CAMDEN

RAGMAN

Aaaaaaaah ain't life sad

And everyone says

It's too late

The ship is wrecked

As if...

They know fate

An old utensil

That's had it's day

Your soul is scarred

And chipped away

What's that you say?

How soon we forget the past

Can't we salvage some remnant

And weren't the old things built to last

Down your street

Here comes the ragman

Buy some, want some, I'm your man

Here comes the ragman

so...

Can it still be of use

Mend it's wing

Turn it loose

Strip it down

Polish it right

Value it at twice the price

All this trash

It's well esteemed

And all of it

Can be redeemed

Hunt it down

To set it free

Their's not, their's not a scavenger like me...

Age starting to creep up, wondering where and who you are, what your place is on the land?

JELLY BABIES

His mind's

Pure jelly

We found him

This morning

Wandering around the quay

Wondering at what he could see

You've got to bring him down

Oh, real slow

And make him feel

that, maybe, there's somewhere to go

And all of those days

When you don't feel so sure

Bear the brunt of all those laws

Surely made for the poor

And woah, those raw vulnerable comedowns are starting to kick in now...

SLEEPY TIME DONALD

Sleepy Time Donald

Sleepy time, sleepy time

Sleepy Time Donald

Sleepy time, sleepy time

Always around

But never quite with us

Neither on, nor off, the bus

Sleepy Time Donald

He's a concorde junkie

Reaping Disney carnage

In his virtual world

Tonight...

Oh dear, indeed, it's not just the comedowns, things really starting to unravel now...

VILLAGE GURU

The debris of a smoke dopers token dream

In a timeless room down portreath

Whiled away the afternoons

Telling everyone you'd be leaving soon

Your chopping board

Your jar of sweets

All those other little treats

A Cornish village and everyone square

These are the things that marked your year

And such wisdom that you dispense

Stoned this afternoon

You know it makes sense

That you've never been anywhere at all

Really doesn't matter

Anymore...

But hey, why not just opt out for a while, For Stevie V and all the masters of cool minimal living and gradiose hallucinatory ideas i've ever known, from here to the Big Lebowski...

CASUAL

You were a lovely lad

You'll never be the same

A party invitation

Play the game

So you're hanging around

With a racy crowd

Acting flash

Talking loud

Pushing it

Perhaps

Got to stay up with the chaps

These are the cream of the crop

They're spinning you like a top

Market floor

Monthly pay

It never seemed to go all the way

It was an innocent kick at the time

How do you define crime

You were a lovely lad

You'll never be the same

One summer of love

Oh what a shame

You've been hanging around

With a racy crowd

Acting flash

Talking loud

On the way down

You're on the way down

On the other hand you could always opt for the token white male, late twenties, found dead in garbage bin behind Covent Garden Piazza with lap dancers card and season ticket for the Arse left behind in wallet role...or something

WELL YOU'VE MET THIS BOY

Well you've met this boy

And he's a DJ

And all

You're sat there all night

Just hoping he'll call

He's got this stint

With Manasseh too

And I bet he loves

Gussie Clarke

More than you

And your best friend is filled

With total remorse

You know she's partied all year

And flunked her course

Me I've grown my hair

I've gone to seed

You've had yours cut

Acquired a little need

God, your brother...

Got beat up at his job on friday

But we know first thing

He'll be back on monday

Clamping those cars down in Abbots Wood

It's the uniform

That makes him feel so good

And yeah last summer was such a laugh

Up all night drinking in the cafe

All that fun you were throwing it around

Happiness is not what you found

And then you find that you're nowhere at all

Always hoping some luck will call

All those nights out on the tiles

You can't even say where you've been

All the things that we've been through

Always in the same old crew

I know you slate me when i put it down

I still say, you should have left this town

Mannassah sound system used to have a great show on Kiss around this time, very late saturday night, early sunday morning. They'd play a lot of Prince Far I, Culture, Dr Alimontado and Johnny Clarke Sometimes we'd go and see the sound system as they played out around London. Awesome noise.

TRACKSUIT VENDETTA

Portending last night

I had a dream

A black police helicopter

Shining down it's batman beam

I froze like a startled Ridgelite

Caught up to no good

Bang to rights

Now dead cranes dangle

Broken necked

In the yards where every future is wrecked

Tracksuited criminals

Selling bad drugs

Calming down the ego's

Of temperamentalist thugs

in the quayside bars

All flashy cars

Five years behind

It's a state of mind

Isolation breeds

A strange state of mind

And all God's splendour

Lies somewhere later

Meanwhile...

On the other side of town

The new age gangsters

We're laying it down

Against the old wave pranksters

Who ran the show

A battered capri

Pulled up in the snow

It dumped...

Something shoddy onto the kerb

A seasoned vet I was sick and disturbed

Terror in a gilded cage

Headline in the paper

Turn the page

And it's forgotten

Yeah, I know...

This world...

It's rotten

And it's lurking, always lurking

these toerags thrive on useless vendettas

And somehow fate has decreed

That some people thrive

Whilst others bleed

These beggars

All lined up in the street

They get up my nose

And under my feet

Said some fattie

As he got into a car

Crossed himself

And headed for a bar

And a mother says...

My son?

'Eeeeeeh, there's not a bad bone in his body'

As he's been chased along the metro tracks

Perpetrator of another attack

And for sure it's another world

And you're insured

Then, things work out in time

But it's lurking

Always lurking

It breeds

And it feeds

Useless crime

Bides it's time

But it's lurking

Always lurking

It breeds

And it feeds

Useless crime

Bides it's time

Yeah, it's out there

And it don't care

And any day now

It will come for you

And all God's splendour

Lies somewhere

Later...

The Ridges was an insular estate of myth and lore that was rebranded the Meadowell by North Tyneside council. This was written just before the riots of the early nineties happened. In fact we were in Cabin with Paul, laying the track down, as it were as the festivities were on the news. The council later erected a statue of a ramraider in Northumberland Square in recognition of the millions in European Union grants their efforts brought to the region. It was later stolen and replaced by a CCTV pole. Bill wrote the music for this, a heavy one, as a band, to play live. A kind of rolling punk soul on the 8-8 beat.

CLAUDIA DREAMS

Claudia dreams

Of a future so neat

Just like a magic box of sweets

You take one out

Another appears

They'res always somebody to banish your fears

Knock down the old town

And everything there

Build a new skyline

With room to spare

Claudia lives in this film set

Hey, you've got to hold on

To what you can get

Claudia knows

A millionaire

A Millionaire

All burdened down with care

He's thinking of the day

When he must pass away

And leave that wealth behind

Me I have not any gold

Oh nothing to leave

When I grow old

Still I'll leave a

Precious will

Behind

When I say goodbye

For I know where I'm going

I can see you there and all

My spiritual home

It's the station

And I'm ready to leave

On a realm vacation

When skies turn blue

When dreams come true

If you wait awhile

If you bravely smile

On the other side of a big black cloud

Beyond all tears and care

On the other side of a big black cloud

Something glorious there.

There is a great Powell and Pressburger film called 'I know where I'm going' About a bright young woman from the right side of life who's future is mapped out and knows exactly what she wants, or rather she presumes she knows what she wants, anyway, she travels up north to the highlands to meet the husband of wealth and stability that she intends to spend her future with but somehow falls in with the wrong man, who turns out to be, ermm, the right man... a beautiful film of spirituality over substance made just after the war, when maybe such things mattered more. The words were mostly lifted off a hand coloured postcard of the time that was found in Camden Market. And from the endless journeying around Europe looking at modernist cityscapes on the horizon and just, wondering... Is there some kind of soul to be had out there?

MARVIN IN OSTENDE

Shiny black stretch

Limo in the rain

Bears someone whose time

Will come again

King in exile

The natives smile

Don't know quite what to say

To this man's claim...

'I'm Marvin Gaye'

'Ah... Chanson! Come on... give us a song!'

But the king doesn't feel like singing today

They return to their beers and Marvin...

Walks away

And later cruising bars

But not getting very far

'Hey, my man, won't you stop at that red light

You know I need something to kill the night

And uh... I need it right now

Oblivion will do me... anyhow

For I woke up this morning

The ugly North Sea dawning

Hey man, what a place to be

This crazy dude and me'

A misplaced soul caught up in a hole

But not for very long

No... not for very long

Do you think he is coming back?

Head messed up all mystic rune

But in his heart a fateful tune

That will exorcise this, exorcise this

Loneliness and fear

One day a crack will rip through the sky

A hand will reach down and lift you up

And you'll be born again

I say you'll be born again

Yeah...

You'll be born again

True story, one of the great stories, absolute legend finds himself in unmythical Belgian town. A benefactor who loved the guy's music put him up in his apartment above a chip shop. Away from his drug buddies and hangers on Marvin starts first training and then writing, he writes the awesome Sexual Healing which takes him back to the top of the charts and then brings back all the hangers on with the attendent problems. His father, a cross dressing preacher, shoots him a year later.

There was a pub in Stockwell, on what used to be the front line, on the estate where Hacker lives, with framed photos of Marvin on the wall, apparently he spent a great deal of wasted time pre-Ostende in this bar.

The pub is now a small conglomeration of yuppie flats

SOULSTRESS

She sings along

To the radio

For a boy who went

To Mexico

She sighs

Do I want

Far too much

And then am I

Afraid to touch

Emotion...

Held on a leash

Ooh..

A detailed peeriod piece

She pauses in the kitchen

As if posing for a portrait

Wonders just a moment

Then gives herself up

She's everything and everyone

Yeah!

All the generations rolled into one

And she'll let me talk all night

Hushing me that it's alright

And deep down

You know when she's hurt

Though never for a moment

Do you see the dirt

She wants revenge

Wouldn't know what to say

Her mind just does not work that way

She's everything and everyone

Yeah!

All the generations rolled into one

And she'll let me talk all night

Hushing me that it's alright

It's you

Yeah, yeah you...

All these songs were recorded at Cabin in Coventry with Paul. John turned this straight Casio workout into a touch of class, adding the half bar time changes. I think we sampled something from the Exorcist for the breakdown, and a snatch of a hardcore number that was popular at the likes of rezurrection at the time... Un-fucken-believable...

TRAFALGAR SQUARE

Everyone recalls

The fear in the air

I thought it mostly

In my head

Until one night

In Trafalgar Square

I was smacked cold

Blood everywhere

Oh what a mess

My Rifat Ozbek

Party dress

A minute's concern

A moments fuss

Then everyone turned towards

The all night bus

You'd never felt so alone

The courage it takes

To make that vow

You're a fully fledged woman

Anyhow...

Remember one day...

The family were away

You dressed up...

And knew you'd stay

Just the way...

You ought to be...

Forever...

And to do the things...

You ought to do...

Even though the climate isn't you...

Just be strong...

You know...

It won't be wrong...

I'm certain!

You'd never felt so alone

The courage it takes

To make that vow

You're a fully fledged woman

Ain't you now!

Was stood with the writer Don Watson and his prison guard cousin at the all night bus stop in Trafalgar Square at about five one morning, we'd been drinking in that Lesbian Bar in Hanway Street, Helen of Troy's, a LOT of drink, Don disapeared and his cousin tried to pull me on a bus with her... heard a thud and turned around and a thug was stood over a tranny who was shaking on the pavement, a trickle of blood on the pavement, i staggered over as did a few other, shocked disgusted folk. The thug walked off muttering curses and oaths. We pulled the tranny to her feet, her nose was broken, blood staining a beautiful designer gown. She was quite beautiful herself. It was an ugly moment. That night I turned the television on and there was a documentary on Carolyn Cossey the transgender model. She cut through all the crap and the sensationalism with a dignity to aspire too. I think of Boo always when this song is played out. Boo forever, yeah.

IT'S LOVEBITE CITY

It's lovebite city

The bedroom posse

Are waiting for a namecheck on...

WIRED FM

Here's to those...

Who've read the book

Move that way

Have that look

Don't step beyond those lines

You'll be fine

You and your sister

Well cocooned

Won't come out the house

You both look

On the moon

Bruises on her neck

Her arms, her chest

You know you should give

Those loving pills a rest

Don't step beyond those lines

You'll be fine

And I'm waiting on

My favourite song

'Blah, blah de blah'

You know the one

it says...

'You can take the boy out of the town

But...

You can't take the town out of the boy

Says he...

I've seen that, I've been there

Oh I don't really care

It's as cosy indoors, matey!

As anywhere...'

It's videoland

It's lovebite city

Everything's stashed

And I'm just chilling

On a wealth of hatred

A fear of spaces

An inbred vibe

The same known faces

Don't step beyond those lines

You'll be fine...

The birth of the sink estate, the death of imagination, the rise of the love of the self and the easy glut of choice to be had, the end of everything anyone with half a mind could ever aspire to, these are the inhabitants of the Tracksuit Vendetta landscape not just shamefully betrayed and forgotten but disgracefully scapegoated to boot.

A TOWN IN EVERY GIRL

Scabbed husk of a lover

Dried and nailed to the wall

Vintage bottled pain

When Alan left Elaine

She w as a shell of a thing

That worked through til Spring

But...

As flowers bloom

She painted her room

Let it out and was gone

And then...

Stranded in Rome

She was soon sick for home

Scars she'd collected

Like...

Souveneirs

She finally broke

In the lonely shade

Of a coffee shop

That year

Remembering the fountain

Where it used to be

And...

'Oh what that mean't to you and me'

When Elaine met with Alan

At a party that fall

She knew then and there

There'd be nowhere else at all

And oh all those landmarks

Of days gone by

Just like the old soldiers

Who come home to die

She said...

I've been around the world

I've been around the world

And I know there's a town in every girl

And in every one a story

And in every one a past

There's a town in every girl with dreams fading fast.

Here's the opposite to the nomarks of Lovebite City, here's someone who's not content with her crappy surroundings, who has inklings still of such old fashioned notions as beauty and grace and a spirit of adventure, wants to find out what's going on out there in the world, even if she is dragged inevitably back to her roots.

PATIENCE OF A SAINT

And oh, the changing of the guards

For a while now

Been on the cards

You've a way

Of seeing things

Not everyone would agree

You stood by me

Through thick and thin

And you know the states I've been in

And all those plans

Shoved in the bin

I promised you

Oh how I've sinned

It's not that I

Don't really care

It's just my way

Of getting through

This nightmare

I know, know, know, know, know...

You would have done things differently

Me, me, me...

I'd faint

You've the patience of a saint

I'm just another

Piece of debris

Clogging up the city

Who'd do something silly

When life treat him dirty

You, you'd wait

Until time saw your point of view

Well times like this

I wish

I was you

Still do an'all. A London Thing, is it?

LONELY COTTAGE BY THE SHORE

I'd love you

To come down

And play

In my garden

The station looks grey by day

But at night it lights up

Like an ocean liner

And I know we could sail away

That would make my day

If I knew we...

Could sail away

Until there's just sea and sky and emptiness...

Derek Jarman has, still, an old reconditioned fishermans hut, on the desolate windswept shore of Dungeness, around the hut he created a beautiful garden from out of the stony unyeilding ground. The garden is maintained to this day by friends and benefactors. All around you, as you stand in his garden, are upturned boats and washed up netting and bladderwrack, a single line railway system takes you to an almost deserted cafe that sits in the shadow of the nuclear power station, they do a good cup of tea, Mars Bars, Walkers Cheese and Onion crisps, good Formica table tops, Gulls are swept along out there on the horizon, a stray ferry lights up as it makes for the channel. You feel like you are at the end of the world.The cafe is a million miles away from today. England at its best.

A FINE TIME TO BE ALIVE

Mr Surro rose later than usual

Mr Surro was pale, autumnal

Mr Surro rolled on his side

Should he bother, he couldn't decide

'I'm just another number...

I don't think I'll go to work today

The sun is shining and the job doesn't pay'

He'd lay an imprint of his diary

Inside the nation's psyche,

And it's a fine time to be alive!

Mr Surro took a tram downtown

To where the action was renowned

To all the ends of all the worlds

And in this bar he found his pearl

'I felt great this morning

It was such a funny feeling

And it's a fine time to be alive'

Mr Surro rose later than usual

The sun was pale, autumnal

Mr Surro took a peep outside

He had this urge it couldn't be denied

And it's a fine time to be alive

Yeah it's a fine time to be alive

The rain had stopped and the streets were full

Mr Surro pulled out his gun

A rat tat tat, tattattattat, a rat a tat tat, tattattattat....

Finnish civil servant with twin obsessions of Mishima and Stooges expresses himself in shopping mall

BREAK THE SPELL

Break the spell

Shake the trance

If it don't happen now

There won't be

Another chance

I don't care how

Or when or where

Just name the day

And I'll be there

Keep putting it off

Soon come the date

I'll fire all those notions

You'll know fate

In time

Everything comes around

I'll buy this place

And I'll burn it

To the ground...

Yeah, burn it to the ground...

Often used to rehearse all night in the Diorama, we would play this for hours, driven by Chris's violin