No Night Sweats N o  N i g h t  S w e a t s No Night Sweats
Sydney's Post-Punk Bands
I Like Music
Slapp Happy are Terrific
A List of CDs
Text is What I Write
Crime Fiction is Silly
[ No Night Sweats - Lyrics and Stuff ]
Green Tea

[These are just your standard, everyday nonsense lyrics, I'm afraid to say although there was some influence by a street called Devonshire. But they DO make it on onomatopoeia anyway. 
The most interesting thing about them are the 'samples' from that Grandmaster Flash song at the end. 
The music is quite fast and active, driven by a running bass line that stomps down hard at the chorus.]

(Backup vocals by Rae Byrom)

Like hump the city pumps for the runaway
New stuff, pretty muffs it’s the runaway
Sit down, wait around for the comin’ day
All packed, get that snack for the runaway
Hey, hey, hey

(Please don’t say it) We’re not silly wake only once

Green tea, drinkin’ three with the runaway
Hang loose like a goose it’s a runaway
Old crow : missive grows now the runaway
Hey, hey, hey

We’re not silly wake only once (for the runaway)
All packed, get that snack for the runaway
Hey, hey, hey
We’re not silly wake only once (for the runaway)
(Please don’t say it) We’re not silly wake only once

See that walk, no-one’s fault
Feel the earth like bitten cork
Oh, I wanna move it
You just close that gate and it’s never too late
You mouth that kiss and ya see the strain
But I wanna move it
Show me where pieces share
Cold and hot, shiver wet
I wanna move it
Leave at once ‘cause we’ve hit the front

OK (Please don’t say it) We’re not silly wake only once
For the comin’ day
Hey, hey, hey
We’re not silly wake only once

See that walk, no-one’s fault
Feel the earth like bitten cork
Oh, I wanna move it
You just close that gate and it’s never too late
You mouth that kiss and ya see the strain
But I wanna move it
Show me where pieces share
Cold and hot, shiver wet
I wanna move it
Leave at once ‘cause we’ve hit the front

“Don’t push me ‘cause I’m close to the edge
I’m tryin’ not to lose my head”

OK
“It’s like a jungle sometime it makes me wonder
How I keep from goin’ under…”

Leave at once ‘cause we’ve hit the front
.
 

Who’s Gonna Help Me Now?
(by Slapp Happy)

[A most easy song to learn and expand upon, we also made our version as stupid as possible by the 'Uncle Reamus' / American car confabulation. After the first couple of verses we decided to turn on the C&W switch and then bring it up on the 'breakin this poor heart of mine' lyric, where it's quite appropriate.]

(Backup mumbles and so on by Nivek Thompson)

Who’s gonna help me now?
Who’s gonna help me now?
He left me alone on the aerodrome
Goddamit
Who’s gonna help me now?
Who’s gonna help me now?

He never told me a lie
No, I never told him a lie
He swore he’d be black with a cadillac
A Chevy
You’re nowhere and never on time
Breakin’ this poor heart of mine

I’m down to my very last dime
I’m down to my very last dime
This flight is the start to the end of my heart
You’re nowhere and never on time
Breakin’ this poor heart of mine
Oh you’re breakin’ this poor heart of mine…

Oh you’re breakin’ it
How you’re breakin’ it
Really breakin’ it…
.
 

Nights in a Glass

[Possibly the song I'm most proud of in my whole, small catalogue with a lovely chord progression and a twisting melody that flies over the top. The overdubbed chorus at the end always makes my heart warmer. Lyrics about missed opportunities and getting drunk to stave off the thoughts - how deep.]

(Vocals in the middle verse by Nivek Thompson)

What’s up I wanna know
The next glass I’ll never go
Fall in and miss again
That’s right see ya friend

What’s up I wanna sing
I can’t move a bloody thing
Lookin’ left or right
But never into sight

It all depends on just what I know
Seeing the future

What’s up I can’t explain
It’s no use don’t try again
I’ll fall out and miss so much
That’s right see ya, see ya

It all depends on just what I show
See the future to worry ‘bout, worry ‘bout
All the hands up and count me out

All night sit up waiting
I don’t know when I made my mind up
It should be plain as the glass I hold

What’s up my mind is tense
The same old stupid mess
I wish but that’s too much
Alright see ya

It all depends on just what I show
See the future to worry ‘bout, worry ‘bout
All the hands up and count me out

All night sit up waiting
I don’t know when I made my mind up
It should be plain as the glass I hold

What’s up I can’t explain
It’s no use don’t try again

It all depends on just what I show
See the future to worry ‘bout, worry ‘bout
All the hands up and count me out

All night sit up waiting
I don’t know when I made my mind up
It should be plain as the glass I hold…
.
 

Dogs and Dogs

[One of the first tracks I wrote in my bedroom post-Wild West. Basically sums up the 
original idea I had of massed, buzzing synths and choral-like vocal harmonies. 
The lyrics were one of my many attempts to explore parts of my relationship with Annette.] 

(Lovely tabla playing by Antoni Rudnicki)

I’m seeing three, last time I wanted to
Dogs and dogs, only one
That’s one for me

Can’t call out, just singing
Wont ever be meaning
To say that it’s never

Send me a note, this time for sure again
Dogs and dogs, only one
Next to the coat

Can’t call out, just singing
Wont ever be meaning
To say that it’s never, never, never again

I’m seeing three, last time I wanted to
Dogs and dogs, only one
That’s one for me

Can’t call out, just singing
Wont ever be meaning
To say that it’s never, never, never again

Dogs and dogs, only one
Next to the coat

Can’t call out, just singing
Wont ever be meaning
To say that it’s never, never, …never again

See one step come
.
 

Two Unbidden Cups

[An out and out love song for Annette, partly initiated by the style of the song - drifting, sparse and delicate. A terrific performance from Patrick just rounds it off. 
Released on the "Under the Southern Cross" compilation of Australian rock.]

I can’t wait another day
To see the face that’s hidden
All at once I miss it, now the wait

Is that the one unbidden cup
Is that the one unspoken phrase
And then the world starts reeling once again

All sight, all say
Once I dream I get up and get away
All I hear are words rock steady
“What’s enough?”

Here she comes
That little face
And the smile that’s wider
See the room gets brighter
Once again

The way she talk
The way she moves
The way her heels are clicking
Scratches on the floor
And now the wait

All sight, all say
Once I dream I get up and get away
All I hear are words rock steady
“What’s enough?”

Oh…dream a little dream of me…oh…

All sight, all say
Once I dream I get up and get away
All I hear are words rock steady
“What’s enough?”

Oh all I hear are words not ready
Wake up – the dream still sits so leaden
All I hear are words rock steady
“What’s enough?”

I can’t wait another day
To see the face that’s hidden
All at once I miss it, now the wait

All sight, all say, get away.
.
 

The Cedar Bench

[I always doubted my commitment to love but wanted desperately to work out why.]

(Extra vocals by Jill O'Meara and Cathy)

Sometime kick it
Make up the words
Only sometimes
Wake up the words

Ah, the wasted nights are done
The best is gone
I told you that I can see no use
And then the words forget (lost)

I told you, no you told me
To sit on a cedar fence is fun
It seemed worse to see no use
To sit on a fading bench just once
I told you, no you told me I hope
I told you, no you told me against one
I told you, no you told me I hope
Too much you told me that’s it’s too much
Once, just once

Sometime kick it
Make up the words
Only sometimes
Wake up the words
Sometime mean it
Make up the words
Only sometimes
Wake up the words

Ah, the wasted nights are done
The best is gone
I told you that I can see no use
And then the words forget…
.
 

The Goodbye Song

[The wheels on track rhythm of the song generated the lyrics with a memory of travelling down to see Tim Vandenburg late at night. It was obviously used as the last track when playing live.]

(The noisiness at the end is the N-Lets)

Aufweidersein, we’re on the train
Aufweidersein, hooray
Aufweidersein, we’re on the train
Aufweidersein, hooray

All night sit up wait on the midnight train
To wave bye-bye
All night sit up wait on the Wollongong train
To wave bye-bye

So long, farewell
Be good, see ya later
Stay warm
See ya later, Sayonara

Be well, you bet
Fay Wray, ho-ho
See ya later, Sayonara

All night sit up wait on the Wollongong train
To wave bye-bye
All night sit up wait on the midnight train
To wave bye-bye

Farewell, go home
Be good, you bet
Fay Wray
See ya later, Sayonara

Keep warm, oh-ho
Get work, I will
See ya later, goodbye
.
 

Salad Days

[As is plainly obvious later on, this is a song about Modra Bebris.
Annette and I lived with her for many, many years.]

Sleep. Oh well, salad days…

Chip in the face again
But only once a week
Come out again to see the eyes
Bloodshot against the cheek

Then it’s the chopping board
Cut out a random seed
There goes the knife to make the food
That we can surely eat

Watch her look, watch as she breaths

Call in to see the friend
Stopping the memory
No time to think about the rest
When she was overseas

Staying the night in bed
Ten days instead of weeks
Come back and listen to the words
Languages not to read

Watch her look, watch as she breaths
Sleep. Oh well, salad days…

Chip in the face again
But only once a week
Come out again to see the eyes
Bloodshot against the cheek

Then it’s the chopping board
Cut out a random seed
There goes the knife to make the food
That we can surely eat

Watch the look, watch as she breaths

Call in to see the friend
Stopping the memory
No time to think about the rest
When she was overseas

Staying the night in bed
Ten days instead of weeks
Come back and listen to the words
Languages not to read

Watch her look, watch as she breaths
Sleep. Oh well, salad days all week

Watch her look, watch as she breaths
Watch her look, watch as she breaths
Watch her look, watch as she breaths
Sleep. Oh well, salad days all week

M O D R A
M O D R A
M O D R A, B E B R I S, Yes
(“Ridin’ along in a push bike honey
When I noticed you
Ridin’ along in a push bike honey
Mora Bebris too”)…
.
 

S S S Single Bed
(by Fox)

[Definitely the most infectious song we ever played, the clip-clop white 
noise slap drove the stupidity of the rather terrific lyrics home.
The original version was soft and seductive whilst we played it up the double-entendre for all it was worth.
Patrick's almost note perfect take on the crummy guitar solo is quite magnificent]

C-C-C-Come, come inside
I can show me what’s on my mind
Sh-Sh-Sh-Shoes, take ‘em off
Then I’ll turn my lights down soft

Oh, but all I’ve got is a s-single bed
There aint no room for my big head
Now aint it a shame you missed the last train
‘Cause all I’ve got is a s-single bed.

S-s-s-s-single bed, single bed
There aint no room for my fat head
Single bed, single bed
I got a one solitary, lonesome, single…

A-buh-buh-buh-buh-ba-doop-bow
Baby don’t you cry, bye-bye baby, bye-bye…

Oh, but all I’ve got is a s-single bed
There aint no room for my big head
Now aint it a shame I missed the last train
‘Cause all I’ve got is a s-single bed.

S-s-s-s-single bed, single bed
There aint no room for my fat head
Single bed, single bed (ah-ha-ha-ha-ha)
I got a one solitary, lonesome, single…

I got a one solitary, lonesome, single bed…
.
 

My Little Laugh Till It Hurts Babies

[Public Service 11AM with Nivek, Elizabeth, Peter and myself hooting it up.]

Laughing, non-stop
Afternoon, woke up
Best laugh ever
Hear it break, clatter
Two girls, one (white) boy
Round a desk, office
Closed in, “quiet”
All those eyes
Turn up

Keep it down, whisper
Fill the cup, water
Drink that tea, drink that tea…
.
 

C.S.I.R.O.

[Our first real attempt at writing lyrics together and with the direct intention of making them funny.
The 'fusion' / 'Peugot' couplet is, if I may say so myself, divine.
For those of you not from Australia, the CSIRO are the government funded scientific organisation.]

Digging those trenches and reading those readings
C.S.I.R.O.
They have got findings which we are not heeding
C.S.I.R.O.

“C” stands for the comets
“S” stands for the sex
“I” stands for the ions
“R” stands for the rest
And the rest sing “Oh, Oh, O”

Growing those fucias with a-tomic fusion
C.S.I.R.O.
They don’t look rich but they’re all driving Peugots
C.S.I.R.O.
Splitting the atom with parts of an ovum
C.S.I.R.O.(vum)
They’re so dedicated it’s practically sickening
C.S.I.R.O.

“C” stands for the comets
“S” stands for the sex
“I” stands for the ions
“R” stands for the rest
And the rest sing “Oh, Oh, O”

Digging those trenches and reading those readings
They have got findings which we are not heeding
C…S…I…
“R” stands for the rest
And the rest sing “Oh, Oh, O”

The world is so big it’s as tall as my ceiling
Look what my radio telescope’s hearing
Some of it bad, some is indifferent
The sum of the angles is hypotamusing

“C” stands for the comets
“S” stands for the sex
“I” stands for the ions
“R” stands for the rest
And the rest sing “Oh, Oh, O”
.
 

Harry Wong’s Cat

[A try at an Elmer Bernstein feel, like Breakfast at Tiffanys combined with The Pink Panther.
The lyrics are wonderfully ridiculous. 
Apparently played on radio 2JJ quite a bit for a while although we'd broken up by then - 
the story of my musical life, really.]

[Are my levels OK? Meow!]

Harry Wong’s fat, oh I know
Where Harry is at, it’s his clothes
Harry Wong’s cat, he must go
To get a hat for his show
Then he went splat, ‘cause I know

Harry Wong’s fat, here he comes
Watch him go splat, watch it son

Harry Wong’s vat, full of fun
Listen to dat, it’s a gun
From Harry Wong’s hat shooting comes
“Hey, what was that”, then I run

To Harry Wong’s flat, here I come
Doc he said “stat”, watch it son
“Why’d he do that to my mum”

I know something is brewing and it’s not tea.

Harry Wong’s cat in a stew
Maison le chat, fong tong hoo
Harry Wong’s plait, ich been nicht
By Harry Wong’s cat for a fix

Harry’s upset, see him rage
Cats that use drugs, earn no wage
They don’t turn blue they turn beige

I know something is brewing and it’s not tea.
Oh…

Perculator pop, Perculator pop
Perculator, Perculator
Perculator pop

Something is brewing it’s easy to see
It not coffee or Bonox or bright Chinese tea
Leave him to his business
Let him get it done
Yesirree, Harry Wong’s for me

Oh yeah – he’s quite a guy, Phil
That Harry, what a guy – he certainly is
Yea, he sure is
Ya know why I like Harry?
No, Phil, why do you like Harry?
It’s just because – yes, Phil?
He’s fat
.
 

Come and See The Silly Work

[The inability of certain, un-named individuals to use a spanner.
The first time we dropped out all the music (too confusing) and let the vocals do it almost alone.]

It won’t stop, it won’t help the leaking, the wasting
The water is gripping and the weekend spent waking
To turn off and screw back the china to make it
Start working and gushing is the reason – don’t break it
It won’t help crying we can see - It won’t spot

The tap drips, I’d say that we’re needing a washer
With pliers and wrenches wish that I’d been a plumber

It won’t help crying we can see - It won’t spot
Come and see the silly work
Helping fix the cistern is the last we heard

It hardly seems worth all those years at my study
When some simple breakdown can’t be fixed in a hurry

It won’t help crying we can see - It won’t spot
Come and see the silly work
Helping fix the cistern is the last we heard
.
 

Questions Are Singing

[More useless relationship pondering.]

(Backing vocals by Angela Plevey and Drosma Bebris)

See the way that handle’s working, 
See the way it’s going round
See the way that handle’s working, 
See the way it’s going round
I won’t be here, I won’t be here, 
I won’t be here, I won’t be here

No listen that one month was clear as mud to me
No wonder we’re thinking “at last it’s all we need”

I know – when the meaning seems to just dissapear it’s hard

I won’t be here, nothing to lose
Staying three years that’s what I lose
Maybe I want to go

No listen that one month was clear as mud to me
No wonder we’re thinking “at last it’s all we need”

I know – when the meaning seems to just dissapear it’s hard
I know – and the questions keep on singing a start, I know

I won’t be here, nothing to lose
Staying three years that’s what I lose
Maybe I want to go

No listen that one month was clear as mud to me
No wonder we’re thinking “at last it’s all we need”

I know – when the meaning seems to just dissapear it’s hard
I know – and the questions keep on singing a start, I know

See the way that handle’s working, 
See the way it’s going round
See the way that handle’s working, 
See the way it’s going round
See the way that handle’s working, 
See the way it’s going round
See the way that handle’s working, 
See the way it’s going round

No listen, in one month I don’t think things can change
No wonder the talking keeps going on again
Let’s listen can we?
.
 

The Common Word

[Definitely the first song I wrote in my bedroom studio.
Thinking about how good it is meeting Annette again even though our love had changed.]

(Lovely Backing vocals by Sue Manigian)

Sit back one word, hit back one verb, carries almost…

Happy to see you
But most on the weekend : the common word
(Common word)
Help fit another
A worse one together, it’s on a word
That makes it look easy when…

We’ve lost a lot I know…
Ending the week a walk in to say…
Ending the week a walk

[repeat]
.
 

A Sweaty Xmas

[Another dual lyricist piece and mostly Patrick's music. A Christmas cash-in that was never released.]

(Saxophone by Nivek Thompson)

It’s Christmas time again
For aubergines and footy franks and hens
They’re eating maize at Ables (eating mayonaisse)
Ken received a cable – best wishes from the bagle
Drunk beneath the table

You and me and the bumble bee
Sittin’ underneath the cedar tree
Way up, way up, way up there
Play up, play up, the hive don’t care
Dive in, drive in ang get you’re share
That’s all that I need to know :
Rabbit meat and mistletoe

It’s dinner time again
And everyone’s unhappy except for rabid Ken
There’s tension at the table (word had passed around)
The cook was still unable to manage even staples

P&T and P&G sittin’ underneath the wattle tree
Way up, way up, way up there
Play up, play up, the hive don’t care
Dive in, drive in ang get you’re share
That’s all that I need to know :
Rabbit meat and mistletoe

It’s Christmas time again
For Bobby-Jean and Holly, Frank and Ken
.
 

Man From El Paso

[A song about my dad, his love of the Western genre, fist fights on TV and an afternoon down at the local.
With great love and affection.]

(Backing vocals by Mary Quinn)

Western Union rides
Close to the weekend the worst hasn’t come
What he does tonight
Is sit in that armchair or takes a look outside…
Rolls more cigarettes
Looks at the cat which just runs away to hide
Laughs again that’s good
But mostly his vision is glued on what he could
See the cowboy shoot
Feeling the punches and stealing the loot…
Western Union rides
Just up to the club the worst still hasn’t come
What he did tonight
Is wait for a weekend when things are understood
Trying to wait for that weekend

Up too late, missed the rest, now work it out and…

Western Union rides
Close to the weekend the worst hasn’t come
Laughs again that’s good
But mostly his vision is glued on what he could…
Western Union rides
Just up to the club the worst still hasn’t come
What he did tonight
Is wait for a weekend when things are understood
Trying to wait for that weekend

Up too late, I missed the rest, now work it out…

Sit in that armchair or takes a look outside…
Trying to wait for that weekend

Up too late, missed the rest, now work it out and…
Up too late, I missed the rest, now work it out…

Close to the weekend the worst hasn’t come.
.
 

Mucky Wishes

[Yet another song exploring my feeling about my relationship with Annette. 
It sounded good when I wrote it but was made exceptional by the use of some timed 
echoes on the backbeat and other studio effects that Patrick stumbled across. 
The ending goes into a little version of 'Fever' and there's some noise by Wild West on it too.]

Finally get somewhere :

When I need another
Stick so close my hands in glue
But then you don’t get very far
Finally left it there

So close, so near, so what’s clear?

Call that muck a wish
My hope looks like a brand new dish
The eyes can see they tell it all
Finally peer to here

Overlick the son
The fingers press inside the glove
And when you pull them out you see
That they do appear

Only wish for one
To keep me up to keep me warm
I need a kick to get me up
Finally get somewhere

When I need another
Stick so close my hands in glue
But then you don’t get very far
Finally left it there

So close, so near, so what’s clear?

Call that muck a wish
My hope looks like a brand new dish
The eyes can see they tell it all
Finally peer to here…

Overlick the son
The fingers press inside the glove
And when you pull them out you see
That they do appear

So close, so near, so what’s clear?

Only wish for one
To keep me up to keep me warm
I need a kick to get me up
Finally get somewhere

So close, so near, so what’s clear?

Fever, ahhh, fever, ahhh.
.
 

Fix Up This Thread

[Almost totally impenetrable lyrics that really are just stream of consciousness. 
Patrick never really liked this one but it's a favourite of mine.]

(Backing vocals by Annette)

Let’s drive past (the wheel)
Let’s drive slow (again)
I’m still hoping (oh what)
Slowly I’m worried (he’s worried)
Let’s fly up (the wing)
Let’s fly home (the birth)
I’m still hoping (oh what)
Slowly I’m worried (he’s worried)
Seven books (the page)
Hopeless looks (a face)
Reading up on (again)
All that is washed out (he’s worried)
One day fooled (I think)
One day mad (oh no)
Never giving (no sense)
Up on the fast wall (he’s worried)
Let’s drive past (the wheel)
Let’s drive slow (again)
I’m still hoping (oh what)
Slowly I’m worried (he’s worried)
Let’s fly up (the wing)
Let’s fly home (the birth)
I’m still hoping (oh what)
Slowly I’m worried (he’s worried)

(the page)
(a face)
(again)
(he’s worried)
(I think)
(oh no)
(no sense)
(he’s worried)
Wheeling, wheeling, wheeling, wheeling…

The morning faces look at the waist
His so clever reason but not the faces
That always tell you so much
Close up and then it’s the hollow inside it
So sheer

The song in my head
I’ll fix up this thread
My mind will forget
All I have just said

[repeat sections]
.
 

Outside An Alley

[Originally a Wild West track that never really worked in the band's treatment. 
Definitely the most dense piece I played. And, once again, about being in a relationship.]

Outside an alley another name
Another body but still I lay
Claim to the same

Inside an alley to find a space
With touching bodies and still a trace
Claims to the same
Outside an alley

Outside an alley another name
Another body but still I lay
Claim to the same

It’s the same with me…
Outside an alley

Inside an alley to find a space
With touching bodies and still a trace
Claims to the same
Outside an alley
.

My Willow Tips

[One of the few songs we never mixed properly. An attempt to write a more heavy hitting tune but the lyrics were always inpenetrable.]


One time where? Hit me there.
Just once more face it
The neck in sight. Wake up.

One time scared. Wish me where.
Just once more fake it
The willow tips over.

"There" I said. Hit me where.
Just once more face it
The neck in sight. Wake up scared.

One time where? Hit me there
Just once more fake it
The willow tips over scared.

Just one little tune
Just one little tune wait
Just one little tune wait scared.

One time where? Hit me there.
Just once more face it
The neck in sight. Wake up.

One time scared Wish me where.
Just once more fake it
The willow tips over.
Now listen make it
The Willow tips over scared.

Just one little tune
Just one little tune wait
Just one little tune wait scared.

One time where? Hit me there.
Just once more face it
The neck in sight wake up.
My willow tips over
My willow tips over scared. 
Scared

Just one little tune
Just one little tune wait
Just one little tune wait scared.

.

The Gundegai Coolabah

[Written on spec as Australia's national anthem for the "Trax 0983 Anthems" LP released by an Italian company in 1983. Weirdly, this was positioned in the tracklist before Merzbow's song - which was synth pop just like ours!]
 
There's a track winding back
To that long forgotten shack
Along the road to Gundegai

Where my mummy and pappy are waitin' for me
Neath the shade of that god-damned
Old coolabah tree

There's a track winding back
To that long forgotten shack
Along the road to Gundegai

[ohh ahh, etc]

Gundegai, Gundegai, Goonawindi, Gundegai
Gundegai, Gundegai, Goonawindi, Gundegai
Gundegai, Gundegai, Close your mouth and you'll catch no flies
Gundegai, Gundegai, Gundegai
Gundegai, Gundegai, Beauty mate, it's dinky-di
Gundegai, Gundegai, Gundegai
Gundegai, Gundegai, What a little beauty, Gundegai
Gundegai, Gundegai, Gundegai

.


The One I Know

[Another Wild West song re-jigged for NNS and another lost track - never mixed properly - although this version sounds pretty good. Driven by a white noise percussion track and augmented by me bashing a vinyl bag, if memory serves me correctly]

Little said as they prepare [We all know the way to go]
Lips tight shut but saying so [We all know the way to go]
One at a time, One at a time

Tap, little glance, and the moment comes
The One I Know
[Press stop wait up keep close tight up]

Lies no-one is getting slow [We all know the way to go]
Feet hide out and coming no [We all know the way to go]
One at a time, One at a time

Tap, little glance, and the moment comes
The One I Know
[Press stop wait up keep close tight up]

Reference hidden to know [We all know the way to go]
Divided to separate low [We all know the way to go]
One at a time, One at a time

Tap, little glance, and the moment comes
The One I Know
[Press stop wait up keep close tight up]

[and some other stuff I can't work out]

.

When Was Jesus Born

[This one and the next were done in our last flurry of activity amidst the recording of
the radio play - Look Within Upon Everything. They were never completed in the studio - 
backing tracks only - so only live versions exist.

An old gospel track that Patrick found which fitted in perfectly with our style.]


[The chant draw an allegory between the arrival of the great fleet about 1350
and the coming of Christianity to New Zealand in 1814]

So tell me...
When was Jesus Born? It was the last month of the year.
Was it January? No
February? No
March April May?
June, July, Au-gust?
September, October, November?
The 25th day of December.
The last month of the year.

He was born of the virgin Mary
He was wrapped up in his swaddling
He was laid in the manger
It was the 25th day of December
The last month of the year
.

OK Fascist Get Outta My Way

[Written specifically as the last song we'd ever do live with huge ring modulated Arp Oddy backing tracks, Michael Filewood on rock guitar, overblown vocal performances and an imitation of the lead singer from Franky Goes To Hollywood whose "Relax" track was so popular at the time and hints of many other popular songs thrown in for good measure]

OK Fascist get outta my way
I got one or two or three or four-a things to say
You make me feel anxious with your sieg-heil hooray
So dig it little Hitler get outta my way

??? for a family of ten ???
"All my troubles seemed so far away
Now it looks as though they're here to stay"

We don't need this jive pollution
All we want is revolution
All we want is revolution
To end this endless dissolution

??? [complete rave out]
.


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