You know deep house? Well, this is deep bedsit.This is the sort of song I write when I'm drunk, it turns out. It's also inevitably sort of about lockdown.

Lyrics:

Take it as read,
I don’t get out enough these days.
Live in my head,
My eyes have gone their separate ways.
Make what you will
Of my indolence in staying here.
Drinking my fill,
From the oceans of my hemisphere.
Never follow me,
I don’t know where I’m going, mate.
Drifting in the sea,
The tide is out, it’s getting late.
The tide is out, it’s getting late.

Counting the sand,
The devil’s making work for me.
My idle hands,
Were made for this emergency.
Take me off to war,
And point me at the fortress walls.
This is what I’m for,
I’m here to watch your order fall.
I’m here to watch your order fall.

I have been shown
The workings of the universe.
If I had known,
I’m sure it would have been much worse.
Knowledge is power,
And power only causes pain.
Each passing hour
The poison seeps into my brain.
Keep me in the dark.
There’s so much I don’t want to know.
Leave me off the ark.
Just let me feel the water flow.
Just let me feel the water flow.

A long weight

Obviously quite heavily influenced by House Of The King, by Focus.

Dutch Punk

Chinese Fighting Ghosts

Imagine a small group of giant futuristic military robots with lasers and rockets and stuff fighting against a huge number of little monkeys who are climbing all over them and getting inside their workings and pulling bits off like they do with cars in safari parks. Who would win?

Robots v Monkeys

Slothcore

This is shorter than my usual fare, but it makes up for it by being absurdly full of stuff.

Superflux

Warning: contains three medium-level swears. To be specific: two shits and a bastard.

Dark Comedy

I recorded a rather mad-sounding preacher from outside an evangelical church, and then made a tune.

Nobody Can Touch Your Destination

Atomic Clock

I've Got So Much Love For You It's Unreal

I was going to put the lyrics here, but there's a 4000-character limit.
 
Edit; there's a new mix, with louder and clearer vocals, that's going on the Bandcamp Team Sofa page at some point today; that'll be downloadable.

Horror Clown

Work – Put your backs into the plough, you serfs,
Work – Wait for the meek to inherit the Earth,
Work – Beg for the pennies, it’s all you deserve,
And if you train them really well we’ll let your children serve,
Work – Get back down onto the floor and scrub,
Work – Grind your fingers down to the bloody stubs,
Work – Numb the pain with a couple of hours at the pub, And if you’re very very lucky we might let you join our club,

Guess what the best-dressed guest at his friend’s wedding gets to be.
What’s the betting he ends up the next stressed exec, desperately
Sweating away the best of his seven decades fending off entropy,
Up to his neck in oppressive debt, depressed existentially, 
Smells like a recipe for a mess of deathbed regrets to me…
The effects of obsession with success tend to be oppressive, see,
The endless collection of ephemeral possessions, the essentially 
Endemic pressure to best every competitor, guess it just gets to me.
What’s the point in it? Where’s the objective? Where’s all this going?
Yeah, I’ll help row the boat but I’ve no notion where this river is flowing,
Yes yes, progress, but what direction are we progressing in?
This vessel that we’re wrestling, second-guessing and stressing in,
Who’s got the map? Are they even holding it up the right way?
Do they have any idea what all those weird little symbols say?
Only, I’m getting the impression that this boat is going nowhere
 And I’m like, alright, but I ain’t about to break my back to row there.

Work – If your life is not quite what you planned,
Work – Be sure you don’t remove your head from the sand,
Work – Cos the marketplace is a foreign land
And you can’t criticise it if you don’t understand.
Work – Go flip burgers ‘cos arbeit macht fries
Work – Take your wages to the shops and buy
Work – Moan about the licence fee but subscribe to Sky
And if we find we’re short of money you can do it till you die.

“There’s always pay to be made if you’re not afraid of hard work”,
OK, explain the stagnation of basic wages, you berk.
It’s simple supply and demand; this is economics for dummies,
If bosses really needed more workers they’d offer more money,
Meanwhile, the privileged who are sitting on millions
Are still bitching about dishing out a diminishing pittance in benefits, still insisting the recipients are villains for pissing it on minimal subsistence instead of winning at business.
Telling the poor to employ themselves for more hours is
Like telling the homeless to build more affordable houses.
Cos, when the rich fuck up and fail, no doubt, They’re job creators, so taxpayers have to bail them out.
"We’re all terribly sad to see free national health go, but
Lord Fotherington Thomas’s moat won’t renovate itself, so...",
You thought the stakeholder economy was going to level the pitch?
No, you still live and die just trying to justify your existence to the rich.

Work - (repeat ad mortem)

Arbeit Macht Fries (Work Song)

So, how we going to do this revolution,
When every other bugger’s stuck inside?
We’d really like to get ourselves together,
But every avenue has been denied.

Still, there’s only one thing that is certain,
And that’s that everything will always change.
History isn’t finished until we are.
Now, isn’t that strange?

People seem to seek so frequently for deeper meaning in a sea of symbols and words,
Little planet spinning out in the deep void of space, it’s absurd.
Still we have to send our ashes to the skies,
Sacrificed for an imaginary prize,
All that we’ve got is each other, oh, haven’t you heard?

I know this building is a much-loved institution,
But these hallowed vaults are crumbling overhead.
Once I would have said it needed renovation,
Yes, once upon a time, that’s what I would have said.

But now the cracks are turning into chasms,
And the West Wing is on fire as we speak.
Could be years before the whole thing is in ruins,
Could be next week.

Someone needs to sort the garden out, it’s getting harder now to see the crops for the weeds.
Maybe we should go and look for some healthier place to plant seeds.
We can follow maps as long as there is light,
Find our food and pitch a shelter for the night,
All that we’ve got is each other, and that’s all that we need.

So how, we going to do this revolution?

O The Times

What’s it called when your own routine suddenly just seems unfamiliar?
Like the opposite of déjà vu, cos it all looks new to your eyes.
Like it’s not you in your skin, when you look in the mirror,
Like your own face is in place as a disguise,
Now, I hear of those who sailed across the open ocean,
Who braved the rain that scourges and the cold wind that bites.
Who grew up playing in the shadow of the ruins of the empires of the word,
Who swore that they saw spirits, shining out to guide them in the night,
But it’s all just a trick of the light.


If you shine an electron beam, an electron seems like a bullet,
Split in two, though, they do behave quite a lot like waves and it’s weird.
So the philosophers said, there is the thread, let’s pull it.
Who dares reveal that nothing’s real as we feared?
Now, you should never trust the objectivity of language,
Any words you can come up with are as likely wrong as right.
And, what with all this cosmic background radiation, I can’t focus anywhere,
Oh, take me to the river,
Cleanse this imperfection from my sight.
It’s all just a trick of the light.

What’s the word for a brain that’s caught in a train of thought that is endless?

Trick Of The Light

The higher vocal is intended for someone who can actually sing that high. Might I suggest Amber, since her guitar part in easier in the chorus? Also, it's about 4.5dB quieter than the other tracks. My bad.

The Golden Rule quiet demo

This page will contain odds and sods; my own solo stuff, Team Sofa things with LJ Bullen and Rhinoceros demos, to name but three types of thing.

Andy Haring

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