And finally, liberalism triumphed. We are convinced, everyone is convinced. Turn on the television, leave the house, consume (consuming oneself), accept (discriminating oneself) and finally hum (declaring oneself)… a triumph of insubstantial certainties on which to build buildings for popular use in an unpopular way, to improve society through the "magic" of glossy and installment-based hope. When these thoughts start to bounce festively in my mind, I immediately see to calm them by thinking of Junk Yard by the Birthday Party. Nothing more sedative on these occasions appears to equal the disastrous warbles, the nauseating high notes, and the shrill clangs of Nick Cave's primordial band. Yes, because only by contemplating in a detached and calm manner what are the verbal-sonic insults to which one subjects oneself, once listening begins, can one avidly affirm to feel on the side of a squalid reason whereby a sneering and macabre world offers us the only way to salvation: self-derision. Any proof?
1 - From the beginning, "Blast Off" is slaughter meat explicitly subjectable to bourgeois eardrums for unimaginable purposes of some causes.
2 - The laughably masterful "She's Hit," which resonates in sodden reverberations, as a parody of the purest love, mercilessly mocked.
3 - A sinister march at a brisk pace in honor of "Dead Joe," neurotic enough to call it quits (seriously).
4 - "The Dim Locator" + "Hamlet(POW, POW, POW)" is a double tragicomedy with an unbridled and catacombal blues rhythm that is unmatched by anything else.
5 - The desecrating and exasperating religiosity embodied by "Several Sins" and "Big Jesus Trash Can," which allow the forgetting of arcane entities in a world made of cheeseburgers and anti-aging cancerous creams.
6 - An endless parade of sonic tortures, inflicted orally with the respective condolences of "Kiss Me Black," "6" Gold Blade," "Kewpie Doll," and "Junkyard," learned just in time to re-endure a "Dead Joe" remixed properly to hurt even more.
7 - The concluding "Release The Bats," unrestrained and shameless in its abuses of groove and morgue blues.
The Birthday Party, in other words, a successful and absolutely unique post-punk/blues/new wave transplant, distinct from the funky-shit made in the 80s and located in an Australia halfway between San Francisco and Bratislava: Melbourne. Traces of this type of insemination can be distinctly found in claustrophobic bands like Scratch Acid, Jesus Lizard, Rapeman, and the very-very-very early Nirvana. Trusting in your intelligence, I would advise against listening during happy and intimate birthday parties.
Tracklist Lyrics and Samples
01 She's Hit (06:06)
there is woman - pie in here
mr. evangelist says she's hit
the best cook ya ever had
ya can't blame the good woman now, dad
and ya locked him up for twenty years
now there's action on the basement stairs now
a monster half-man half-beast grind
hear the hatchet (grind grind)
the pilgrim gets one hacked daughter
and all we get are forty hack reporters
uptown one hundred skirts are bleeding
and mr. evangelist says
she's hit ev'ry little bit
she's hit ev'ry little bit
she's hit ev'ry little bit
she's hit she's hit she's hit she's hit
now if only we could all grow wings and fly
sweet hatchet SWING low son
I'm feeling mighty lonesome
christen the bastard jack dad
the head-shrinker is a quack
anyone 'anyone who'd wear their hair like that'
the vinyl is so cool but the conversation's cruel
hold my head romeo it's in a rodeo
hold my heart daddy-o it just won't go-o-o-o
hold my heart romeo it's in a rodeo
hold my head daddy-o it just won't go-o-o-o
and all the girls across the world
and all the girls across the world
are hit ev'ry little bit
she's hit ev'ry little bit
she's hit ev'ry little bit
she's hit ev'ry little bit
she's hit she's hit she's hit she's hit
and she won't get up
she's hit ev'ry little bit she's hit
she's hit she's hit she's hit yeah
she's hit she's hit she's hit
and she won't get up! and she's hit she's hit
she's hit ev'ry little bit
she's hit she's hit she's hit
goodbye.
02 Dead Joe (03:09)
Dead Joe Joe... Joe Joe
oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho Dead Joe
oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho Dead Joe
welcome to the car smash
welcome to the car smash
welcome to the car smash
a-a-a-a-a-smash
Dead Joe
Junk-Sculpture turning back to JUNK
Junk-Sculpture turning back to JUNK
Junk-Sculpture turning back to JUNK
ju-ju-ju-ju-junk
Dead Joe
oh Joe no-o-o-o-o-o! it's christmas time Joe
it's christmans time now for you
and all the little bells are hanging two-by-two
the holly and the nativity
oh speak to me Joe speak to me Joe speak to me oh
oh-oh-oh---oh--oh--oh--oh--oh--oh--oh
De-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e--e-e-e-ead Joe
oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho Dead Joe
oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho Dead Joe
welcome to the car smash
welcome to the car smash
welcome to the car crash
you can't tell the girls from the boys anymore
you can't tell the girls from the boys anymore
you can't tell the girls from the boys anymore
you can't tell the girls from the boys anymore
ho-Oh-Oh-OH-Oh-Oh---Oh--Oh--Oh---Oh---Oh---Oh
De-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e---e-e-e-e-ead Joe.
03 The Dim Locator (02:50)
inanimational items elude I, and
in-an-emotional-motion I swallow my
motive of quicker location is slammed
my dim chance of skipping this thick world is thin
they call me Dim
i am the Dim Locator,
Dim Locator
LOCO, LOMO, LOCO, LOMO, L'WOW, WOW, WOW
LOCO, LOMO, LOCO, LOMO, L'WOW, WOW, WOW
LOCO, LOMO, LOCO, LOMO, L'WOW, WOW, WOW
LOCO, LOMO, LOCO, LOMO
intriquintomitry treads on my trail
entriggering traps for a gross gang of ghost types
who later are packed in a cast IRON trunk
these things have been known, to get out of their wraps
don't call me Dim
i am the Dim Locator,
Dim Locator
LOCO, LOMO, LOCO, LOMO, L'WOW, WOW, WOW
LOCO, LOMO, LOCO, LOMO, L'WOW, WOW, WOW
LOCO, LOMO, LOCO, LOMO, L'WOW, WOW, WOW
LOCO, LOMO, LOCO, LOMO, L'WOW, WOW, WOW, WOWWWWWW!
fog fished and filtered is filling my case book, of
friends who fall foul of my files trip and BreakNeck
are stacked in the woodshed for further good use
there's some certain people who shouldn't start fires
so call me Dim!
i am the Dim Locator!
Dim Locator!
DON'T CALL ME DIM!
i am the Dim Locator
DON'T CALL ME DIM!
i am the Dim Locator
DON'T CALL ME DIM!
04 Hamlet (Pow, Pow, Pow) (05:33)
H! A! M! L! E! T! Yeah...
Hamlet's fishing in the grave
a-fishing in the grave
thru the custard bones and stuff
he ain't got no friend in there
no he ain't got no friend in there
I believe our man's in love
Hamlet got a gun-now
he wears a crucifix
he wears a crucifix
pow pow pow pow/pow pow pow pow
Hamlet move so beautiful
moves so beautiful
walking thru the flowers
waving to the people
all those beautiful people
lying in the shadows
he's movin' down the street-now
he likes the look of that Cadillac
and now he wants that Cadillac
pow pow pow pow/pow pow pow pow
is this love some kinda love
is this love some kinda love
now he's comin' down my street
crawling up my stairs
he's coming to my room
he's knocking on my door
WHERE FOR ART THOU BABY-FACE
where... for... art... thou...
pow pow pow pow/pow pow pow pow
is this love
is this love
POW!
he shoot it inside
he shoot it inside
POW!
some kinda love...
don't let 'em steal your heart away
he went and stole my heart POW!
hey hey hey POW!!
07 Kiss Me Black (02:48)
hey-hey-hey-hey
now they put the stink on us
throw us to the sucubus
fed us to the incubus
and brung in the Saprophagus
c'mon and kiss me black
black as the pit in which you found me
she's like a dog you have to kick her
sleeps like a swastica
and says 'everyone's a winner now
cos everyone's a sinner now'
c'mon and kiss me black
c'mon and sail your ships around me
c'mon and kiss me black
black as the sea in which you drowned me
c'mon and kiss me black
run your crusty cutless through me
c'mon and kiss me black
kiss me black and then undo me.
08 6" Gold Blade (03:35)
I stuck a six-inch gold blade in the head of a girl
she: lying through her teeth, him: on his back
hands off this one, hands off! she cried
grinning at me from hip to hip
hands off, pretty baby, tough bone then so soft to slip
oooh yeah
I stuck a six-inch gold blade in the head of a girl
sharks-fin slices sugar-bed slices that pretty red-head
I love you! now me! I love you!
laughter, laughter
oh baby, those skinny girls, they're so quick to murder
oooh yeah
shake it baby, c'mon, shake, shake it baby
[ad infinitum]
09 Kewpie Doll (03:32)
well I love that kewpie doll
well I love that kewpie doll
well I love that kewpie doll
yeah I bought her in a show
I dressed her up in a cheap red cotton dress
but everything was either fished-out or spat-out
fished-out or spat-out
well I love that kewpie doll
but I could not make it stick
well I love that kewpie doll
but I could not make it stick
only she could save my soul
she put her hands inside of me
well I love that kewpie doll
dressed her in a cheap-red-cotton-dress
fished it out now spat it out now
spat it out in front of me
well I love that kewpie doll
but I could not make it stick
doll doll doll doll doll doll doll doll
I held her in my cheap arms
she believed in me, she believed in me
her soul and my arms
well I love that kewpie doll
I told her phoney stories
well I love that kewpie doll
she believed in me
doll doll doll doll doll doll doll doll
kewpie on a stick
I can see her coming even now
kewpie on a stick
I can see her walking to me even now
well I love that kewpie doll
I can see her walking to me even now
well I love that kewpie doll
I can see her walking to me even now
well I love that kewpie doll
but I could not make it stick. end.
10 Junkyard (05:49)
I am the King. I am the King. I am the King.
one dead marine through the hatch
scratch and scrape this heavenly body
every inch of winning skin
there's junk in honey's sack again
Honey Honey Honey Honey Honey
come on and kiss me-e-e-e-e-e
Honey Honey Honey Honey Honey
Honey-child's takin' over this place
two dead marines standing in a line
drink to me! this heavenly body
every inch of winning thing
Honey Honey Honey Honey Honey
come on and kiss me-e-e-e-e-e
Honey Honey Honey Honey Honey
Honey-shild's takin' over this place
hack hack hack hack this heavenly
yack yack yack yack yack goes junk-face
scratch scrape scratch this winning skin
there's junk in Honey's sack again
there's junk in Honey's sack again
there's junk in Honey's sack again
junk in honey junk in honey
Junkyard King Junkyard King
King King King King King
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