TAKE IT AWAY The bandleader’s wife and their little boy Listening to the wireless set in the lounge, when she says ‘Son... You’re six years old and your Father and I Think it’s time you learned music like him. Won’t that be fun.’ But when the child sees the new piano He turns round and he starts to run. (He says...) Take it away. Take it away. Take it away. Mummy no. Mummy please, Mummy, take it away. Take it away. Take it away. Take it away. Mummy no. Mummy please, Mummy, take it away. Twelve years hard work later he’s in music college, And he’s got a strange look behind his eyes. But in the big competition, He play that Second Tchaikovsky Concerto so well, he win the prize. But as they’re handing him the silver trophy, He jumps up and suddenly cries... ‘Take it away. Take it away. Take it away. I can’t stand any more, won’t you take it away. Take it away. Take it away. Take it away. Mummy no. Mummy please, Mummy, take it away.’ So they send him down to the Tavistock Clinic Where they try to find out the cause of his attack. And his friends all tell him ‘You’ve been given a wonderful gift, And if you think about that, things won’t seem so black’. But he says ‘It’s not much of a gift If they won’t let you send the thing back. ‘Take it away. Take it away. Take it away. I can’t stand any more, won’t you take it away. Take it away. Take it away. Take it away. Mummy no. Mummy please, Mummy, take it away.’ ‘If a man were permitted to make all the ballads of a nation, he need not care who should make the laws’. Andrew Fletcher, 1703 ‘It is the best of all trades to make songs, and the second best to sing them.’ Hilaire Belloc, 1909. ‘Rock’n’roll you wrecked my life. You’re a beautiful mistress, but a pig of a wife.’ Judge Smith, 1978. You should see him now, he’s got a contract with Sony And a Garage album in the charts. He’s really grand. He’s got a six piece group and an Entourage, But his girlfriend says he’s really hard to understand. She should listen to the words he whispers Each time he strikes up the band. ‘Take it away. Take it away. Take it away. I can’t stand any more, won’t you take it away. Take it away. Take it away. Take it away. Mummy no. Mummy please, Mummy, take it away.’

CARPET TILES The redundancy scheme Was linked to his salary; A good few bob A chance to set upon his own. And they'd make a good team, Raymond and Valerie. He’d do the job, She’d do the books and man the phone. They made wonderful plans. Took a lock-up garage, Filled it to the doors With bankrupt stock they bought at auction. They had a nice Luton van. On each side written quite large, It said ‘RayVal Floors. You've seen the rest, but we're the best... For Carpet Tiles. Estimates free for our Carpet Tiles, Hard-wearing Wiltons in several styles. No VAT on our Carpet Tiles. From ten pounds a metre.’ He’s a nice little chap And he’s doing his best, Working late each night But orders just aren’t coming through. Val sits on his lap She says ‘Don’t get depressed, It will be all right, ‘Cos I believe in you... And in those Carpet Tiles; People will always need Carpet Tiles.’ Now look at him go; he’s all teeth and smiles. He’s going to sell you some Carpet Tiles, For eight pounds a metre. He jokes about sales staying on the floor But the house is security On the loan; The ‘Caring Bank took care of that.. And when he asks them for more They demand a fresh guarantee. What else do you own? Then they wonder what he’s laughing at. He says ‘Carpet Tiles All I’ve got left is the Carpet Tiles. Take some of them, I’ve got miles and miles; Carpet the whole bleeding British Isles At five pounds a metre.’ He thinks of Val’s face And he gets out the file The one on insurance. He reads through the Policy Three o’clock in the morning He gets in the van. He drives to the lock-up He takes out the matches... Messrs Jobson and Lock Licensed Valuers and Auctioneers, Suggest our sale For business opportunities. We have fire damaged stock Just perfect for new careers. You couldn’t fail With Lot 13 for instance which is... Carpet Tiles, Two metric tons of new Carpet Tiles Early inspection would be worthwhile; Executive quality Carpet Tiles Worth twelve pounds a metre. Carpet Tiles, Simple to lay and so versatile Featuring guaranteed flame-proof pile. Now what am I bid for these Carpet Tiles? Can I hear two pounds a metre?

I WANT SOME OF IT Some people have the gift, I swear Of making money from thin air. It’s not as if they need it, They just like to breed it, They like having it there. I suppose it wasn’t tactful I asked for one small sack-full But they don’t like to share. And I said... I want some of it. I want some of it. I want some of it. I want some of it. I want some of it. I want some of it. If it’s all the same to you. I want some of it. I want some of it. I want some of it. I want some of it. I want some of it. I want some of it Too. They called their private club ‘G8’ They had the whole world on a plate, And when they lost their tempers The poor non-members Just had to wait. And when they had their meetings, They ignored the bleatings From outside the gate. And they said... We want some of it. We want some of it. We want some of it. We want some of it. We want some of it. We want some of it. If it’s all the same to you. We want some of it. We want some of it. We want some of it. We want some of it. We want some of it. We want some of it Too. Ten thousand fields of standing wheat That people would be glad to eat, Just an over-production blunder So they ploughed it all back under Their feet. But as the wind was shifting, Angry sounds came drifting Up from the street. ‘Cos... They want some of it. They want some of it. They want some of it. They want some of it. They want some of it. They want some of it If it’s all the same to you. They want some of it. They want some of it. They want some of it. They want some of it. They want some of it. They want some of it. Too. (They want some of it too.) We want some of it. We want some of it. We want some of it. We want some of it. We want some of it. We want some of it. If it’s all the same to you. We want some of it. We want some of it. We want some of it too.

CHRIS DOES IT BETTER I went to see the Sphinx By her pyramid, And did I wonder what see thinks? Well of course I did. Enigmas turn me on I like to be nonplussed. But when I got up close, I said ‘Come on... This girl is just so obvious.’ And Chris does it better... You haven’t seen Christine. Yes Chris does it better... You haven’t seen Christine. Reticence is a noble art, That’s what I believe, And I don’t care to wear my heart On my record sleeve. But when it comes to keeping shtum, Being silent and serene, She’d make a Trappist nun Sound like a PR Consultant on benzedrine... Chris does it better... You haven’t seen Christine. Chris does it better... You haven’t seen Christine. I went to see the show With that superstar. Black fishnets torn just so, And a leather bra. She did her sexy stuff Rolling round the floor. I’d soon had quite enough, But as I left, they asked what for. I said Chris does it better... You haven’t seen Christine. Chris does it better... You haven’t seen Christine Christine...Christine...

NOT DROWNING BUT WAVING She says she can’t sleep on her own. She means that she can’t leave men alone. So Des and Den and Nige and Bri All spend her money and make her cry. Her lovers come and go too fast, Each more unsuitable than the last. Her friends think she is all at sea. They speak of rescue and tragedy. Don’t they understand She don’t need saving. She’s not far from land Not drowning but waving. George couldn’t cope with being adult And so he joined a religious cult. He knows the guru’s always right And he only sleeps for four hours a night. He sells the pamphlets, eats the rice, A happy certainty in his eyes. His mother’s hired a special man And they’ll deprogram him if they can. Hey, Ma...Though your boy’s jumped ship He don’t need saving. Just taking a dip, Not drowning but waving... They don’t need saving... Not drowning but waving... Scotch whiskey was the thing for Jim. He said it thoroughly suited him. He found it kept the world away So he drank a pint-and-a-half each day. We all grew worried for his health. We said “You must not destroy yourself.” But when he hears that kind of thing He jumps on the table, raises his glass, And then he starts to sing. And he says... Please don’t man the boat, I don’t need saving. I keep well afloat, Not drowning but waving. Don’t they understand, I say we don’t need saving. We’re not far from land, We’re not drowning but waving.

SEEMED SUCH A NICE BOY She had some good O levels And she was seventeen And he sold double-glazing Always looked neat and clean. Each night he’d come around to take her out And in his mother’s spare-room showed her Just what life was all about. No one was too surprised To learn a child was on its way. They chose a ring together Named an early wedding-day. The church was full when there arrived the telegram that read ‘I’ve gone abroad. Stop. The wedding’s off. Stop’ That’s when her mother said... Seemed such a nice boy Seemed like a real nice kind of boy Seemed such a nice boy at the time Seemed such a nice boy Seemed like a real nice kind of boy Seemed such a nice boy at the time George made a pile in textiles His hair was silver-grey Collected Meissen china And was discretely gay. He met a young man who’d been sleeping rough Said he didn’t want his money Said his friendship was enough. The boy moved in and made The great big house a happy home. George went to work each morning Left the lad there on his own. Came back one night to find the front door open And all the lights turned on And the boy, twelve hundred pounds And all his precious porcelain gone (and he said...) Seemed such a nice boy Seemed like a real nice kind of boy Seemed such a nice boy at the time Seemed such a nice boy Seemed like a real nice kind of boy Seemed such a nice boy at the time Oh the heartache when we realise Charming people have told charming lies. We’re sadder now but does that make us wise? He spoke to us on TV In words we’d understand. Made other politicians Look cheap and underhand. He looked so young and yet so unafraid. The country voted in a landslide Now we’d see some changes made. We didn’t understand his reasons For the foreign war And when the kids protested He brought in martial law. Though six black years have passed we still ask why And from behind the wire and searchlights Comes the terrible reply... Seemed such a nice boy Seemed like a real nice kind of boy Seemed such a nice boy at the time Seemed such a nice boy Seemed like a real nice kind of boy Seemed such a nice boy at the time

ADVANCE THE SPARK Advance the spark Put pedal to the metal The gale blows, but let’s hoist all the sails. Advance the spark Tie down the governor This rocket-sled has left the rails. Advance the spark Burn rubber on the speedway The aircraft shakes, full-throttle in the shallow dive. Advance the spark Tie down the governor And no one’s coming out alive. I should have known, once I was moving I should have known I’d get the taste I should have known I’d soon be living For the wind in my face. I should have known I’d fall in love I should have known I’d do it fast I should have known there’d be a problem You’re built for speed, I’m built to last. Advance the spark But I can’t hold her, Captain Warp 9.5, the core is going to blow. Advance the spark Tie down the governor Let’s see how fast this thing will go. Advance the spark The Cresta run is waiting And Houston’s Go for main stage engine start. Advance the spark And throw the stopwatch away There’s nothing faster than the heart. I should have known, once I was moving I should have known I’d get the taste I should have known I’d soon be living For that look on your face. I should have known I’d fall in love I should have known I’d do it fast I should have known there’d be a problem You’re built for speed, I’m built to last. Advance the spark Your spark comes back to meet me The petrol washes all around the cockpit floor. Advance the spark The kiss, the conflagration And nothing matters Nothing matters And nothing matters any more.

LIKE A ROCK I can’t believe that I could have been so foolish So very wrong about important things When somebody upstairs sent me an Angel All I could do was pull the feathers from her wings. I can’t believe that I might have been unfaithful I need someone else the way I need a comb. Why should I want a swig of Coca-Cola When I’ve got Bollinger champagne on ice at home? And so I try to love you like a rock And so I try to love you like a stone ‘Cause rocks and stones don’t take positions And don’t impose conditions of their own. All I can do is love you like a rock Or something made of glass and stainless-steel Something transparent and unending That’s not always depending On what you do, or how I feel. I can’t explain why we should be still together The omens weren’t too good, you must agree. You’re not my type, you’re just a bit too clever, And heaven only knows what you can see in me. I don’t exude an attractive air of mystery Don’t have the beauty and the power that go with youth. The days when those were mine are ancient history, And I never was that beautiful to tell the truth. But I can always love you like a rock But I can always love you like a stone ‘Cause rocks and stones don’t take positions And don’t impose conditions of their own. All I can do is love you like a rock Or something made of glass and stainless-steel Something transparent and unending That’s not always depending On what you do, or how I feel.

TELL ME YOU LOVE ME And though We know Exactly what we want to say. The words When they emerge Don’t quite come out that way. The language circuit doesn’t work too good, No wonder we all think that we’re misunderstood. So tell me you love me But tell me again in French, Now in a Welsh accent. Say it in Maggie Smith’s voice Then say it like Judi Dench, Tell me you love me. And then Just when Our message should have hit the mark, I fear It’s all too clear We’ve left them in the dark The thing that’s said is not the thing that’s heard, That’s the trouble with the spoken word. So tell me you love me But tell me again in Dutch, Shout it in Swedish, Whisper it in Norwegian, I like that one very much, Tell me you love me. Plug in your Modem, Select your transmit mode, Give us a handshake. Tell me in Fortran, tell me in Basic, Tell me in Binary Code, Tell me you love me. And on The words have gone All meaning long since lost. Yes Squire, We’ve got our wires Spectacularly crossed. It read ‘Send reinforcements, we’re going to advance’. You said ‘Send three-and-fourpence, we’re going to a dance’. So tell me you love me But tell me again in Greek, Ancient or Modern, Demotiki or Katharevousa, I don’t care which one you speak, Just tell me you love me. Tell me in Chinese And while we still have the chance, Talk in Tibetan. Say it in Zulu, say it in Xhosa, Say it in Afrikaans, Tell me you love me. Buzz me in Morse Code, Flash me in Heliograph, Flag me a signal. Will you try it in Esperanto If I promise not to laugh? Tell me you love me.

WE’LL ALWAYS HAVE PARIS Are you packed? Have you got everything? I don’t want to find little bits of you Hidden all around the place. No little bottle in the bathroom with the Active Lipizomes And finding one of your ratty sports-bra’s Under the sofa in six months time Would be too much for me to deal with. Don’t go. I know, I know we’ve been all through this But when push comes to shove it’s bloody hard letting go of you. This isn’t light and controlled, like we said it would be, I’m holding on to you so tight that when the taxi comes We’re gonna have to cut my hands off at the wrist. Who knows, you husband may have fallen under a bus... Ok, I’m sorry. I’m sure he must be a good chap. But it seems to me that living your life Entirely for other people Is as bad and wrong as living your life Entirely for yourself... Yes, you’re right, no letters No cards, no phone calls either This thing must end here... But suppose he runs off with his blonde twenty-two-year-old secretary You know what to do, just jump on the plane and come back to me. Bring the kids, bring that cats, bring the whole damn shooting-match Your dear old, silver-haired, Lithuanian granny as well. You’ll know where I’ll be. What’s he say in the film? ‘We’ll always have Paris’. Don’t cry. You never cry, you told me. Now is that the same one where she says ‘Don’t reach for the moon, we have the stars’? You’re right, that was Bette Davis... Oh Christ, the taxi’s here...

IT’S THE SILENCE THAT KILLS YOU We were Service, d’you see? Follow orders; don’t make waves Keep your eyes on your duty We survived the War And now we’re hopelessly, helplessly, hideously brave. Anything else would be letting the side down Anything else was never discussed Anything else was the unspeakable thing The final taboo... It’s the silence that kills you Don’t break the silence. It’s the silence that kills you Don’t break the silence. Don’t break the silence. We were Service, don’t y’know? Stick together; don’t tell tails. But we were haunted by heroes. Why are we still here? And so we’re fearlessly, foolishly, effortlessly bold. Anything else would be letting the side down Anything else was never discussed Anything else was the unspeakable thing The final taboo... It’s the silence that kills you Don’t break the silence. It’s the silence that kills you Don’t break the silence. It’s the silence that kills you Don’t break the silence. Don’t break the silence. Don’t break...

BUT IS IT ART? Sampled drum loops like this are referred to as ‘beats’ And you can use them straight out of the box. This fake stuff often sounds lifeless and dull, But just occasionally it rocks And originally, someone must have hit those drums Maybe ten, maybe twenty years back, Some anonymous, hard-working session player In a cheap Los Angeles twenty-four track. Perhaps the technology brings things together, Or perhaps the technology splits them apart, But I swear I can hear that drummer laughing. He says ‘It’s clever, but is it art?’ It’s clever, but is it art? But the rest of the drumming on this record Comes from a human pair of hands, René Van Commenée, who recorded his tracks In Utrecht, in the Netherlands. And Michael keeps his organs and accordions and so forth More than fifty miles away, So he’s recorded all his stuff over there. It’s how a lot of music’s done today. I don’t have some post-modern structural agenda. I’m not having a bit of conceptual fun, It’s just that given the time, and given the budget This is just how things came to be done. (But it made me think...) So did this technology bring us together, Or did this technology keep us apart? The devil sat on my shoulder and whispered ‘It’s clever, but is it art?’ It’s clever, but is it art? Only Fury’s here in the studio with me, Two grumpy old men rocking out. But look! He’s still playing the bass, but now he’s got his guitar. I mean... Jesus! What’s that all about? All music’s done with smoke and mirrors, It’s truths always come with a dash of deceit. Mozart’s got more tricks than a barrel of monkeys Even Bach and Beethoven cheat. But do the smoke and mirrors bring the music together, Or do the monkey tricks blow the music apart? And the music critics in their powdered wigs said ‘It’s clever, but is it art?’ It’s clever, but is it art? Is it effortless trash, or honest endeavour? Is it one off the wrist, or one from the heart? These are serious, pertinent questions, But you just know some fool’s gonna start with ‘It’s clever, but is it art?’ My studio computer was built in Korea, The OS comes from the USA While my software is splendidly German In a ‘Vorsprung durch Technic’ kind of way. And whether we can bring the whole world together, Or we finally manage to crack it apart, In a thousand years, they’ll define us By the fragments of what we call art, The clever stuff that we call art.