not it

by nev clay

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06:35
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04:49
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01:33
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04:56
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04:49
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04:50
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06:45
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03:36

credits

released April 14, 1999

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about

nev clay Newcastle, UK

nev lives near newcastle and is a mental health nurse. he's been clarting around the local music scene for 24 years, and once supported keith emerson. secret guitar tuning: CGDGAD

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Track Name: song called "song"
She wrote a song called "song, it said all I have to say. Now it's all I listen to, I can give my other songs away. It stole my reason to create, to search for that elusive rhyme; she pulled a song out of her head and carved it into mine. She wrote a song called "song", some DJ played it yesterday. I've lived without it for so long, now it'll never go away. She knows exactly how it feels to have to deal with the unreal, and now I know where I belong - she wrote a song called "song"
Track Name: long term loan
Brilliance and stupidity are never really your own. You'll have to give them back one day - call it a long-term loan. The face that launched a thousand ferries, the voice that called them home - you'll have to give them back one day: call it a long-term loan. Feelings say they're going to stay forever, then feelings go. If you can find a heart here you can have it - call it a long-term loan.
Track Name: flowerbed
Her ears selectively open, her eyes selectively closed, her heart sporadically broken; her mind, only god knows. Her clothes from Mencap and Oxfam, womens' health tips from Cosmo and Marie Clare, her face from her mother and her father; her mind, she pulled from nowhere. Apparently she sleeps with her mouth open, and sometimes she walks with her arms crossed. She's not walking towards, or walking away from. She's not searching for, and she's not lost. How does the world look through her contact lenses? How do her teeth feel to her tongue? How does her skin feel to her fingers? How does her brain feel in her skull? I'm going to sit on this bench and not stand up until I've smoked this packet of tabs, and then I'm going to eat chips in a graveyard and throw the paper into a flowerbed.
Track Name: flesh on the bone
Show me a surgeon with a knife and a smile who can patch up this sinking ship for a while, and I'll show you someone who's already been shown your Kylies and Danniis are just flesh on the bone. And I would have disembowelled myself for a taste, to gaze forever on your curious face, but all you can promise me is that you'll get old, and your lovely freckles are just flesh on the bone. Show me a monkey and I'll show you a man: once on a ventilator, once in a pram, number two haircut and a voice like a drone, handcuffed and haunted by the flesh on your bones. .
Track Name: candle
Round here you hear the sirens more often than ice-cream vans. After a while it's reassuring in a scary sort of way. Oh, look! there's an aeroplane flashing a semaphore "0" like a curse, high above the empty shopping centre car park. I lit a candle for you, woke up in the dark. It's nothing dramatic, it's just that I was raised to be Joe 90, and there were never any women like you in his brainy little adventures.
Track Name: be my guest
There are some women who get paid to take their clothes off and be photographed. They do it for the squaddies and the prisoners so they won't feel lonely in their trenches and cells. It didn't work, but thanks for trying. Now you can put your clothes back on - be my guest.
Track Name: not it
a kid on the Metro sees a police helicopter, and says to his mother "a flying pig!" - and you've found another jewel in the dustbin of the world. These maisonettes and towers have seen better days, like the peopel and pets that still live in them, and if I ruled the world, we'd have a palace each. I want to protect you from being protected, I want to save you from being saved. I want to hold you back from being held back. I want the best for you, and I'm not it.
Track Name: beautiful distraction
Oh wasn't that a beautiful distraction, dear? ACAB in white gloss paint on a bus stop. For thirteen days I understood the value of self-delusion. The skeleton of a pushchair on the railings. For thirteen days I really thought this sack of dust was full of diamonds.
Track Name: all ears
Thankyou for listening, or at least for not talking much. I know you're doing the best that you can. One eye on the barmaid, one ear on the jukebox, thanks for your divided attention. And thanks for sharing your self-obsession, your tragic perception of what really counts, while behind my glasses I'm writing these lyrics - you have my divided attention.
Track Name: dream on
are you tired of being tired, are you weary of weariness? is a stranger waiting in the wings with the secret of happiness? and will they have the answer that eludes you every night? and this time, will the answer make it right? Are you getting sick of the hangovers that your pocket-money buys, but still looking for validation in another pair of eyes? if a reservoir of lager couldn't fill the hole inside, will one more all-day piss-up turn the tide? I hope all your little wishes come true and set you free, so you've nothing wlse to hope for, no-one else you'd rather be. I hope your prayers are answered by the fickle god you serve, I hope you get what you deserve. Dream on, I won't wake you, dream on.
Track Name: surface
A German Shepherd is chasing pages from an Argos catalogue over the school field. Its enthusiasm for the ordinary makes me feel ancient. About once a week, men in orange jackets empty the binbags from the metal cupboards. Cards and wrapping paper spill onto the pavement: "Happy birthday to a special grandson". Hey advertisers, your shitty commercails have earned yo all a long stay in Hell, and I turn the sound down and change the channel when they come on - just so you know. Home Secretary, we need another statute to stop the charvers from throwing bangers. Dock a pound a week off their dads' Jobseekers - that'll fix it (in your dreams). In a hundred years they'll pay to visit a Beamish reconstruction of this shopping centre, with loving attention paid to every detail, each scribbled swearword on the ramraid shutters. I know your surface bears no resemblance to the interior I'll never know. Oh, you're beautiful, but I still like you. It's unexpected, but now you know.
Track Name: we both won
a bloke on a gameshow is struggling with a laughable question a toddler could answer. It's a competition without any prizes - a million to one. You've got a new boyfriend, I've got a new flat. You kept the phone number, I kept the cat... like a competition without any prizes, let's see what we won. A kid and his grandad are holding hands. They're having a slow race down Metro stairs. I pass them halfway, then hear the kid say "we both won".