1. |
Oystér Soufflé Part 3
01:17
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Hello, I suppose you're wondering why I brought you here today.
You're here to listen an album.
Now, you may feel you have heard some of this before,
And you may be right, but this album promises to be better than that.
Like with bad similes these songs may have originally fallen flat,
But they have now been given the opportunity to be better than that.
This album is not The Best Of,
Or even The Very Best Of,
But it certainly is The Better Of.
Maybe even The Very Better Of.
I don't know, I may be pushing it.
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2. |
Vinyl's Coming Back
03:23
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Walking miming listening to Elvis Costello
On my mp3 player (now in stereo),
Taking the quickest route to my mates flat,
He gave me a look and he said
Vinyl's coming back
Vinyl's coming back
Vinyl's coming back
Vinyl's coming back
How do you expect me to carry it around
When it needs to be securely held down?
It can barely withstand a simple scratch,
It wouldn't get into his head.
Vinyl's coming back
Vinyl's coming back
Vinyl's coming back
Vinyl's coming back
With the Alan Parsons Project and Fleetwood Mac,
Beatles, Pixies, Rolling Stones and The Clash,
Joy Division, 10cc and INXS,
Neil Young, ELO and Genesis.
But Paul McCartney sounds his best
When he's fighting off the dust
And the record sleeve shows a scene
With Parky on the front
Vinyl's on the run
Vinyl's on the run
Vinyl's just a fad
Vinyl's coming back
With the Alan Parsons Project and Fleetwood Mac,
Beatles, Pixies, Rolling Stones and The Clash,
Joy Division, 10cc and INXS,
Neil Young, ELO and Genesis.
Vinyl's coming back
Vinyl's coming back
Vinyl's coming back
Vinyl's coming back.
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3. |
Song Of The Bird
04:27
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Singer, I hear your notes, I hear your call
And my own Manhattan with spires,
The sparkling hurried tides and the ships
And the city at hand with the dwellings so dense.
Sing on, sing on you grey brown bird,
Sing on from the swamps and the bushes
Pour your chant and sing on,
Sing on you grey brown bird.
Singer, you're the wreck of the beautiful
And my own Manhattan with spires,
Show the clouds and the trails' trip
Into the deep recesses.
Sing on, sing on you grey brown bird,
Sing on from the swamps and the bushes
Pour your chant and sing on,
Sing on you grey brown bird.
Passing visions and passing nights,
Passing hands and lucid lights.
With the knowledge of death at my side
I fled forth to the receding night,
Down to the waters shores,
Down the dim swamp path,
Passing the cedars and ghostly pines
And the singer shyly sang for me,
Passing hands of the trees
Until the charm of carol held me
As I held hands in the night
And my voice sang the song of the bird.
Sing on, sing on you grey brown bird,
Sing on from the swamps and the bushes
Pour your chant and sing on,
Sing on you grey brown bird.
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4. |
Harry Has No Place
02:39
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Well trodden boots stamping
Well sodden feet up and down on the spot.
Raincoat help keeps away
Raindrops that drop and then stay.
Torn weathered jeans he is
Torn whether or not are holding him down.
He's a trivial man
On a lineal track,
No one said anything
About ever looking back.
Bus replacements broken down
For a train that came late,
Stuck in another town
Harry has no place.
Sore eyes ache bitterly
Sore from screens staring at him all day long.
Glare fixed into the gloom
Glaring strongly at what looms.
Lightly breathe out as the
Lights come down faster and faster still.
He's a trivial man
On a lineal track,
No one said anything
About ever looking back.
Bus replacements broken down
For a train that came late,
Stuck in another town
Harry has no place.
A comfortable room with a firelit glow
Seems so far from the world you know.
There's never a time to feel more at ease
When everything can be let go.
Well trodden boots stamping
Well sodden feet up and down on the spot.
Raincoat helps keeps away
Raindrops that drop and then stay.
Steel lined monstrosities
Steely eyed nihilist philosophies.
He's a trivial man
On a lineal track,
No one said anything
About ever looking back.
Bus replacements broken down
For a train that came late,
Stuck in another town
Harry has no place.
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5. |
Oh God I Am Ready
03:46
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You're so woven in the folds of my brain
And I can't say "get out" again
Oh God, I'm ready
To call it a day.
My impulses are magnetised
To be caught behind your eyes
Oh God I'm ready
To call it a day.
You are the reason
I've been looking for.
You are the reason
I keep wanting more.
I have no answers
You do not hold.
Oh my God
I'm not ready at all.
You're so woven in the folds of my brain
And I can't say "get out" again
Oh God, I'm ready
To call it a day.
You are the reason
I keep looking for.
You are the reason
I keep wanting more.
I have no answers
You do not hold.
Oh my God
I'm not ready at all.
I've got to be here for you,
I know it's true,
Don't fall through.
You are the reason
I keep looking for.
You are the reason
I keep wanting more.
I have no answers
You do not hold.
Oh my God
I'm not ready at all.
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6. |
Blue Star
03:22
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Blue star, blue star,
Shine where you are,
Shine in the dark.
Blue star, blue star,
Shine where you are,
Shine from afar.
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7. |
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Hello.
I know what I want to say
And why I mean that I do,
But you make my tongue numb
When I think of you.
You mean something to me
You're part of everything
You mean nothing to me
Cos nothing is something good.
At least one of us is sane
But we both know it's us
And baby we're both fine,
So there isn't a rush.
You mean something to me
You're part of everything
You mean nothing to me
Cos nothing is something good.
Screaming into instant pasts,
Melodies of tuneless blasts,
Ad hoc effects of quid pro quo,
One little life, one flower to grow.
Silence ringing noiseless sounds,
Ravens flock from the ground
To make pupils in the pink sky,
One family stares one girl wants to die.
Porcelain features under Van Gogh skies,
Memories of love lost and of glowing moonlit creatures never dies.
Millions of dancing rainbows hidden in the lunar gaze,
Names that hide dancing colours crystalise.
Crystal-eyes
Almost paradise.
Please don't let Mack back in town
His double bladed silver tongue
Will not ease your pain
From your ladder's bottom rung.
You mean something to me
You're part of everything
You mean nothing to me
Cos nothing is something good.
I hope you're still listening,
Drowning our words for paper,
Cos part of me still believes
That love is all you're really after.
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8. |
Bliss
04:05
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Take my hand, I'll show you why,
You'll never know until you try.
Look at me across the room
Looking bit like a goon.
You dance with me, I dance with you,
You never know what we're gonna do,
That is what it's like at Bliss,
With Danny-boy, Jensis and this
Is a song for clubs and I know it's true
It's just an old fashioned tune
But still you can dance and sway in the arms
Of a man who can barely even dance.
Meet at the club outside the door,
Grind until your arse is raw
And then we'll sing the songs you know
The words are just our little show between us.
We missed the beat and we lost the key,
I'll do it again cos you're lost with me,
You partied hard and hit the floor,
We called you a cab at half past four and this
Is a song for clubs and I know it's true
It's just an old fashioned tune
But still you can dance and sway in the arms
Of a man who can barely even dance in
Bliss bliss bliss bliss
Dance dance dance dance
Bliss bliss bliss bliss
Dance dance dance dance
Bliss
Take my hand to grab some air,
I run my fingers through your hair
You went to kiss, but I said no,
The movies show it's done in slow-mo.
And when we tried to go inside
The bouncer said "Not tonight,
You've drunk too much", your cab arrived,
I grabbed your shoes and I waved goodbye and this
Is a song for clubs and I know it's true
It's just an old fashioned tune
But still you can dance and sway in the arms
Of a man who can barely even dance.
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9. |
Passive & Passionate
02:56
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I'm passive and passionate,
I'm hesitantly pleasant,
A pheasant eating peasant,
A Rembrandt remembering remnant of the past.
I rate the great dictators
By the furrows of their brow,
For the day someone makes me tell them
What to think they really ought to think.
Bow to me, wow to me,
I'm a literal God.
Bind me, grind me,
I'm lower than the sod.
Put me under the pedestal,
I'm still standing on.
"I'm a loquacious entity",
I'm sure I heard you say,
It's an express exposure
To a life I'm not so sure you lead.
With pizzazz it's a piece of piss
Being materialist,
Put your power in people,
Or in animals or anyone but me.
Bow to me, wow to me,
I'm a literal God.
Bind me, grind me,
I'm lower than the sod.
Put me under the pedestal,
I'm still standing on.
You say that I'm something better than this
And I say that you're taking the piss
I have never been a part of the scene,
At the least, not from what I've seen.
Bow to me, wow to me,
I'm a literal God.
Bind me, grind me,
I'm lower than the sod.
Put me under the pedestal,
I'm still standing on.
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10. |
Breathing
03:08
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Love doesn't last forever,
People won't always stay together,
But life goes on as rivers flow
And people come and people go.
And I love you now
And I mean to forever.
Please don't lean on your crutches
Or you'll fall straight into the clutches
Of dark hands with evil eyes
That rub you raw and watch you die.
And I love you now
And I mean to forever.
But please stop breathing,
Stop breathing for me now.
But please stop breathing,
Stop breathing for them now.
But please just breathe for you.
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11. |
Invaginate (To Fold)
03:46
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An echo through an underpass
Is the best conversation you have had
Since you walked down the lonely street
Where every blinking second greets you with static.
Whispers call you apathetic,
Not that you care.
You know that love is not the opposite of hate,
But indifference.
You can't be perfect but you can be good,
What more do you need to be?
You can't be the best but you can be better
And that's the perfect state to be.
Whispers call you introverted,
Not that you show it.
You know that neglect is not the opposite of care,
But indifference.
Going forwards in time,
Is going backwards in space,
You only see what you leave behind.
An echo through an underpass
Is the best conversation you have had
Since you turned inside yourself
And opened the vault of mental health.
Whispers call you everything
Not that they're real.
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12. |
The Beautiful Insanity
05:20
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There's a thing called the beautiful insanity,
It's a test on your breath of humanity,
You hold it in too long to see if you turn blue
Because it's something you've always wanted to do.
You're not mad and you're not falling apart,
You're not trying to nurse a broken heart,
You're just a girl trying to catch the leaves,
You don't know why so you keep them in your sleeves.
There's a thing called the beautiful insanity,
It reaches out and brushes your humanity
In purples, violets all looking like gold,
Something white, something new, something black, something old.
Just look around in an ambient way,
Tuck it in a drawer and name it today.
If you don't have a drawer your head will do,
Shine it sometimes so it's forever new.
There's a thing called the beautiful insanity,
Don't get me wrong if I say it's humanity.
It's not a bad thing and you've not lost the game
Because it's perfectly normal to be beautifully insane.
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13. |
Hippopotamus
01:49
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There's a happy hippopotamus
Hippo plodding along
As the toucan band sang him his song
He's a little happy,
Little hairy,
Little hippy, happy hippopotamus.
Then down from a tree
Came his friend, the monkey,
He said "Mr Potty-Wotty-Mus
Look at me!.
I can sing you a song,
And it won't be too long,
So you can hippo-party along
It's bout a little happy,
Little hairy,
Little hippy, happy hippopotamus".
While the monkey sang
Snuck Orangutan,
Behind Mr Potty-Lotty-Mus
They'd thunk a plan.
Monkey sang his song,
Which is getting quite long,
But fun if you hippo-party along.
About a little happy,
Little hairy,
Little hippy, happy hippopotamus.
But when the song slowed
Mr Potty did know
Of a wallet sized hole
In the pocket of
A not so happy,
Little hungry,
Little hippy, happy hippopotamus.
And then Monkey did shout
For Ranga to get out
Cos Mr Potty-Notty-Mus
Is charging about.
And no one sang the song
Of the Hippo-Ma-Tron
Cos he ate the Orangutan.
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14. |
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Time,
I've run out of time.
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Barabajagal Dunedin, New Zealand
Barabajagal are a band who make music.
It's pretty ok stuff
really.
It's rooted in psychedelia but incorporates so many genres that it doesn't really seem too definable. But it's ok with that.
Despite being a kiwi band the songwriter is actually rather English, so whenever he sings you'd be hard pressed to go "wow, those kiwis huh". Still, New Zealand-ish.
Pronounced Bah-Rabba-Jaggle.
... more
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