FILL's second LP. 
First Bomb of the Weekend

Again with the sideshow. Again with the racket. Walking into the field hoping for a sign but getting frostbite and losing my bearings. The sting and the rub appear via the scalpel ripping across the flesh of tomorrow’s dead. 

Give me not sweet home Chicago lest she gorges herself on the soul of poverty. Give me not Max’s field for it shall leave me cold, mud-soaked and sold to the highest bidder. Leave me alone, I got a job to do. I was eight years old and I cried when my mother told me. I found solidarity in a pack of Lucky Strikes on the floor of the bar. I found the current too strong but I still managed to float to the shore. I found the blessing and the curse amounted to the same thing. My ears hurt and I hear nothing. Lacan whispers vacuous ideas that point to the curtains but reveal, ultimately, nothing. I saw the clouds roll across the horizon and the rain saturate the money changers while the temples broke down into gold-dust manacles. I saw the children of the revolution fooled by nature’s simplicity. I saw the children and it broke my heart. 
All tracks performed, produced, engineered, mixed and mastered by PD Turnour © Control 2006 – 2010.
Recorded in the Red Room, Bellarine Peninsular, Australia 2006 – 2010.

All compositions by PD Turnour except Swim which was composed by John Le Bret, Matthew Palmer, Brian Retallick, PD Turnour and Ian Williams. © Control 2006 – 2010


12 Slumber

13 See It Through

Glorious Five Year Plan

Deluded? Maybe. Contended? Never. Focussed? Hardly. 

If a butterfly flaps its wings in Beijing, why the hell would I care? The distance between two points is something I can’t figure but the distance remains, nonetheless. The distance between Emily Dickinson and James Joyce remains, but I’ll drink to that. I signed up for The A Team but my dentist made me feel like I was eating breakfast with Truman Capote.  Now tomorrow, you are humble.  But I got some intimacy with the Blarney Stone. My next car will be Barbados Green and it will get me outta town when World War III kicks in. A Carlton sunset in spring is blinding but beautiful. Your wisdom depends on the sample size. Your wisdom depends on how much heartbreak you can absorb without breaking..  Istanbul, Barcelona, Curtin Street. But wake me when it’s over. Yeah, when World War III kicks in. All tracks performed, produced, engineered, mixed and mastered 
by PD Turnour © Control 2006 – 2010.
Recorded in the Red Room, Bellarine Peninsular, Australia 2006 – 2010.
All compositions by PD Turnour except Rosebud which was composed by John Le Bret, Matthew Palmer, Brian Retallick, PD Turnour and Ian Williams; Why This Town? which was written by Chris Pain and PD Turnour; Spiderwoman which was written by Nigel Cadzow and PD Turnour.



All tracks performed, produced, engineered, mixed and mastered 
by PD Turnour © Control 2006 – 2010.
Recorded in the Red Room, Bellarine Peninsular, Australia 2006 – 2010.
All compositions by PD Turnour except Rosebud which was composed by John Le Bret, Matthew Palmer, Brian Retallick, PD Turnour and Ian Williams; Why This Town? which was written by Chris Pain and PD Turnour; Spiderwoman which was written by Nigel Cadzow and PD Turnour.



01 Butterfly

02 Chainman

03 Love

04 Blanket

05 Rosebud

06 Rumbalara

07 Why This Town

08 Mountains Disappear

The stuff on this site is extracted from FOUR (count 'em!) LPs: Alcohol, Tobacco & Firearms; Glorious Five Year Plan, First Bomb of the Weekend and John Pitura Glut. It's all performed, produced and engineered by me and it's all written by me except for four old Raw Nerves tracks and two co-writes...

I've just finished what has been a four year project where I've been "refusing" to get anyone else to play on the songs, if only because I've got the arrangements in my head and it's too hard to impart them in the little snatches of time I get in the studio. 

The recording's been a wonderful, if solitary experience, 
..
Beyond this, I've started writing again but any "rock" will probably be more sticky fingers than bollocks. This is mainly a matter of choosing the right distortion pedal and closing the hi-hat every now and then but there'll be less of it, one way or the other. There will be more weirdness and pastoral pleasure and other musos, voices, generations and genders. The lyrics will be less FILL-o-centric and will have, as an abiding theme, the magic and wonder of the English language.


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