Album: EADGBE
Performed and programmed by Peter McCabe.
http://petermccabe.co.uk
© Peter McCabe

Where To Now?

Album: ROCK IS DEAD
Composed by Peter McCabe. 
http://petermccabe.co.uk
© Peter McCabe

Rock is Dead

Compassionata

Album: DISCONNECTED
Composed and performed by Peter McCabe.
http://petermccabe.co.uk
© Peter McCabe

Disconnected

Worms

Album: SOUND
Composed and performed by Peter McCabe.
http://petermccabe.co.uk
© Peter McCabe

Sound

Fire Storms

C*nt was said out of the blue into the black man, init gosh, golly-gosh I couldn’t imagine that so blue, so ray-de-far, so larr me dori green liquor in vain veins spurting copious marmalade supper all over Cumberbatch in Sherlock total grid lock. A pickled rhinoceros overdosed on penguin biscuits chatting wildly among liquorice flavours three. Hop, skip and rump can tantalise extreme vaginal rumbles unheard of in outer Mongolian fresco, Morrisons and numerous Lidl’s, Aldi’s and other quality establishments of dirty doings over the carpet of cosmic morality.

The unknown arsehole got lost exploring his own arsehole owing to unsubtle pains not of this universe or that universe or that universe serves to converse with aliens from this universe, or you don’t really like to smell what’s going on with this world and that shit, or that shit. Shit is shit, and life is a shovel. Once, there was massive explosions in Westminster politician arsehole lickers descending into the basement of Big Ben but who cares said St Stephen.

Chime by Orbital is circular and round like a mound of squares revolving, different to Belfast but still similar to Copenhagen. Huge bonfires caused sore anus adding to the context of big waves crashing against big ideas which in turn shatter existential society and games of Ludo. Existentiality caused me no end of, yeah, like, maybe my head’s combusting into wine glasses like totally fucking awesome wine in Nappa Valley with inane knitting needles of heroin, that delicious brown, yeah… but really life sucks until you stop sucking.

Dreading my painful exit from the garden centre behind the Sahara desert opposite ASDA which is deceptively small but huge by comparison to Sainsburys but tiny by and by. Monkey magic tickled Pigsy to sniff Charlie’s puckered arsehole which tilted, pushed up, oops, upside your furry bacon rind meaty fried lined tambourine playing behind the bike shed until we find filth in brine, swine swine swine, those dirty concubines of cheesecaked topped depravity reaching down the poverty line.

Beautiful beyond bowling alley McBeal’s perfect tits and disappointing vagina playing big balls unnecessary when playing marbles with John Major’s protruding and deceptively small asshole nuggets of Playdo which were stuck beside the point back to beautiful dead end shit.

Rainbows ended in brown Bungles death sadly red but yellow submarine sprung a leak all over the least expected of unexpected expectancies (Amitism) of midget gems of death resulting in death as Christ reborn and pickled Pape’s penis’s erecting huge tombs to lonely rooms snaking into wombs of curling pubes tuning into cubes which are square of semen flares!


Album: SOUND
Written by Fleshy Nib, Pippi Longstocking, Mr Fickle and The Power.
Narrated by The Power.
© The Writers

Fables: Owls Can Swim

Hello. Welcome to my SoundCloud channel.

The guitar is my instrument of choice (Fender Telecaster / Stratocaster, Gibson SG / J45) followed by the piano and jazz bass. I play by ear and feel. I’m self taught and not classically trained ~ I was discouraged from music at school for making too much racket.

To help realise ideas I've studied evening classes in music production (Apple Logic Pro X) and sound art installation. In the 90s I co-founded an indie/rock band ~ that all ended in epic failure but we did manage to beat Coldplay in a battle of the bands at their university. My (musical) mission for a long time has been to save the world from Coldplay ~ but I don’t think anyone can do that, not even Coldplay. 

I write and record at home, collaborate online, and jam with mates every now and then. Drop me a line if you’re interested in collaborating: enquires@petermccabe.co.uk

Pete McCabe