started out with, even though
it had been more famous than successful. When we gave
them something close to what they wanted: A pissed off thirty-two
year old, divorcee's version of "This Year's Model,"
they hated it and buried it under a stone somewhere in Utah. I
proudly walked away from the end of my columbia contract owing
them a million dollars. They had their chance and the
blew it.
In saying this it shouldn't be forgotten that my relationship
with the Attractions was now such that we were about to take an
eight year holiday from each other's company.)
The following tour, "Costello Sings Again,"
was a bold, if financially suicidal, affiar in which we played
between three and five nights in each small-city theatre presenting
a different show every evening. In various combinations
these included: an Attractions set that drew on our back catalogue,
a solo concert, a show with "...his Confederates" (James
Burton, Jerry Scheff, Jim Keltner, and Mitchell Froom) featuring
material from "King Of America," another Attractions
set debuting the "Blood and Chocolate" songs and the
"Spinning Songbook" concert.
I had often finished a long set only to be confronted with
the obvious question "why didn't you play....?" Fill
in the song of your choice. Now this seemed the perfect
sollution. Song titles would be printed on sections
of a game-show wheel and a member of the audience would be invited
to the stage by Mr. Xavier Valentine ("your guide from your
place in the stalls to your place in the stars") in order
to spin the wheel. The wheel would decide what we played
next. We included what we though were audience's favouites
but also slipped in a few unexpected choices like Tom Petty's
"American Girl," Prince's "Pop Life" and Gerry
and the Pacemakers' "Ferry Across the Mersey".
(We even tried a "Request" spot but the first time
I switched on the big red sign the entire front row was transformed
into figure-skating judges holding up neatly printed signs demanding
the most obscure songs in our catalogue).
If a song came up twice you were allowed to spin again. If
it came up three times...well...the rules got a bit vague then
and "the house" was known to lean on the wheel on a
few occasions if the hour was getting late and the wrong songs
kept coming up. Our contestants were questioned by an unpleasant
M.C. called "Napoleon Dynamite" in whose guise I was
able to leer at the young women and insult the men. We were
also joined -- "for one night only" -- by various "guest"
M.C.'s. The finest was, unquestionably, Tom Waits who had
both the animal magnetism and a lion-tamer's command to entice
and corral our most outlandish and outstanding contestants.
(Other nights were joined by members of the Chicago Bears,
Penn and Teller, Buster Poindexter and "The Princess of Italian
Pop" (or so we were told). In Rome, where the whole
enterprise took on a surreal edge, our M.C. was Roberto Bernini.
He translated my remarks with all the conviction and accuracy
of the character that he plays in the film "Down By Law").
After spinning the wheel our victims, surprisingly few of
whom were actually on drugs and attempting to take their clothes
off, were offered a choice of beverages (soft drinks only for
legal reasons) at the Society Lounge Bar or a turn in the Go-Go
cage. Our experience suggeststhat the world is full
of frustrated Go-Go Dancers.
EXTENDED PLAY
"SEVEN DAY WEEKEND": was co-written
and recorded with Jimmy Cliff for a film in which he co-starred
with Robin Williams and Peter O'Toole called "Club Paradise."
I don't suppose either the film or the song will go down
in film history. It always seemed a little odd to me
that the film's producers requested that I write a rock'n'roll
song with Jimmy Cliff. Anyway, Jimmy was a great man
and I got to play a lot of loud guitar on the record. There
are worse ways to spend a weekend.
"FORGIVE HER ANYTHING": This is
one of the very few outtakes from "Blood And Chocolate."
I re-worked it a couple of times for inclusion on later
albums but it always seemed to get lost. This very
rough version is all that remains and may well confim what I said
about "wearing boxing gloves."
"BLUE CHAIR": After the unsurprising
commercial failures of both the six minute-plus "Blood and
Chocolate" singles ("Tokyo Storm Warning" and "I
Want You"), I decided to look again at the "Blue Chair"
backing track scrapped during the "King Of America"
sessions. Truning up Mitchell Froom's organ and T-Bone
Wolk's overdubbed Telecaster part we filled out some of the space
above T-Bone and Mickey Curry's bass and drums. I then
re-cut the lead vocal and added a vocal arrangement that took
a very distant cue from Sly's "Everyday People".
"BABY'S GOT A BRAND NEW HAIRDO": This
Attractions outtake from "King Of America" snuck out
on the b-side of "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood". Groovy
title. Shame about the song. The one redeeming
moment is after the lines "She looks like Billy Boy
Arnold saying "I wish you would" when Bruce quotes the
riff.
"AMERICAN WITHOUT TEARS NO. 2 (TWILIGHT VERSION)":
This track, which was the b-side of the "Blue Chair"
single, fulfilled a small ambition. When 12" singles
had been all the rage during the mid-80's I had thought it was
a pity to simply repeat and extend the existing song. What
if there were extra verses? A continuation of the story
or even a sequel? I never actually got round to it until
this cut. The new edition of the story is told from
the perspective of the vanished husband of one of the women in
the "King Of America" version of the song.
He tries to pluck up courage to return from his South American
exile but in the end he becomes cynical and loses his nerve. Some
of the locations have also slipped in a "Twilight Zone"
way. This is alluded to in the sub-title and the electric
guitar part. The rest of the instrumentation, all of
which I played, is: acoustic six-string and bass guitars, piano,
celesta, organ, harmonica, marimba and timbale.
"A TOWN CALLED BIG NOTHING":
Is a piece that was written in America, Spain during the shooting
of Alex Cox's movie "Straight To Hell." This pastiche
of a Spaghetti Western (which, I suppose, means it was a pastiche
of a parody) starred The Pogues as a family of teetotal, non-smoking,
coffee-addicted desperados. Ah! Typecast again. The
flick also featured Joe Strummer, Ed Harris, Kathy Burke, Dick
Rude, Xander Schloss, Courtney Love and rather briefly, John Cusack,
Grace Jones and Dennis Hopper to list a few names one night recognize.
I only went along to visit Cait and found myself playing
the family butler "Hives," and toting a pump-action
shotgun. Another friend of mine came to take some on-set
photographs and quickly found himself stripped to the waist and
strapped to a wagon wheel in the noonday sun. So, I
suppose two weeks of Andalusion desert heat without a change of
costume was getting off lightly.
An instrumental version of the track "A Town Called
Big Nothing" Actually appears briefly in the film but as
it is currently out of circulation, even on video, I include the
full version here.
The narration is spoken by actor Sy Richardson, who played
one of the rival desperados in the film. The story
that he tells has nothing to do with the movie, in fact it probably
has more plot than "Straight To Hell!" On the other
hand I would not say that I wrote this with an entirely straight
face. The musicians were as follows: I played
the Spanish, electric and acousic-basss guitars. Obviously,
I did the "Big Nothing" whispers while Cait and I did
the fairground voices. Pete Thomas turned on the drum
machine and then added any tambourines and percussion. My
father, Ross MacManus played the trumpet part and did the Flamenco
clapping.
Track Listing for Rykodisk Version
All songs composed by DECLAN MACMANUS
unless noted in parenthesis.
- Uncomplicated
- I Hope You're Happy
Now (Credited to Elvis Costello)
- Tokyo Storm Warning
(Written By Declan MaManus and Cait O'Riordan)
- Home Is Anywhere You Hang
Your Head
- I Want You
- Honey Are You
Straight Or Are You Blind?
- Blue Chair
- Battered Old Bird
- Crimes of Paris
- Poor Napoleon
- Next Time Round
- Seven Day Weekend
(with Jimmy Cliff) (Written bye Elvis Costello
and Jimmy Cliff)
- Forgive Her Anything
- Blue Chair (Single Version)
- Baby's Got A
Brand New Hairdo
- American Without
Tears No. 2 (Twilight Version)
- A Town Called Big
Nothing (Really Big Nothing)
- Return To Big Nothing (unlisted track) INSTRUMENTAL
LYRICS
Uncomplicated
Blood and Chocolate
I hope you're satisfied what you have done
You think it's over now
But we've only just begun
I asked for water
And they gave me rose' wine
A horse that knows arithmetic
And a dog that tells your fortune
Chorus: It's in your eyes
Uncomplicated
I want to buy you
A big blue Diamel
Cheap white plastic shoes
That don't walk out and don't let in
I want to show you
How I love you
When you're over me
There's no-one above you
Chorus
You think it's over now
But this is only the beginning
Chorus
I Hope
You're Happy Now
He's a fine figure of a man and handsome too
With his eyes upon the secret places he'd like to undo
Still he knows who knows who and where and how
And I hope you're happy now
He's got all the things you need and some that you will never
But you make him sound like frozen food, his love will last forever
Still he know what you want and what you don't allow
And I hope you're happy now
I hope that you're happy now like you're supposed to be
And I know that this will hurt you more than it hurts me
He's acting innocent and proud still you know what he's after
Like a matador with his pork sword, while we all die of laughter
In his turquoise pajamas and motorcycle hat
I hope you're happy now because you'll soon put pay to that
I knew then what I know now I never loved you anyhow
And I hope you're happy now
Tokyo Storm
Warning
The sky fell over cheap Korean monster-movie scenery
And spilled into the reservoir of the crushed capsule hotel
Between the Disney abattoir and the chemical refinery
And I knew I was in trouble but I thought I was in hell
So you look around the tiny room and you wonder where the hell
you are
While the K.K.K. convention are all stranded in the bar
They wear hoods and carry shotguns in the main streets of Montgomery
But they're helpless here as babies 'cause they're only here on
holiday
Chorus: What do we care if the world is a joke
(Tokyo Storm Warning)
We'll give it a big kiss
We'll give it a poke
(Tokyo Storm Warning)
Death wears a big hat 'cause he's a big bloke
(Tokyo Storm Warning)
We're only living this instant
The black sand stuck beneath her feet in a warm Sorrento sunrise
A barefoot girl from Naples or was it a Barcelona hi-rise
Whistles out the tuneless theme song on a hundred cheap suggestions
And a million false seductions and all those eternal questions
Chorus
So they flew the Super-Constellation all the way from Rimini
And feasted them on fish and chips from a newspaper facsimile
Now dead Italian tourists bodies litter up the Broadway
Some people can't be told you know they have to learn the hard
way
Holidays are dirt-cheap in the Costa del Malvinas
In the Hotel Argentina they can hardly tell between us
For Teresa is a waitress though she's now known as Juanita
In a tango bar in Stanley or in Puerto Margarita
She's the sweetest and the sauciest
The loveliest and the naughtiest
She's Miss Buenos Aires in a world of lacy lingerie
Chorus
Japanese God-Jesus robots telling teenage fortunes
For all we know and all we care they might as well be Martians
They say gold paint on the palace gates comes from the teeth of
pensioners
They're so tired of shooting protest singers
That they hardly mention us
While fountains fill with second-hand perfume
And sodden trading stamps
They'll hang the bullies and the louts that dampen down the day
Chorus
We braved the cold November air and the undertaker's curses
Saying "Take me to the Folies Bergere and please don't spare
the hearses"
For he always had a dream of that revolver in your purse
How you loved him 'til you hated him and made him cry for mercy
He said "Don't ever mention my name there or talk of all
the nights you cried
We've always been like worlds apart now you're seeing two nightmares
collide"
Chorus
Home is Anywhere
You Hang Your Head
Here comes Mr. Misery
He's tearing out his hair again
He's crying over her again
He's standing in the super-market shouting at the customers
Here comes Mr. Misery
He'll never be any good with a mouth full of gold and blood
He's contemplating murder again
He must be in love
Chorus: But you know she doesn't want
But you can't seem to get it in your head
Oh and you can't sleep at night
And she haunts you when you go to bed
When you're tired of talking and you can't drink it down
So you hang around and drown instead
Home isn't where it used to be
Home is anywhere you hang your head
You hang your head
Home is anywhere
You hang your head
Home is anywhere
You hang your head
Home is anywhere you hang your head
Here comes Mr. Misery
Looking for a place for his mouth to shoot
Saying "You'd look cute in your birthday suit"
You tore him out and screwed him up
Like a bad page in a naughty picture book
They day ended as it began
As he was seconds older than the man he was this morning
And the world has wiped it's mouth since then
Or maybe it was yawning
Chorus
I Want You
Oh my baby baby I love you more than I can tell
I don't think I can live without you
And I know that I never will
Oh my baby baby I want you so it scares me to death
I can't say anymore than "I love you"
Everything else is a waste of breath
I want you
You've had your fun you don't get well no more
I want you
Your fingernails go dragging down the wall
Be careful darling you might fall
I want you
I woke up and one of us was crying
I want you
You said "Young man I do believe you're dying"
I want you
If you need a second opinion as you seem to do these days
You can look in my eyes and you can count the ways
I want you
Did you mean to tell me but seem to forget
I want you
Since when were you so generous and inarticulate
I want you
It's the stupid details that my heart is breaking for
It's the way your shoulders shake and what they're shaking for
it's knowing that he knows you now after only guessing
I want you
It's the thought of him undressing you or you undressing
I want you
He tossed some tatty compliment your way
I want you
And you were fool enough to love it when he said
"I want you"
I want you
The truth can't hurt you it's just like the dark
It scares you witless
But in time you see things clear and stark
I want you
Go on and hurt me then we'll let it drop
I want you
I'm afraid I won't know where to stop
I want you
I'm not ashamed to say I cried for you
I want you
I want to know the things you did that we do too
I want you
I want to hear he pleases you more than I do
I want you
I might as well be useless for all it means to you
I want you
Did you call his name out as he held you down
I want you
Oh no my darling not with that clown
I want you
You've had your fun you don't get well no more
I want you
No-one who wants you could want you more
I want you
Every night when I go off to bed and when I wake up
I want you
I want you
I'm going to say it again 'til I instill it
I know I'm going to feel this way until you kill it
I want you
I want you
Honey,
Are You Straight
Or Are You Blind?
Who do you see when you turn your eyes down?
Who do you see when I'm not seeing you?
The news is out all over town and all these girls
Are taking turns at being you
Chorus: Well, well, well
You'd better make up your mind
Honey, are you straight or are you blind?
She's coming in between us you know that she is
I'm not holding on to her but one of us is
My hands are in my pocket, my face is in a book
She could walk 'round naked and I wouldn't sneak a look
Chorus
Honey are you straight or are you blind?
She walked in and your eyes flew out the door
You squeezed my hand 'til the circulation ceases
She's just a doll like so many more
She's the kind of doll that you'd like to pull to pieces
Chorus
Well, well, well
You'd better make up your mind
Honey are you straight or are you blind?
Blue Chair
Now it's just you and me, my blue friend
And you say that it's you that she's thinking of
And our affair must end
But if it's you that she's thinking of
I think my broken heart might mend
Chorus: Now it's my turn to talk and your turn to think
Your turn to buy and my turn to drink
Your turn to cry and my turn to sink down in the Blue Chair
Down in the Blue Chair
Now I've made up my mind I've made my mistake
And I know that she cries for you
When she's barely awake
Well she's going to bend your mind
Well I hope it don't break
Chorus
Down in the Blue Chair
We can watch our troubles rise
Like smoke into the air
And drift up to the ceiling
Down in the Blue Chair
You can feel just like a boy or a man
And next minute you can find yourself kneeling
Down in the Blue Chair
They're boasting of loving the daylights right out of her in the
small hours
Down in the Blue Chair
You say that your love lasts forever when you know the night just
hours
ANd still I want her right now
Not any minute, hour or day
And wherever she is tonight
I want her anyway
I suppose she never said to you,
You were just in the way
Chorus
Down in the Blue Chair
Down in the blue
Blue becomes you
Down in the Blue Chair
Battered Old
Bird
The landlady's husband came up to town today
Since he left them both ten years ago to serve the ministry
The dark down road of his approach in constant rain was drenched
The tenant's boy said "How d'ya do" then swore in French
Did you teach this little child these curses on my soul
You should both be shut down in the coal-hole
That's the way to treat a child who cries out in the night
And a woman who teaches wrong from right
Chorus: He's a Battered Old Bird
And he's living up there
There's a place where time stands still
If you keep taking those little pink pills
"Hush your mouth you hypocrite"
His humour cut her deep
The tight lipped leer of judgement
That had seen her love desert her just like sleep
"Filthy words on children's lips are better, my dear spouse
Then if I were to speak my mind about this house"
Chorus
On the first floor there are two old maids
Each one wishing that the other was afraid
And next door to them is a man so mild
'Til he chopped off the head of a visitor's child
He danced upon the bonfire
Swallowed sleeping pills like dreams
With a bottle of sweet sherry that everything redeems
Chorus
And on the second floor is the Macintosh Man
He's in his overcoats more than out of them
And the typewriter's rattling all through the night
He's burgundy for breakfast tight
He says "One day I'll throw away all of my cares
And it is always Christmas in a cupboard at the top of the stairs"
Chorus
"Well here's a boy if ever there was
Who's going to do big things
That's what they all say and that's how the trouble begins
I've seen them rise and fall
Been through their big deals and smalls
He'd better have a dream that goes beyond four walls"
You think he should be sent outside playing with the traffic
When pieces of him are already scattered in the attic
Crimes Of Paris
I thought it was you and your optimist's view of the clock
And how it's always another day
Just after twelve o'clock's struck
You said "Now I only want you so I don't have to promise"
But tiny children in grown-up clothes whispered all the Crimes
of Paris
Chorus: You're not the girl next-door or a girl from France
Or the cigarette-girl in the sizzle hot-pants
All the words of love seem cruel and crass
When you're tough and transparent as armoured glass
You're everywhere girl in an everyday mess
Who'll pay for the Crimes of Paris
I heard that you fell for the "Hell or to Hammersmith Blues"
In the tiny torn up pieces of his mind he's irresistible too
Now it's hard to say now if he's only stupid or smart
When he crawled through the door
And poured out more of his creeping-Jesus heart
Chorus
And it's all here and now
She hit him with that paper-weight Eiffel Tower
And I tried to hold on to you but I don't know how
And I find it hard to swallow good advice
Like going down three times to only come up twice
She's so convenient, he's always stiff as hair-lacquer
It's hard to discover now he's in love with her
It was her way of getting her own back
You never did anything she couldn't do on her own
You're as good as your word and that's no good to her
You'd better leave that kitten alone
Chorus
Poor Napoleon
I can't lie on this bed anymore it burns my skin
You can take the truthful things you've said to me
And put them on the head of a pin
Poor Napoleon
You always look so disappointed when I take my stockings off
Don't you know the facts of life, boy
Don't you know what these things cost
She was selling stolen kisses to travelling salesmen and minstrel
singers
You put a penny in the slot
She called you her Magic Fingers
Poor Napoleon
I bet she isn't all that's advertised
I bet that isn't all she fakes
Just like that place where they take your spine
And turn it into soapflakes
so good night little school boy, you'd better learn some self
control
did you mess up your hairstyle, pour scorn in your begging bowl
Bare wires from the socket to the bed where you embraced that
girl
Did you ever think there's far too many people in the world?
One day they'll probably make a movie out of all of this
There won't even have to be a murder just a slow dissolving kiss
Next Time 'Round
As I stepped out upon the landing my heart was already
down the stairs
She's in the bedroom with that boy of hers
Though her face is creased and her eyes seem strange
There's a second-hand emotion on battered forty-five
My tears were never enough to keep that girl alive
Now she seems contrite will she make the change
Chorus: The next time 'round
The next time 'round
You'll be someone else's baby
But I'll be underground
The Next Time 'Round
Then you took two steps forward and then one step on your back
Now it's a future for me and you that I lack
You'll be the one who'll stands out in the dark
Even when you're all dressed in black
Chorus
You've got something I want now
And I've got something I can't hide
I've got too much love for you now
Have you got too much pride
Sometimes I name and number all the things you gave to me
Your elastic love, this velvet-line purgatory
You used to take the breath out of me
Now I think you'll be the death of me
Chorus
You'll be in some sputnik baby
But I'll be underground
The Next Time 'Round
Seven Day
Weekend
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.
Monday's calling you too early when you're sound asleep
Bells are ringing by your bedside and out in the street
Usually Monday's long enough, but this is just the start
Tuesday's just the same as Monday without the surprising part
Wednesday's point of no return
When you've squandered all you've earned
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, seven day weekend. (x2)
This is all I'm thinking about as the days go by
Spend your life on holiday and even when I die
There could be but one inscription: "This was not his day"
If it isn't Thursday anymore, it must be Friday
I can't wait until I maybe
Get off work and see my baby
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, seven day weekend. (x2)
I can't wait until I maybe
Get off work and see my baby
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, seven day weekend. (x8)
Forgive
Her Anything
(Written by Elvis Costello, Transcribed by Craig Ciccone
w/ Bolan's Corrections)
Oh, a TV went off like three day old milk
That shook this town down better than most
And it always was less of idea and more of a boast
Oh, you're burning in the bloom of life
'Til you're powder in the grave
Or you're pounding in the counter beggin' for more
'Til you evaporate
You'd forgive her anything
If you look like you, my pretty Miss
I wonder where you are tonight
And this place becomes pityless
Oh, I couldn't sleep, but I can't complain
Oh, this won't hurt a bit, oh, this won't hurt again
When the roof comes down and the walls move in
Oh, he didn't know it could feel like that
And your face turned away and the day turned black
And the rain fell like a curtain
Oh, it's my turn to begin
To forgive her anything
You'd forgive her anything
If you knew what I know
You'd forgive her anything
So where did all my pride go?
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, you'd forgive her anything
If you knew what I know
You'd forgive her anything
So where did all my pride go?
Baby's
Got A Brand New Hairdo
Baby's got a brand-new hairdo, and doesn't she look so
nice?
She said everything that she cares to, she said it not once but
twice
She said it doesn't matter unless it's her matters
Well, I don't care 'bout all
The girl that used to love it, and the girl I still hate
Baby's got a brand-new hairdo, and doesn't she look so fine?
She said everything that she used to,
Except she's picking your heart, not mine
She said "it doesn't matter unless I say it matters"
She said pretty pink things on silver platters
I don't care about all the moms and dads
The girl that used to love it, and girl I still hate
She's the girl that used to love it, and the girl I still hate
Baby's got a brand-new hairdo, and doesn't she look so good?
She looks like Jennifer Harlow, said I wish you would
I wish you would
Baby's got a brand new hairdo , I wonder what's left inside
She used to meet me at The Mens room, before she learned how to
be snide
She walks in the place and everybody scatters
I don't care about all the martin dress
She's the girl who used to love it and the girl I used to hate
She's the...
American
Without Tears #2
(Twilight Version)
December 1965 in Caracas
When Arnie LaFlem took a piece of the pie
When he packed up the casino chips, the IOU and the abacus
And switched off the jukebox in a "A Fool Such as I"
He was a leg man who was open to offers
But he couldn't get her off his mind as he passed the tourist
office
and as he entertained himself singing just like Sammy Davis Junior
He toyed with her trip to Miami
For money like that
he could have sweet talk in her ear
Now they don't speak any English
Just American without tears
It was an idea that he dangled on his knee
and nursed it like his coffee cup
when he couldn't find any other way
It always seemed to come to him
while the day was dipping down
and sun was like a lightbulb
being swallowed by a clown
He took her for everything
He took her for his only one
He took her out of coventry and over to Idaho
But the war wound that he carried home
wasn't really visable
When bullets were forgotton
she lived dowdry, down, and miserable
And she seemed to be crying for year after year
and says, "You don't speak any English
Just American between tears."
"Honey" she said to me "Will you turn down the
radio.
You haven't slept a wink since we came to Havana
When you're gonna get the strength to go over to Florida
All you ever listen to is 'The Voice of America'."
It was the story of a young English puppet
Who took up with a soldier boy
and thought she would profit.
Just like me she found out what true love is about
Anyway she's in New Orleans it would never work out
Oh she seemed to be crying for year after year
Now you don't speak any English
Just American between tears.
Just American without tears.
For you seem to be crying year after year
Now you don't speak any English
Just American without tears.
Just American without tears.
A
Town Called Big Nothing
(Really Big Nothing)
Big nothing.
He stood in the road outside of town with a broken clockwork toy
in
his hand: A graveyard for childish dreams in his palm; a broken
lifeline.
Big nothing.
The mechanical amusement sputtered in his fist. As he clenched,
it
whirred and died again. It was a cowboy who drew his gun, but
the
pistol was welded to the holster by age and careless children,
so it
struggled and strained and it unwound his own spring.
Big nothing.
He didn't need tattoos to show where he had been and who he had
loved. It
was the same thing that men had cried for; that women had dyed
their hair
for. The cellophane illusion of a starry sky stretched over an
open sore.
Big nothing.
He thought about his lost daughter: the way her eyes would alight
at the
greedy circus barker's blackmail song; how he wanted to smash
her skull
when she parroted back, 'tell mommy; tell poppy; you need this
little
dolly.'
Big nothing. (x2)
The smoky voice of the petaled girl woke him long enough. There
was too
much light in the room, so he unscrewed the bulb. She took him
to bed like
an adopted dog.
Big nothing.
She lit sickly incense, as he tried to tell if the resemblance
was pure
and coincidental. He unleashed his grip on the toy, all it meant
to him,
and it wound down forever.
Big nothing.
He woke up in a sweat. The next day, with her smile still painted
on his
mouth, he walked out of a town called Big Nothing.
Big nothing. (repeat until fade)
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