Staying up late and waking up still drunk can lead to the realisation that a solo album might be a fine idea. I am either the exception or the rule that proves neither the exception nor the rule. Here's some shit:
(a true story about following a chick to Chicago, everything going wrong, but still going home with a new favourite town)
It's warming up here, I'm
down to 2 layers of tees
And you were telling me on the phone you'll be closing windows soon
Half a world away things
are much like they were
I don't like that guys band anymore
The priests and the
pricks all get their kicks
In your town
Sure this place rocks, all bets are off
It's your town
We should have talked it over
I was never any good at that shit
And we were rarely sober
I might as well admit
That that Tallahassee
freak deserves the best seats
In your town
The sad thing is that I liked him before that car park thing I saw
In your town
Don't you wish that we
could've been better
Than the crap that we turned into?
I know I do
All those rockabilly boys
and their pinup chicks
Newspaper machines next to drunks on the street
Your friends I met, the cheap cigarettes
The girl in the shop who didn't understand me
And made me write it down
The places we went when I missed something good
How you kinda sorta figured maybe I understood
The postcards and kisses, pissups and missus
These things I'll miss
I'll take another hit of
Your town
This place is too cool to hate
Your town
Hope I understand one day
Your town
Where I fell out with you, and in with it
Your town
Where everything and nothing makes perfect sense
I'm gonna miss you and your town...
(same trip, funny drunk night with a mate and a cute barmaid. I got scared and never even said hello to her after this. I've not spoken to him either, but that's more through incompetence than anything serious)
Free Budweiser for
talkin' funny
Free Budweiser, she liked my accent
"This one's on me" she said, "I like the way you said that"
I said "No. I like the way you said that"
Hey Goodtime Nick, is
this a normal thing?
Hey Goodtime Nick, won't you tell me what it means?
"Dude! She was so
hitting on you!
Dude! She was so hitting on you!
Get yourself over there! Do something funny!
Dude! She's still hitting on you!
Dude! She's over there and she's looking at you"
This City Will Eat You Alive #1
(Drums by Mickster in 99, written and recorded 04 and a completely fucking blatant Pollard rip off)
If there was one thing
she was wondering
When she put the boy to bed:
"Is there anything uglier, or stupider
Than us over here, and over there, your head?"
She wants to be a hostess
On a rusty time machine
Her mother was a waitress
She had a dream
Where Elvis kissed her close upon the cheek
She always knew
It was never gonna be that neat
I always wondered if she
ever wandered
If she ever closed her eyes
He's over there
He'll sleep it off someday
She's gonna have the last say ...
(a quintessential wake up drunk moment. You've got to be pretty fucked up to try and tackle a Mark Eitzel song, let alone his best one. I said: WAKING UP DRUNK. My apologies in advance)
I lay all my songs at
Johnny Mathis' feet
I said, "Johnny, Johnny tell me
Can you tell me how to live?
All my hopes are unravelling and I just lost my lease
On my house without love, doors, or windows
Without peace."
And with a wave of his jewel-encrusted hand
Across the glittering Las Vegas scene he said,
"You gotta learn how to disappear in the silk and amphetamine."
Johnny looked at my songs and he said,
"Well at first guess, never in my life
Have I ever seen such a mess.
Why do you say everything as if you were a thief?
Like what you've stolen has no value
Like what you preach is far from belief?"
And with a wave of his red white and blue hand
Across the glittering Hollywood scene he said,
"You gotta learn how to disappear in the silk and amphetamine."
Johnny looked at my old collection of punk rock posters
Anonymous scenes of disaffection, chaos and torture
And he said, "You were on the right track
But you're a lamb jumping for the knife."
He said, "A real showman knows how
to disappear in the spotlight."
Lastly we find this bitter but funny character study, about nobody in particular. Inspired by a number of events but not about any one of them, Flatmates PR manages to use the terms cunt, fuckwit & fucked up, name checks Peter Buck and The Jam, encourages drinking and smoking to excess, and even contains a key change. All that and some more silly silly guitar wankery. Can't go wrong. Mickster again on sticks, Matty Galvin on guitar, Shunt on bass & backing vox.
I'm
not ashamed to take the blame for things said when I'm drunk
However inappropriate, they're things I've longtime thunk
And I'll stand by every word, even the ones that you never heard
And those ones I don't recall, I'll stand them up and watch the dumb ones fall
That
boy you've got is a fuckwit, baby, he was never good for you
He never tells you that you're beautiful or promises the world
And though it's the path of most resistance if that cunt's in spitting distance
Then I'll spit until I'm dry
Stagger home and hang my head
Fully clothed on an empty bed
Knowing exactly what I should have said
And wonder if or why I ever tried
He
never tells you you're an angel, he should be saying it everyday
From the day I met you, I can't let that picture go away
He never shouts out when he sees you or stops to think “Hey, I’m a lucky
man”
It's breaking my heart, here we go again
So
when the hell will we gonna ourselves on that too-much-talked-about bender?
Where we get fucked up and dance on the tables to 'Beat Surrender'
And the word in from the street says together we're funny, smart and sweet
But I still can't see what it is that you don't see in me
He
never tells you you're a goddess when it's obvious to see
He never comes downstairs when you're not there and your flatmates prefer me
He never shoots pool till the sun comes up, can’t rave for hours about Peter
Buck
It's breaking my heart, you're still stitching it up
And
I got no idea where this thing's going, can’t say the same means that much to
you
The pain of not quite knowing is beating the shame if maybe it comes true
And the blame when nothing happens will be mine alone to bear
Yeah, I know I've got big shoulders
But not while you're wrapping yours around someone else’s somewhere
London
can get lonely but it's not that far away
I hope you find out what you're looking for and I hope that you don't stay
And I hope that you'll remember to put on 'Beat Surrender'
Light a cigarette and do that dumb dance step, and when you do I hope you
won’t forget
That
I'll be calling you an angel, I'll be saying it most days
Cause on the day I met you something blessed you - I just got caught in the way
And I'll shout out when I see you, my shout all night, I won’t let you go
It's ... just ... a ... heart ........
Updated September 10, 2004
Careful With That Angst, Eugene
Drums recorded by Mickster in 99, the rest done on the lazy afternoon of 10/9/04. Lyrics stolen from various PB'ers over many years. If anyone recognises anything, let me know.
She's the bunny and I'm
the bear
With the big fucking claws and the big fucking teeth
Preaching to the choir and mastering the obvious since 1963
King of the knee-jerk reactions,
Backload the action and walk smiling into the sun,
Lets find a bar and a face that'll thrill me
Do you think maybe, could you be the one?
On the weekend that everyone got pissed off with each other
Welcome back, welcome back, you drunk drug addict,
Don't get me Satred
Careful with that angst, Eugene
Careful with that angst
Living in a world fabricated by stoned comedians
More bit parts than a meccano convention
It's like some damn anorexic pig with too much mascara being choked to death
Careful with that angst