An Interlude from the Stars...
Maybe life isn’t about avoiding the bruises. Maybe it’s about collecting the scars to prove that we showed up for it. Because, we are stronger in the places we have been broken...
Time for a brief musical interlude from our normal proceedings…
Recently I have been beset by a number of mysterious ailments, dis-ease, and unwanted inconveniences. As such, I have had some time to listen to music and ponder, but no time at all to watch the stars and write.
And so I would like to use this interlude from my planned schedule to share with you an under appreciated, but much loved (at least by me) British SKA Band - The Selecter.
And share their musical take on today, through the lens of times past...
So, sit back, put your feet up and relax.
It's time to take a journey through some of their tunes, and how they tell the story of now…
Some 44 years after the great 1979 2-Tone Tour that featured The Specials, supported by Madness and The Selecter, we find ourselves gazing through a broken mirror, at a reflection of the déjà vu we are currently living through…
The history of the late 70s and early 80s is repeating itself this decade, as if by design.
(Please indulge me (especially my non British audience), by listening to each tune in turn, rather than reading down and coming back to the songs. It will all make sense by the end).
Let's start with Somethings Burning.
An appropriate song for today, in this cascade of realities, that are building to a concerto crescendo of new birth and inevitable death, of awe and despair, fortune and favour, but ultimately... Fate.
As the world we once knew burns all around us…
Apologies for the missing lyrics on Somethings Burning, Use Me Up, Toussaint’s Children, and Nameless. Despite searching extensively, these could not be found anywhere, and I have not had the time, or wherewithal to transcribe them myself.
Too Much Pressure. A song that encapsulates this crazy upside down whirlpool of a life we find ourselves in, with it's erroneous pull and priorities of vacuous, worthless goals and pursuits.
That combined bring no ease to our lives, only unwanted pressures…
Too much pressure
Too much pressure
Too much pressure
Too much pressure
Too much pressure, this pressure got to stop
Too much pressure, it's getting to my head
Too much pressure, they're giving me hard times
Too much pressure, my woman made me sad
Too much pressure, she try to make me look small
Too much pressure, end up with no money
Too much pressure, my car fail it's MOT
Too much pressure, it's too much pressure
Too much pressure, it's too much pressure
Too much pressure
Too much pressure
Too much pressure
Too much pressure
Too much pressure
Too much pressure (It's got to stop, it's got to stop)
Too much pressure (It's got to stop, it's got to stop)…
Too much pressure (It's got to stop, it's got to stop)
Too much pressure, Him fumble up a woman
Too much pressure, my life's so hard
Too much pressure, and all them certain kind of people
Too much pressure, them having it easy
Too much pressure, them sail through life
Too much pressure, them have no joy
Too much pressure, them have no joy
Too much pressure, this pressure got to stop
Too much pressure, this pressure got to stop
Too much pressure, it's got to stop, it's got to stop
Too much pressure, it's got to stop, it's got to stop
Too much pressure, it's got to stop, it's got to stop
Too much pressure
Too much pressure, oh Lord, oh Lord
Too much pressure, oh what me a go do?
Too much pressure, it's too much pressure…
Use Me Up should probably be dedicated to us and our struggle with the demiurge - that half-impulse, that living abortion, the creator and destroyer of reality, and enemy of all mankind.
Like his minions here on Earth, using us all up for some other men's cause(s)…
Which bring us to - Three Minute Hero - and a solemn Soliloquy of despair (at least there is a theme here with some of my recent work).
But it's time to rise above our situation, stop moaning about our lot, and take back our lives...
Choose Life...
Be a three minute hero, help your fellow Man, and make a difference!
They asked you if you're alright
You say yes
But all the time you know
It's just a fuckin’ mess
It's 5 PM and you're on your way home
Just another day with that endless grey drone
Three minute hero
I wanna be, a three minute hero
I wanna be, a three minute hero
I wanna be, a three minute hero
Drag yourself along the road
Sit on the bus
Switch on your transistor
Causes a fuss
It's 11 PM and you're on your way home
Just another night with that endless grey drone
Three minute hero
I wanna be, a three minute hero
I wanna be, a three minute hero
I wanna be, a three minute hero
I wanna be, I wanna be, I wanna be
A three minute hero
Three minute hero
I wanna be, a three minute hero
I wanna be, a three minute hero
I wanna be, a three minute hero
It's too early in the morning
Stupid job
Don't wanna eat, can't think straight
Same as yesterday
It's 7 AM and you're leaving home
Just another day with that endless grey drone
A three minute hero, I wanna be
A three minute hero, I wanna be
A three minute hero, I wanna be
A three minute hero, I wanna be
A three minute hero, I wanna be
A three minute hero, I wanna be
A three minute hero, I gotta be
A three minute hero, I wanna be
A three minute hero, I gotta be
A three minute hero, I wanna be
A three minute hero, I gotta be
And so Toussaint’s Children we here have all become, we choose to come here, back to this Earth now, and incarnate in order to plant the seeds of new birth.
So do not falter in the task at hand…
And Celebrate the Bullet, as she will prove useful in the days and months ahead, and will be worshipped by those with fear in their hearts, as much as by Men of valour…
Celebrate the bullet
Put your finger on the trigger
But you don't have to pull it
'Cause you know it won't bring them
Back to you, back to you
Celebrate the bullet
But you have to snigger
You told 'em all to shove it
'Cos you know it won't bring them
Back to you, back to you
Celebrate the bullet, bullet, bullet, bullet, bullet, bullet
Celebrate the bullet, bullet, bullet, bullet, bullet, bullet
Celebrate the bullet, bullet, bullet, bullet, bullet, bullet
Celebrate the bullet, bullet, bullet, bullet, bullet, bullet
Celebrate the bullet
Put your finger on the trigger
But you don't have to pull it
'Cause you know it won't bring them
Back to you, back to you
Celebrate the bullet
It all seems to get much bigger
Do you really have to prove it
'Cos you know it won't bring them
Back to you, back to you
Celebrate the bullet, bullet, bullet, bullet, bullet….
And let's finish today's little jaunt into the past with The Selecter and the much loved British Ska movement, with Nameless, a song that speaks for itself...
True to form we should honour the 2-tone army with some tunes by Madness, and The Specials.
So, let's have an ode to our current predicament, with Breaking Point.
I'm here at breaking point, mind and body tired
Those plans for happiness have all expired
The sales pitch from door to door
Says feed the rich and hang the poor
Twinkle twinkle, little star
Point me to the nearest bar
I'll drown my sorrows with the rest
Do your worst, I'll do my best
Here I am, at breaking point
I'm here at breaking point, the pen has dropped
Progress would be wonderful if only it would stop
The internet is free to surf, measures intellect by girth
Here come another email, there goes another shemale
Social media is a trend that will send us all around the bend
Heavy is the load of a creature ill-disposed
Of a man who finds the end before the start
It breaks your heart
Stand with me at breaking point as riots hit the streets
Another toppled government will make the day complete
There goes another border, here comes a new world order
It's time to call it quits before the future hits
With the help of God and a few marines
We'll blow this place to smithereens
Here we are, at breaking point
Heavy is the load of a creature ill-disposed
Of a man who finds the end before the start
It breaks your heart
La-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la
With the help of God and a few marines
We'll blow this place to smithereens
Here we are
With the help of God and a few marines
We'll blow this place to smithereens
Here we are
With the help of God and a few marines
We'll blow this place to smithereens
Here we are, at breaking point.
And finish with One Better Day.
Arlington house, address no fixed abode
An old man in a three-piece suit sits in the road
He stares across the water, he sees right through the lock
But on and up like outstretched hands
His mumbled words, his fumbled words, mock
Further down, a photo booth, a million plastic bags
And an old woman filling out a million baggage tags
But when she gets thrown out, three bags at a time
She spies the old chap in the road to share her bags with
She has bags of time
Surrounded by his past, on a short white line
He sits while cars pass either side, takes his time
Trying to remember one better day
A while ago when people stopped to hear him say
Walking round you sometimes hear the sunshine
Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes
Now she has walked enough through rainy town
She rests her bag against his and sits down
She's trying to remember one better day
A while ago when people stopped to hear her say
Walking round you sometimes hear the sunshine
Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes
Walking round you sometimes hear the sunshine
Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes
The feeling of arriving when you've nothing left to lose
Walking round you sometimes hear the sunshine
Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes
The feeling of arriving when you've nothing left to lose.
For there is always light at the end of the tunnel, if only we keep moving forward…
Choose Life, and together let's stand up and manifest a better one than this reality is currently offering.
Thank you for listening to today's musical interlude, we will be returning to usual frequency and sequence in short order.
HP just published too; I'll cross post both of you tonight, I want to give my own post 24 hours
No not to bad,adrenaline was pumping like mad,spent an hour cursing the universe ,bog,man'cs on the way home.It was always a bitter pill to swallow that the best supporters couldn't celebrate a trophy. The toon army took over trafalgar Square,not a red scarf or shirt in sight.Jack asks where all the men are? Well my tribe is still pretty masculine oriented,geordies haven't changed that much,yet.Theres been debate about the origins of the word,people.I found" geordie" in the British edda ,6 thousand years old!!