Shortened version of this track - a rough mix, too, which will be sorted. The full extravaganza (featuring the Bike Cemetery Brass) will be posted in the fullness of time.
The song itself will be familiar to most. I have adapted some of the words, which are the result in any case of many interpolations and accretions over the
song's long history.
I realise that the vocal in the spoken section is unclear (which will be fixed shortly with some judicious compression) so here's what I am saying:
Can't miss it, mate
-Just a step up the road, through the freshly privatised out-patients' clinic
without walls, the result of a recent merger with the debtors' prison. Cemetery
gates on the left, 24 hour offy on the right, and all the bright new shining glass, playschool clad,
buy to let cash-farms gleaming like an advert for the transparency and self presence of the
well-lived life. It's just there - yeah, next to those hoardings displaying
gym-zombies with bodies like well sculpted CVs and posters exhorting
responsible citizens to do something wild and life-affirming - go shopping. There's pictures of them
gurning like giro day. It's a small door.
There's a buzzer.
If they ask, say I
sent you
Obviously, the best ever version - for both its sound and the morbid-hallucinatory visuals, is this one. Sorry about the ad at the beginning.