Timeline Fire Playlist 15

"Yolo! " as the young folk say nowadays & they are right. My mum, Angela passed away 23/04/14 after being diagnosed with an incurable Brain Tumour just months before. We always said we’d go one day but always found reasons not to – fools. I wrote this song for her before she left us.

Australia

Head Held High

A true story about the time when Joe Viterbo supported ageing has-been Eric Faulkner from the Bay City Rollers at a wee pub in darkest Fife... with hilarious consequences. Lyrics by Rod Drysdale.

Once upon a time in Ceres came an angry little man.
He was once a pop star in a jolly famous band:
the Bay City Rollers. You must've heard of them
if you're of that generation. 'Bye Bye, Baby', 'Shangalang'.

Well this is how it happened. He was playing a wee gig
in the pub that I worked in because my boss had got him cheap.
We were all pure buzzing, all the punters up for it.
We were hoping he still had it & would roll out the hits.

But he did not.
He was a cock.
He was a 
walloper.
He had a huff,
he took a strop
& he threatened to walk off.
Some of the punters
they gave him pelters
& he didn't like that a jot.
He is so precious
& so tenacious,
yeah, he's Eric Faulkner.

Eric Faulkner.
He's a cock.

& he thought that he was Elvis but he's just a little tool.
He didn't like the sound & he didn't like the room.
He was rude to everybody & he couldn't even sing
& at least a dozen people'd paid a tenner to see him

& he fell out wi' the joiners fae Kirkcaldy at the bar.
He was cunty to the band that had supplied all the gear
& he didn't know the words to his ain stupit songs.
It was nearly fisticuffs, it was gonna kick off.

But they did not,
though he's a cock
& a
walloper.
He took a huff,
& had a strop
& he threatened to walk off.
Some of the punters
they gave him pelters
& he didn't like that one jot.
He's so tenacious
& bloody precious
yeah, he's Eric Faulkner.

He's a cock.
He's a cock.
He's a total total cock.
He's a cock.

At the end he shuffled off wi' his money & shit craic
& I think it's fair to say that he'll no' be coming back.
How old were you? Do you remember Faulknergate?
Once upon a time in Ceres. Can you say that you were there?

If you were not,
he was a cock.
He was a 
walloper.
He had a huff,
he took a strop.
I wish I'd told him to fuck off.
All of of the punters
they gave him pelters
& he didn't like that a jot.
& he's so precious
& so tenacious,
& he's Eric Faulkner.

Cock.

The Jakey Shakes

Joe Viterbo - The Ballad of Eric Faulkner

Not In My Name

This made it onto Fresh Faves top 15 tracks of 2018 out of thousands of tracks !! (BBC Tom Robinson's blog) .Yay!
https://freshonthenet.co.uk/2018/12/mods2018/

Lyrical wordplay rap.
Lyrics and vox by Madeline8,Beat by Jon Clark - Brighton,Produced by Daniel Broughan. 
Lyrics......... 
Me and Dave yeah we walked thru the maze, by the caverns and curls and the caves  I was amazed -
set astray we wandered thru the night and the day, set alight as we waved at the gulls on their way,
-----yes we did pass go , we did collect two hundred pounds we did walk , we did run , set our weapons on the ground.-----
Yeah me and Pete ,set our feet on the street , wove a walk as we talked left and right all the night,
the people they are speaking holding hands on the cathedral , he told me all the silent secrets underneath the steeple.****
Roll out the red carpet , for yourself , become a remarkable artist of paint, paper, stealth, 
Taking apart this labyrinth of catharsis, with freeview glasses , relieve you of your masks, yes.
What's all this nastyness? I 'um' n 'ah' at this , you know now Narcissus and your cathartic cuts , he cut his arm enough , cos there was harm to love ,I do disarm you bruv, I boil a balmy blush, we're arm -in- arm ,me love, phenomenom to shove, I do disarm you love , he put his palm to touch , if this goes on enough , we'll be synonymous, if this goes on me love ,if this goes on.
me and Rex made a bet , yeah we danced right and left , muttered 'all hands on deck' , soaked the rags in rugged red
All alive , all aligned, once again here we drive brother sister coming at ya with a stuning silver mist---chorus---
You takin' part in this , or are U smart but pissed ? Still breaking hearts with hits?Are you an Artful Diss, preoccupied with lists, do not deny the drips that heaven sends you lick them from your palms and twist them up your arms and whisk them double time. You wish that you could rhyme like Madeline Sublime, you wish that you  were mine from dusk until sunrise from drowning til high tide? Catastrophes collide , I'm clowning with ya eyes, apostrophes abide, I'm linking to your mind, I'm thinking to you live , delinquent lullaby , be late but still on time, these bars they dance in lines, these bars be calling 'time'......
An anarchistic kiss , these lips they slide and slip  I'm ever gliding glyphs , I'm memorising myths. What kinda time you call this? I'm ever riding riffs ,
 can only rise thru rips,and never lie just lift, apologise real quick , and suck a snidey spliff , a double sided diss or polystyrene riff to wrap around the gift ,to wrap around........chorus ......mmmmmm

'Delinquent Lullaby'

1 Bitch 2 Bitch

You aint angry? You ain't listening.

Download here (pay what you can afford) https://johndrevelator.bandcamp.com/track/boris-johnson-blues

Video here. Enjoy! https://youtu.be/I94L26rOM8c

A
How he got where he is today, I haven’t got a clue
D
I didn’t vote for him & neither did you
E7
Papers all laugh at every racist thing he’ll do
D			A
We got the Boris Johnson Blues

He says Muslim women look like letterboxes
He’s a dirty old shagger, can’t control his cock
Even he don’t know how many kids he’s got
We got the Boris Johnson Blues
Chorus
D				A
We got the Boris Johnson Blues. We got the Boris Johnson Blues
D				E7
It looks more like 1933 each time I turn on the news
Time to take to the streets, time to organise
Time to talk to one another & put our differences aside
You’re either good or evil, it’s time to decide
We got the Boris Johnson Blues

His views on Black people outdated & vile
He calls them picaninnies with water melon smiles
He should maybe say sorry but that just ain’t his style
We got the Boris Johnson Blues

He don’t think gay people should be allowed to wed
Intolerance & Hatred is what he spreads
Calls them tank topped bum boys, instead
We got the Boris Johnson Blues

We got the Boris Johnson Blues. We got the Boris Johnson Blues
Hijacked the whole country when we were having a snooze
Can you really support the kind of horrible scrote
Who can take from his wallet a £50 note 
Burn it in the face of some homeless bloke
We got the Boris Johnson Blues

Instrumental

(Slow)
Please bear this in mind at the ballot box
When you step inside to place your cross
You have it in your power to make it stop
Yeah, it’s all up to you
A billionaire liar who like to get his leg over
Who’s trashed our democracy from Stornoway to Dover
Or principled man of peace & dedicated veg grower
Well I know which one I’ll choose

We got the Boris Johnson Blues, We got the Boris Johnson Blues
If it happened anywhere else in the world we’d call it a Right wing coup
Friends with the arms dealers, media & bankers
Closer to Trump than Ivana & Ivanka
Even lied to the  Queen,  what a thoroughly horrid person
We got the Boris Johnson Blues

Boris Johnson Blues

A love song for Annie Diment that covers my other great loves, Bristol Rovers and drugs. Childhood hero and local Glastonbury footballing legend, now chemist, Paul Randall (Punky) left Rovers (The Gas) in 1979, breaking many hearts as he moved to top flight Stoke City. 2 years later fans part funded his return causing tearful elation amongst young football mad kids across the west country. Well, this one at least.
This song compares that elation with that of being in love.

You don't need to be a Bristol Rovers or even a football fan to understand the song and it's established itself as a live favourite with pubs and small venues once more reverberating to his name being sung. Also features the voice of the late, great, Roger Malone.

When Punky Came Back To The Gas

''The Ballad of Nancy Camel''


At the turn of the 18th Century,
By the foot of the Mendip Hills,
In the place that they call Sheeptown,
Was the deal of all deals,
Nancy Camel was her name,
And drinking was her game,
In a hovel off the market square,
She would put the men to shame,

Some say she was a banshee,
Some say she was a crone,
Because she never took a husband,
And cause she lived alone,
 
Nancy Camel, Nancy Camel, Nancy Camel,
 
They banished her from town,
When her drinking got no good,
She lived in a cave with her mule and cart under shelter of Ham Wood,
 
Some say she was a hag,
Some say she was a witch,
They said she rode with the devil,
And ended in Hell’s ditch,
 
Nancy Camel, Nancy Camel, Nancy Camel,
 
It was in the midst of Winter in 1703,
The month of November not long after Halloween,
A tempest was raging and sulpher filled the air,
The parish church it nearly fell into the market square,
The Devil was is Shepton,
And he was looking for his own,
He went straight to the woods and the cavern home,
Of the wizened old crone,
 
Some say she sold her soul,
Some say she made a pact,
That she was never seen again,
Remains the only fact
 
Nancy Camel, Nancy Camel, God rest you


Ballad of Nancy Camel by Rodney Allen

A true story about a woman's 15 year fight with Domestic Violence 

Poor Excuse for a man

Clarity

Inspired by the movies of Quintin Tarantino, Oak Ridge is an experimental house track. Minimalistic beats, with some voice sampling.

Oak Ridge

A song to celebrate Bristol's diversity and the heroes of the Bristol Bus boycott as well as to rail against "hostile environments", anti immigrant bigotry and the Windrush scandal. All wrapped up in a delibertely  cuturally appropriated reggae tinged bounce. "Cheers Drive!" , for  those outside the West Country & Wales, is the only grammatically  correct way to thank your bus driver when alighting at your stop. Everyone does that - right?!

Cheers Drive!

Aloneaphobe

Don't Cross Lake Avenue

Lefty toetapping folkabilly from the South West swamplands

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Cheers Drive!

John D Revelator

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