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Instrument Credits
Elvis Costello: Epiphone, Gretsch and Fender guitars, 'one-finger'
Synclaviar and Casiotone
Steve Nieve: Bosendorfer Piano, Emulator, Fairlight CMI, Vox Organ,
Hammond Organ, Synclavier
Bruce Thomas: Electric Wal bass guitar
Pete Thomas: Gretsch drums, Sabian cymbals
The TKO Horns:
Jim Paterson - Trombone
Jeff Blythe - Alto Sax, baritone sax, clarinet
Paul Speare - tenor sax, flute
Dave Plews - Trumpet
Stuart Robson: Trumpet and flugelhorn on "The World and his Wife"
Caron Wheeler and Claudia Fontaine (Afrodiziak): Backing Vocals
Chet Baker: Trumpet solo on "Shipbuilding"
David Bedford: String arrangements
Morris Pert: Percussion
"Punch The Clock" was our chance to get reacquained with the wonderful world of pop music and still maintain a sense of humour. After Nashville and the labyrinth of "Imperial Bedroom" I was ready to find a different production approach.
Clive Langer and Alan Winstanley certainly knew where the chart were but they also made great records. They had produced hits for The Teardrop Explodes, Dexy's Midnight Runners and Madness. In fact I first met Clive as a fellow producer for Two-Tone Records. By the time I had finished The Specials' debut album Clive and Alan had moved with Madness to Stiff Records where the cut some of the best pop singles since the finest days of the Kinks.
Despite making the most "English" music on the planet "Clanger and Winstanley" even managed to get Madness to No. 1 in America with "Our House". By 1983 they were pretty irresistible and unstoppable. (Clive was also an excellent songwriter. "Clive Langer and the Boxes" opened for us on the "Get Happy" tour of seaside towns and out of the way places. I produced a version of Amen Corner's "If Paradise Is Half As Nice" for his "Splash" album on F-Beat. Alan, the quiet and patient one of the team, also had some pretty mean credits to his name including engineering The Buzzcocks' best records.)
They favoured the "building-block" method of recording: retaining very little from the original "live" take (often only the drums) and tailoring each instrumental overdub to best serve the arrangement. This system naturally precluded the spontaneity of our past "happy accidents" but could yield startling results when the last piece was in place.
Now to be honest I haven't always been kind about this album. I find it hard to ignore the benefit of hindsight. However I shall try to expain how we fared amongh the passionless fads of that charmless time: "The Early 80's".
Bein in a fairly feckless frame of mind I had dashed off a couple bright pop tunes that didn't have much else to them. The chorus of "Element Within Her" consisted entirely of the immortal words: "la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la" (although I liked the silly Liverpudlian-slang joke in the last verse: "He said "Are you cold?" She said "No but you are La...la-la-la...etc.) "Everyday I Write The Book" was written in a spare ten minutes on tour as a spoof of a Mersey-beat tune. In rehearsal Clive guided us towards an arrangement that was unlike anything we had ever recorded. Although we borrowed a few touches from the r'n'b styles of the day I have witnessed, firsthand, the record's ability to clear a nightclub dance floor in seconds. Despite this it remains one of our very few entirely cheerful recordings and was even a minor hit on both sides of the Atlantic - reaching No. 28 in the U.K. and No.32 in the U.S. charts - then our best placing for a single.
The vocal responses on "Punch The Clock" were improvised by Claudia Fontain and Caron Wheeler, known at the time as "Afrodiziak". They had not appeared on that many pop recordings and their spontaneous approach was a welcome contrast to the jaded cliches demanded of other groups of "session singers". (Both went on to grace many hit records. Caron is probably best known as the lead voice on the Sould II Soul smash "Back To Life".)
The other addition to our ensemble was the horn secion led by trombonist Big Jim Paterson. He brought with him saxophonists Paul Speare and Jeff Blythe who had also recently left Dexy's Midnight Runners. So that we did not duplicate that group's sound we added trumpet player Dave Plews to the line up. (However it is true that the "T.K.O. Horns" employed something of the rude, unison sound that the "Stax" comparison was often made in the press. I was only happy if we sounded like Cliff Bennett and the Rebel Rousers on their version of "One Way Love".)
Though I scatted all the main horn refrains on my demo recordings, Clive and the players worked out a [Note: this was incorrectly done in the book, I'm doing it as exact as possible] some of the more sophisticated punches and flourishes. I soon found myself writing them into the other tunes.
("The Invisible Man" was the final resing place of lyrics which had been part of the "unreleased" songs: "25 to 12", "Seconds Of Pleasure" and "I Turn Around" - see the re-issues of "Trust" and "Imperial Bedroom". Now this song and "Let Them All Talk" - originally "beat-group" tunes - revolved around horn figures. "The Greatest Thing" even contained a reference to my Dad's years with The Joe Loss Orchestra by way of a quote from "In The Mood" - complete with Paul Speare doubling on clarinet. "The World And His Wife" was re-written from a solemn folk song about a drunken family gathering into a bilious knees-up with the horns playing their part in the scene.)
All of the above is not to suggest that I entered into the writing and recording of this record in a haphazard or lackadaisical manner. On the contrary I was still writing most of my songs at the piano and almost all of them were melancholy ballads. Clive cajoled me into picking up the guitar at least for the purpose of writing some more lively material. he argued that there was a danger in becoming known for only the most cynical and disillusioned songs of "Imperial Bedroom". I remained allergic to the happy ending but in reply I managed a pair of proud and wishful songs on Love and marriage: "The Greatest Thing" and "Let Them All Talk" and a couple about the Ugly Truth: "Mouth Almighty" and "Boxing Day".
Between 1979 and 1983 something strange happened. The British government mutated from an annoying and often disreputable body, that spent people's taxes on the wrong things, into a hostil regime contemptuous of anyone who did not serve or would not yield to it's purpose.
"Work" was transformed from a right into a priviliged reward. There were a few passionate and coherant calls to resistance (most notably Alan Bleasdale's "Boys From The Blackstuff") and I could offer little more than a puny echo and some of the crude references which litter the lesser songs. I might have tried to argue that this was all very ironic -- while fashioning a bauble and feeling for a faint pop pulse but I've always been a dunce at making up that kind of alibi. Anyway most of what I wanted to get out of my head had gone into two songs recorded before we began work on "Punch The Clock".
The phrase "Pills and Soap" was originally inspired by "The Animals Film", while the sound of the record was indebted to "The Message" by Grandmaster Flash and Melle Mel. The former was a long harrowing portrayal of man's abuse of animals as pets and exhibits, in factory farming and scientific reasearch. It didn't take much to extract that we are willing to do unto each other as we do to the animals. Beyond that it was a catalogue of the lovely times with the tabloid press just beginning to hone their skills of assasination, exploitation and phoney indignation, the country's blind, sad affair with tht lucky family in the palace and the new rank breath of jingoism.
I'd been fooling around at the piano with a piece that I told myself sounded something like something Ramsey Lewis...or Mose Allison....or Dave Brubeck might play...when I heard "The Message" ....
It was the first rap record that I had encountered that was anymore than an invitation to dance. It spoke about ugly life. It was the best and only record of it's kind that I heard since The Last Poets' "Wake Up Niggers".
I could not adopt such a vocal delivery but I wanted to set my litany to a drum machine beat. So I turned the piano part over to Steve Nieve (who could actually play it) and switched on the device....that was on a Wednesday, the acetates were cut and distributed to the press and radio the following day and the finished single was in the shops by the following Friday. A week later it appeared in the charts. (The Ability to achieve all this so quickly had everything to do with the fact that I was not, for the moment, being distributed by a major record label. "Pills and Soap", credited to The Imposter, a "Fairley/Imposter Production", appeared on the "Imp Records" - a Demon Records imprint. It was released for a limited period only and melodramatically deleted on the eve of the 1983 general election. The need to re-issue it the following day on a celebratory red vinyl 12" sadly never arose).
This seemed to alarm the BBC who feared that the lyrics might somehow contravene the rules of broadcasting "balance" during the election campaign. A senior BBC producer questioned me about the song's subject matter. I said it was about "man's abuse of animals", a strictly truthful but slippery explanation worth of a Tory cabinet minister. The producer then threatened me with banishment from the national airwaves if I should ever reveal that the song had a hidden agenda and more importantly...gloat about it...How very English.
Given the outcome of the election that I was supposed to be trying to sway and all the miserable years since I can hardly say that the episode gave me much satifaction other than to get such an unusual song to No. 16 in the charts without anyone noticing.
"Shipbuilding" started out as a piano melody composed by Clive Langer. He asked me if I could come with some words that would suit Robery Wyatt... "perhaps something to do with the hours of the clock" being the only clue. Robert had recorded a beautiful soulful version of "I'm A Believer" so I did not feel that the song had to be inspired by current events. Anyway he had a way of narrowing the distance between a simple love song and an obviously political number. Take a listen to his reading of Chic's "At Last I Am Free" and then hear his version of Victor Jara's "To Recuerdo Amanda" and you'll see what I mean.
I was leaving for an Australian tour with Clive's demo in my bag. The government was in the process of reversing their disatrous fortunes by springing to the defence of an obscure and obsolete imperial coaling station and sheep farming outcrop. In as much as you spring to the defence of The Falkland Islands when you are in the Northern Hemisphere and they are in the South Atlantic. Especially after the nincompoops in the Foreign Ministry have done everything possible to suggest to the particularly vicious junta in Argentina that their claim to "Las Malvinas" might go unchallenged if they would only care to invade...Oh what a lovely war. Except that it was never called "A War". It was always referred to as the "Falklands Crisis" and later the "Falklands Conflict". Thank god CNN wasn't what it is today or we'd have had a theme tune and a log overnight: "South Atlantic Storm: The Falkland Countdown".
By the time I reached Australia the bloody liberation was underway. I thought I'd seen it all in the British media coverage: grown men drooling over the hardware, the sick illusion of invincibility before H.M.S. Sheffield was hit by an Exocet missile, The Sun's "Gotcha" headline when 300 Argentine sailors drowned when the Belgrano went down, the construction of the odd heroic myth to cheer everyone up after a series of blunders had lead to a pointless and brutal slaughter of Welsh Guards and of course the Real star of the show: The Prime Minister arriving on our screens each day as if directly from the theatrical costumiers. Sometimesas Boadicea. Sometimes as Britannia. Oh! I nearly forgot the raving lunatic who reared up from the Tory backbenches to suggest a nuclear attack on Buenos Aires. However none of this could prepare me for the depravity of the Australian tabloid coverage. To listen to them the "Poms" were getting slaughtered Gallipoli-style and the "Argies" were eating Falkland babies.
Most of the above was beyond words but the notion that this might really drag on and become a war of attrition seemed as believable as anything else. Ships were being lost. More ships would soon be needed. So: "Welcome back the discarded men of Cammell Laird, Harland and Wolff and Swan Hunter. Boys are being lost. We need more boys. Your sons will dow...just as soon as those ships are ready."
For what it's worth this was pretty much the thinking behind the words of "Shipbuilding". That it didn't come pass was a blessing. It was always less of a protest song than a warning sign.
Clive, Alan and I co-produced Robert Wyatt's recording of "Shipbuilding". He sang it beautifully and the single reached many people in Britain. Despite being daunted by the prospect of "covering" the song I wanted to include it on "Punch The Clock" so that it would be heard by a wider audience. As Steve Nieve played the piano on Robert's version I thought we should feature a trumpet soloist on our rendition.
Truthfully my ideal was Miles Davis, though I was probably thinking of the Arabic lines of "Sketches of Spain" rather than his recent fustion records. (I had even attempted to imitate some of those figures in the background voices on both Robert's "Shipbuilding" and "Pills and Soap". this last arrangement also took a cue from parts of Joni Mitchell's album "Hissing of Summer Lawns", although my vocal delivery obviously disguises this quite well.)
If that seemed improbable then what happened next was almost miraculous. I opened the paper to find that Chet Baker was playing a hurriedly announced residency at The Canteen. I went alone to find Chet in a wonderful musical form despite the presence of several drunken bores who would loudly cal for more booze in the middle of some of his most delicate playing. You got the feeling that this happened most nights but it seemed particularly appropriate that the main culprit was said to be one of London's leading jazz critics. Between sets I introduced myself to Chet who was wandering about in the club untroubled by patrons. There is no false modesty in saying he had no idea who I was. Why the hell should he? However he accepted my invitation to come and play on the "Shipbuilding" session the next day. i mentioned a fee. He said "Scale". I think I probably doubled it.
It was a tense but rewarding session. Chet took a little time to grasp the unusual structure of the song but once he had it he played beautifully even if he looks pretty deathly in the studio photos. I'd also say it was one of The Attractions very best perfomances. At the end of the session I handed Chet a copy of "Almost Blue" a song which was modelled on his style. He ended up recording it but that's another story.
My one regret about the track is that I was tempted to put a spin echo onto a couple of Chet's phrases. I suppose I still had "Sketches of Spain" in the back of my mind. Then again at the time I didn't really understand what composer David Bedford was trying to do in the arrangement of the strings and had them rather buried in the mix. Now I'm really glad that we are all on the record.
Footnote: From then on I always went to see Chet whenever he played in London. Jazz club patrons, who'd probably never heard "Shipbuilding", looked a little startled when he picked me out in the crowd or dedicated a number. We'd have a drink and he'd say funy things about the "jazz singer" who was wowing house with less than a pink dress and little talent. however he seemed somebody that you "knew" rather than somebody you were "friends with". I even interviewed him once for a video special and sang a few numbers, including "You Don't Know What Love Is", with his trio. I think he knew I didn't want to talk about "the drugs". However, despite the fact that he once said in an magazine interview that he didn't care for that fateful echoed phrases he never raised that matter with me and I never got round to apologising. I guess you can't change history.
EXTENDED PLAY
"HEATHEN TOWN" and "FLIRTING KIND"
Both these songs should have been part of "Punch The Clock". I was still so uncertain about the running order that I even had a scheme to substitute "Heathen Town" for "Love Went Mad" after the initial vinyl pressing. It was written as an "answer" to Gram Parsons' "Sin City" with just little pinch of "Sit Down You're Rocking The Boat" (from "Guys and Dolls") thrown in. "Flirting Kind" was originally written in the same time and idiom as "Kid About It" (from "Imperial Bedroom"). There was more than a tip of the hat to Burt Bacharach in my demo. However the mania for "pace" whcih infected some of our wrong-headed choices lead to this pretty but less tragic version. Nevertheless we put quite a lot of time into the arrangement. Somehow it just doesn't really fit the song. (In contrast "King Of Thieves", a tricky tune about the trials of a blacklisted scriptwriter, benefitted from the production process. It created a bridge between the somber songs and the brash attractive noise. I woke up from a dream with the first line of the song in my head... "I had forgotten all about the "Case of the Three Pins"...I still have no idea what it means but it sounds like the beginning of a detective novel.
"WALKING ON THIN ICE"
During the "Clocking on across America" tour I recieved an invitation to meet Yoko Ono at a New York City studio. She had recently begun mixing and compiling the two albums she and John Lennon had been working on at the time of his death.
"Milk and Honey" might have been an album of rough and unfinished Lennon recordings but hearing them in a dimly lit studio with the widow, who had only recently been able to face listening to the tapes, was a very emotional experience. This was probably due to the fact that Lennon's unedited "between-takes" banter was blasting out of the control room speakers while the studio itself was in darkness. The effect was q;uite unsettling. Yoko asked me to contribute to "Every Man Loves A Woman" (the other work-in-progress album): a collection of other artist's recordings of her songs. Although I would not pretend that her records are exactly a fixture on my turntableI was happy to help complete one of her husband's last projects which one must imagine was concieve out of love.
We were to cut a version of "Walking on Thin Ice", certainly one of Yoko's strongest pieces. However our touring schedule required that we record on one of the few days when we would not be either travelling or performing. Our iterary suggested Memphis or New Orleans. Now we needed a producer. I suggested that Yoko's office might approach Willie Mitchell in Memphis or Allen Toussaint in New Orleans. After all both these producers had created unique horn-section sounds and we just happened to have one with us.
I don't know if Yoko's people ever heard back from Willie Mitchell but the next thing we knew we were at Sea-Saint Studios in New Orleans with Allen Tousaint behind the board. Pete Thomas was delighted to be in the same drum booth as used by the Meters' Ziggy Modeliste while Allen worked closely with Bruce fashioning a very original bass part and swapped keyboard ideas with Steve Nieve. Ironically the main horn frame was a quote from an obscure Willie Mitchell production: "Let The Love Bell Ring" although Allen naturally tailored the overall arrangement and phrasing to a recognisably Toussaint sound. I don't believe that horn section ever sounded better than on this recording. During our stay we too in a couple of Neville Brothers shows where I first heard drummer Willie Green who, long with Allen Toussaint, later played on the New Orleans sessions for my Warner Bros. album "Spike". As for our concert in the city...it was cancelled due to lack of ticket sales.
"TOWN WHERE TIME STOOD STILL"
The result of an experimental Eden Studios session between "Imperial Bedroom" and "Punch The Clock". Pete Thomas provided the drum loop (With my "vocal percussion") and I added the rest of the instruments. Much later I re-worked some lyrics for a song written with Ruben Blades: "The Miranda Syndrome".
"SHATTERPROOF"
This 4-track home demo is my only recording of this song. It is my unsubtle revenge on the landlord who swindled me out of my last penny when I was a twenty-one year old "newly-wed". It was laterrecorded for a solo single by Rockpile's Billy Bremner.
"THE WORLD AND HIS WIFE" and "EVERYDAY I WRITE THE BOOK"
"Live" recordings of these songs as they were originally composed.
LYRICS Let Them All Talk Hear what I say See what I do Believe me now I'm all over you All over you I know a place A CERTAIN VERY TENDER SPOT TO HAVE AND TO HOLD TO HAVE AND HAVE NOT Listening to the sad song that the radio plays Have we come this fa-fa-fa to find a soul cliche Let them talk Let them talk Let them all talk Oh yeah we're killing time Just to KEEP YOU CLOCKING ON These are the best years of your life Now they're here and gone Do the world a service And you could do yourself a favour WHOSE TONGUE NOW IS TASTING LAST WEEK'S FLAVOUR Our day will come When you have squandered all your youth To have and to hold A stranger to the truth Listening to the sad song that the radio plays Have we come this fa-fa-fa to find a soul cliche Let them talk
Everyday I Write The Book Don't tell me you don't know what love is When you're old enough to know better WHEN YOU FIND STRANGE HANDS IN YOUR SWEATER When your dreamboat turns out to be a footnote I'm a man with a mission in two or three editions And I'm giving you a longing look Everyday, everyday, everyday I write the book Chapter One we didn't really get along Chapter Two I think I fell in love with you You said you'd stand by me in the middle of Chapter Three But you were up to your old tricks in Chapters Four, Five and Six The way you walk The way you talk, and try to kiss me, and laugh In four or five paragraphs All your compliments and your cutting remarks Are captured here in my quotation marks Don't tell me you don't know the difference Between a lover and a fighter With my pen and my electric typewriter Even in a perfect world where everyone was equal I'd still own the film rights and be working on the sequel
The Greatest Thing EVERYONE STOPPED WHEN SHE WALKED INTO THE ROOM Isn't this the greatest thing Everyone own up but nobody could touch her Isn't this the greatest thing PUNCH THE CLOCK keep boxing clever You'll be young enough for ever Isn't this the greatest thing Isn't this THE GREATEST THING I heard some new confection Said we can't afford to feel affection And it's the lastest thing In and out of matrimony Never once removed the Sony 'Cos it's a status thing So girls like that above described Are not to be so easily bribed With a white frock and a ring PUNCH THE CLOCK and in time you'll get pulled apart IF YOU'RE MARRIED ON PAPER AND NOT IN YOUR HEART But I won't be told that life with the one you love is sordid Just because some authority says you can't afford it Since nights were long and days were olden Woman to man has been beholden But since then times have been changing She sends back HIS TRIBUTE OF A ROSE And says this ring is better suited for the nose He's always fingering I PUNCH THE CLOCK and it's OK I KNOW A GIRL WHO TAKES MY BREATH AWAY And it's the greatest And it's the greatest thing
The Element Within Her It's the element within her Something under her skin That is shining out through the face of the girl Two sapphires and couple of rows of pearls It's just a part of it Like your fine tresses You know what my guess is La la la la la la la la la la la He was a PLAYBOY Could charm the birds right out of the trees Now he says 'What do I do with these?' La la la la la la la la la la la This love in my heart Let no-one set asunder Sometimes I wonder La la la la la la la la la la la But back in the bedroom With her electric heater I SAY 'ARE YOU COLD?' SHE SAYS 'NO, BUT YOU ARE LA'
Love Went Mad I've looked at it every way I can From under and above And every chance I've had My love went mad Love went mad love went mad You you feel like I feel? Do you have a heart? DO YOU HAVE A HEART OF IRON AND STEEL? Are you a man now you wear a man's hat? Are you a man now or are you a rat? You go to church quiet as a mouse You're a big cheese now in the workhouse With these vulgar fractions of the treble clef I wish you luck with a capital 'F' A self-made mug is hard to break A silent partner in someone else's mistake Every day goes by without a hitch YOU FEEL THE URGE BECOMING AN ITCH The boys in blue are hard to catch They're busy turning Piccadilly Into Brands Hatch But with your fingers in your ears Feeling bright as a button Thinking 'THANK GOD THERE'LL BE NO MORE LAMB DRESSED AS MUTTON' Playing family favourites on a tissue and a comb DYING A THOUSAND DEATHS IN THE SAFETY OF YOUR OWN HOME
Shipbuilding Is it worth it A new winter coat and shoes for the wife And a bicycle on the boy's birthday It's just a rumour that was spread around town By the women and children Soon we'll be shipbuilding Well I ask you The boy said 'DAD THEY'RE GOING TO TAKE ME TO TASK BUT I'LL BE BACK BY CHRISTMAS' It's just a rumour that was spread around town Somebody said that someone got filled in For saying that people get killed in The result of this shipbuilding With all the will in the world Diving for dear life When we could be diving for pearls It's just a rumour that was spread around town A telegram or a picture postcard Within weeks they'll be re-opening the shipyards And notifying the next of kin Once again It's all we're skilled in We will be shipbuilding WITH ALL THE WILL IN THE WORLD DIVING FOR DEAR LIFE WHEN WE COULD BE DIVING FOR PEARLS
TKO (Boxing Day) You can run all you like from the classroom or the cot From a great big man or a tiny tot But from this day everyday will be BOXING DAY Don't need your indecision let there be no doubt Don't need you permission I can count you out TKO They put the numb into number they put the cut into cutie They put the slum into slumber and the boot into beauty But from this day everyday will be BOXING DAY It's a fight to the finish let there be no doubt As the seconds turn into minutes I can count you out TKO You need a back to break or a back to stab NOW YOUR BIRTHDAY SUIT LOOKS DULL AND DRAB But from this day everyday will be BOXING DAY NOW YOU DON'T LOOK SO GLAMOROUS WHENEVER I FEEL SO AMOROUS I CAN COUNT YOU OUT TKO
Charm School Men made out of monkeys Men made into mice Happy days are here again And all the drinks half price A girl with a trick and a man with a calling Trying to make a living out of your downfalling TRYING TO MAKE A LIVING out of anything at all Didn't they teach you anything except how to be cruel In that charm school You and I as lovers Were nothing but a farce TRYING TO MAKE A SILK PURSE OUT OF A SOW'S ARSE Saying 'Why don't you watch me' Hardly speaking SOTTO VOCE I've got a notion I've got an angle Take your dreams and promises And put them through the mangle They say it's hell to finance too And I just want to romance you In this perpetual nightclub I'll be yours eternal Though the hours are long And the noise infernal JUST ONE SHAMEFUL ACT OR SOMETIMES TWO WE MAKE BELIEVE WE'RE MAKING DO
The Invisible Man I WAS COMMITTED TO LIFE AND THEN COMMUTED TO THE OUTSKIRTS With all the love in the world Living for thirty minutes at a time with a break in the middle for adverts But it's a wonderful world within these cinema walls WHERE A SHOWER OF AFFECTION BECOMES NIAGARA FALLS And you wish she could step down from the screen to your seat in the stalls BUT IF STARS ARE ONLY PAINTED ON THE CEILING ABOVE Then who can you turn to and who do you love I want to get out while I still can I want to be like Harry Houdini Now I'm the invisible man My head is spinning round faster and faster Here I stand on the edge of disaster I'm shattered like a piece of crystal porcelain or alabaster Crowds surround loudspeakers hanging from the lampposts Listening to the murder mystery Meanwhile someone's hiding in the classroom Forging books of history NEVER MIND THERE'S A GOOD FILM SHOWING TONIGHT WHERE THEY HANG EVERYONE EVERYBODY WHO CAN READ AND WRITE OH THAT COULD NEVER HAPPEN HERE BUT THEN AGAIN IT MIGHT
Mouth Almighty This town belongs to you and your tricks of confidence All the pavements for miles around are littered with your footprints Now every girl I get close to seems to be wearing your perfume And the clock strikes the letters of your name Both midnight and noon But I used to shoot my mouth off Till you'd had enough of me Once or twice nightly I know I've got my faults And among them I CAN'T CONTROL MY TONGUE But if you didn't believe me Why did you have to leave me With my mouth almighty Mouth almighty that's what I've got Mouth almighty telling you what's what Mouth almighty I wish I'd never opened my mouth almighty SO I THREW AWAY THE ROSE AND HELD ONTO THE THORN Crawling round with my crooner cufflinks and my calling card cologne But the realization of being replaced starts to tell tales across my face Without a soul to talk to or a hair out of place
King Of Thieves I had forgotten all about 'The Case Of The Three Pins' THEY SAID I MUST BE CRACKED Until the brown paper parcel landed on my welcome mat Even the pretty secretaries who wouldn't even Let me HANG MY HAT All recognize my handwriting And return to sender as a matter of fact If I were you I'd change my name again They don't care what they do to you believe me This is the coronation of the King of Thieves His occupation is the King of Thieves He can steal more than you can save You can take him on, but you're not that brave I'll tell your fortune in a minute or two I might even tell you what comes next The moguls want a HUMAN SACRIFICE AND LOOK AT THAT GIRL, YOUNG HUNGRY AND PERPLEXED They took away the best years of her life Ah but it's all in good fun And if you kept you nose clean You can laugh now at the caring things they've done I'll write this story down, but you'll never guess the Final twist Blow the whistle on the whole design As they find my name on that fatal mailing list I hear the clatter of a typewriter Another rookie eating up the reams I think it's time to place my feet under the desk And PUT MY MARK ON ANOTHER MAN'S DREAMS This is the coronation of the King of Thieves And look at that girl Look at that girl LOOK AT THAT GIRL
Pills And Soap They talked to the sister, the father and the mother With a microphone in one hand and a chequebook in the other AND THE CAMERA NOSES IN TO THE TEARS ON HER FACE The tears on her face The tears on her face You can put them back together with your paper and paste But you can't put them back together You can't put them back together What would you say? What would you do? Children and animals two by two Give me the needle Give me the rope We're going to melt them down for PILLS AND SOAP Give me the needle Give me the rope We're going to melt them down for pills and soap Four and twenty crowbars, jemmy your desire Out of the frying pan into the fire The king is in the counting house Some folk have all the luck And all we get are pictures of LORD AND LADY MUCK They come from lovely people with a hard line in hypocrisy THERE ARE ASHTRAYS OF EMOTION FOR THE FAG ENDS OF THE ARISTOCRACY The sugar coated pill is getting bitterer still YOU THINK YOUR COUNTRY NEEDS YOU BUT YOU KNOW IT NEVER WILL So pack up your troubles in a stolen handbag DON'T DILLY DALLY BOYS RALLY ROUND THE FLAG Give us your daily bread in individual slices And something in the daily rag to cancel any crisis
The World And His Wife The family circle gather round from very far and near To pass around the same remarks they passed away last year The little girl you dangle on your knee without mishap STIRS SOMETHING IN YOUR MEMORY AND SOMETHING IN YOUR LAP But it's a living This is the life For the world and his wife The world and his wife The kissing cousins slip outside to cuddle and confess She says sweet nothing at all it's much more of a mess The conversation melts like chocolate down their open jaws As the juniper berry slips down just like last night's drawers To tell the truth our Mum ran off with someone else's father WENT FOR TWO WEEKS' HOLIDAY IN TARAMASALATA Daddy went out with the rubbish and he kept on walking Between Mum and the walls God only knows who does the talking But later on in the evening through the tears and fol de rol Come the sentimental feelings for the lure of vitriol Longing thoughts go hankering for the old home overseas WITH A BLINDFOLD AND A NATIONAL ANTHEM SUNG IN DIFFERENT KEYS
Heathen Town We used to call it Sin City now it's gone way past that. Painting the town and then burning it down. And even that's old hat. Now there' a choir of angles and the fall of Rome singing "Ave Maria" or "Home Sweet Home" Chorus: It's just a heathen town I hear only evil as my tongue is tightened. I used to be god-fearing now I'm so frightened 'cause the devil will drag you under by the sharp tailfin of your checquered cab (?) Now I can't sit down, I'm going overboard in this heathen town. Starts as an a flirtation and ends up as an expensive habit. With one eye on her place (??) and that's his prison And the other on a girl dressed as a rabbit. Now you can live forever in your fits and starts The only stake you cannot raise Is the one driven through your heart. Chorus The people all said sit down, sit down you're rocking the boat. The people all said sit down, sit down you're rocking the boat. 'cause the devil will drag you under by the sharp lapels of your checkered coat. Sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down you're rocking the boat.
The Flirting Kind She used to be the flirting kind But the boy loved her anyway He made up his mind She said, What's a girl to do to be content? Use your imagination Time to experiment Make love like a punishment So they call her the flirting kind The flirting kind You better stop Stop your running round I got everything I wanted I could make up for lost ground With the flirting kind The flirting kind Your love is best But I'll leave like the rest The flirting kind The flirting kind They say that her fate is sealed But she's much too beautiful to ever yield She says, What's a girl to do to be content? Use your imagination Time to experiment Make love like a punishment So they call her the flirting kind The flirting kind She's crying in her sleep For a man tone deaf So is a man all over He's all over, all over town With the flirting kind The flirting kind Your love is best But I'll leave like the rest The flirting kind The flirting kind
Walking On Thin Ice Walking on thin ice, I'm paying the price. I'm throwing the dice in the air. Why must we learn it the hard way And play the game of life with our hearts? I gave you my life, you gave me your life. Like a gush of wind in my hair. Why do we forget what's been said And play the game of life with our hearts? I may cry someday. A kiss will dry whichever way. And when my heart returns to ashes, it will be just a story. It will be just a story. And you go and try to walk across the lake Crossed it with winter and all of this is ice A terrible thing to do. They say the lake is as thick as the ocean. I wonder if she knew?
The World and His Wife (Alternate Slower Version, Submitted by Craig Ciccone) The family circle gathers 'round from very far and near To pass around the same remarks they passed away last year The little girl you dangled on your knee without mishap Stirs something in your memory and something in your lap (Chorus) The juniper berry has a very deadly kiss I would say that something here is very much amiss But it's a living and this is the life For the world and his wife The world and his wife The kissing cousins step outside to cuddle and confess She says sweet nothing at all, it's much more of a mess She says, "Our Mother and someone else's Father Went for two weeks holiday in Tarmasalata." Daddy went out the rubbish and he kept on walking Between Mum and the walls, God only knows who does the talking Chorus The conversation melts like chocolate down our open jaws Through the loud appeal of laughter and the counting of [?] And later on in the evening, through the tears and fol de rol Come the sentimental feelings for the lure of vitriol Longing thoughts go hankering for the old home overseas With a blindfold and a national anthem sung in different keys Chorus