The Dead 60s, Concorde 2, Brighton, Tuesday 30th August
Liverpool calling to the faraway towns.
Now that war is declared and battle come down.
Liverpool calling to the underworld.
Come out of the cupboard, all you boys and girls.
Liverpool calling, now don't look at us.
All that phoney Clashmania has bitten the dust.
Liverpool calling to the imitation zone.
Forget it, brother, an' go it alone.
Dub-ska, ker-pop and ker plunk.
Games were better in the 70s, punk.
We're on Slogan's Run.
But don't worry:
Matt McManamon - shoutist - has a self-assurance policy.
Tons of swaggertude.
And self taut ferocity.
He is king of the leer.
But I want to cut the cordelia.
Take me out outtakes from Sandinista.
[Oh but that's just utter slander mister!]
Trojan horse dubplates.
Not so magnificent spinning templates.
Crashing down around our pork pie hats.
You are now entering the state of the bleeding obvious.
So please listen bleeding carefully:
Bleeding hearts on bleeding sleeves.
Bleeding noses on bleeding speed.
Bleeding power chords and bleeding poses.
Do you bleeding well want some?
Oh please! Oh pur-lease!
The Dead 60s; should we be grateful?
Should I stay or should I go?
Well get this:
Bangs calling, yeah, I was there, too.
An' you know what they said?
Well, some of it was true!
Bangs calling at the top of the dial.
After all this, won't you give me a smile?
I never felt so indisposed...
Cutting the crap