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Rating: It is thanks to free time that I, in part, have grown. To my great detriment, since free time, without fortune, increases debts, and humiliations arise from debts. But, to my great profit, in terms of sensitivity, meditation, and the faculty of dandyism and dilettantism, other cultured men are, for the most part, ignorant drudges, and so are the young people in our academies, vile parasites where the imposition of the academies is to memorize the text for exams. Fuck off.
The true great ones are the Illiterates et idiots, free from any suspicion of any culture, like Mark E. Smith, he dropped out of state school after elementary, this piece of genius, his school was the street, he flushed intellectualism down the toilet, only thus could he become a genius, one of the pioneers of post-punk, the apostle of garage-wave. He, like all the great geniuses and dandies detached from any state culture, understood that in the bourgeois regime, workers always fall into the hands of the owners, that is, those who have some state asset at their disposal.
Well and more than well is paid only the work of those who contribute to increasing the prestige and sovereignty of the state, that is, the work of high officials, distinguished servants of the state, the state pays well, so that its good citizens, "burgers" that is, good bourgeois, remain loyal, it provides security by paying well its servants, with whom it forms a defense corps for the good owner citizens, a police. The police include soldiers, state employees of all types, for example, in the branches of justice, education, in short, the entire state machine and its bourgeois citizens. The workers hold the most enormous power (and this is said by a convinced anti-communist and anti-capitalist, that is, I): if they became truly aware of it and used it, nothing could resist them, it would be enough for them to stop working, consider as their own the product of the work done up to that point and enjoy it.
This is the true meaning of freedom: liberation from work, the state is founded on the slavery of work, if work becomes free, the state will be lost. The Fall in Hex Enduction Hour have released their most rebellious and anarchic work, no code to follow, degraded rock and roll, barbaric, pretentious garage at breakneck speed, Smith rants in the most total dialectical anarchy, the pinnacle of The Fall along with This Nation Is Saving Grace.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 The Classical (05:16)
There is no culture is my brag,
Your taste for bullshit reveals a lust for a home of office
THIS IS THE HOME OF THE VAIN!
THIS IS THE HOME OF THE VAIN!
Where are the obligatory niggers?*
HEY THERE FUCKFACE!!
HEY THERE FUCKFACE!!
There are twelve people in the world
The rest are paste
THIS IS THE HOME OF THE VAIN!
THIS IS THE HOME OF THE VAIN!
I just left the Hotel Amnesia, I had to go there
Where it is I can't remember,
But now I can remember...now I can remember
HAFTA! HAFTA!
MESSAGE FOR YER! MESSAGE FOR YER!
Too much reliance on girl here
On girls here, behind every shell-actor
Snobbier Snobbier
Too much romantic here
I destroy romantics, actors,
Kill it!
Kill it!
KILL IT A !
KILL IT!
KILL IT A !
You won't find anything more ridiculous, than this new profile
razor unit, made with the highest British attention to the
wrong detail, become obsolete units surrounded by hail.
THE CLASSICAL!
THE CLASSICAL!
THE CLASSICAL!
HOTEL AGGRO!
MESSAGE FOR YER! MESSAGE FOR YER!
THE CLASSICAL!
POLEAXE A!..........one of the millenium of conspiracy,
Forever,
I know it means a lot of stomach gas,
I K N O W I T M E A N S A L O T O F S T O M A C H G A SSSSSS
I've never felt better in my life
I've never felt better in my life
POLEAXE A!
THE CLASSICAL!
Stomach gas
I've never felt better in my life
I've never felt better in my life
POLEAXE A!
Millenium of conspiracy
Play out Classical
I've never felt better in my life
Better in my life.... . . . . . . . . .
02 Jawbone and the Air-Rifle (03:43)
The rabbit killer left his home for the clough
And said goodbye to his infertile spouse
Carried air rifle and firm stock of wood
Carried night-site telescope light
A cemetery overlooked clough valley of mud
And the grave-keeper was out on his rounds
Yellow-white shirt buried in duffle coat hood
Keeping edges out with mosaic color stones
Jawbone and the air rifle
Who would think they would bring harm?
Jawbone and the air rifle
One is cursed and one is borne
The air rifle lets out a mis-placed shot
It smashed a chip off a valued tomb
Grave-keeper tending wreath-roots said
"Explain, move into the light of the moon"
"I thought you were rabbit prey, or a loose sex criminal"
Rifleman he say "Y'see I get no kicks anymore
From wife or children four
There's been no war for forty years
And getting drunk fills me with guilt
So after eight, I prowl the hills
Eleven o'clock, I'm tired to fuck
Y'see I've been laid off work"
The grave-keeper said
"You're out of luck
And here is a jawbone caked in muck
Carries the germ of a curse
Of the Broken Brothers Pentacle Church
Formed on a Scotch island
To make you a bit of a man"
Jawbone and the air rifle
Who would think they would bring harm?
Jawbone and the air rifle
One is cursed and one is warm
The rabbit killer did not eat for a week
And no way he can look at meat
No bottle has he anymore
It could be his mangled teeth
He sees jawbones on the street
Advertisements become carnivores
And roadworkers turn into jawbones
And he has visions of islands, heavily covered in slime
The villagers dance round pre-fabs
And laugh through twisted mouths
Don't eat
It's disallowed
Suck on marrowbones and energy from the mainland
Jawbone and the air rifle
Who would think they would bring harm?
Jawbone and the air rifle
One is cursed and one is gone
03 Hip Priest (07:45)
He's not appreciated.
He's not appreciated.
He's not appreciated.
Drink a long draught, Dan,
for the Hip Priest.
I said drink the long draught, Dan,
for the Hip Priest!
He's not appreciated
He's not appreciated
White collar hits motorway services
It's the Hip Priest
From the eyes he can see, they know
It's the Hip Priest
He's not appreciated.
It's purple psychology.
Not just an old lady's.
That's hip hip hip hip hit hit hit Hip Priest
That's hip hip hip hip hit hit hit Hip Priest
And he's gonna make an appearance.
He's gonna make an appearance.
Was shown in a freakshow early on.
And drunk from small brown bottles since I was so long.
Cause I'm a Hip Priest
Cause I'm a Hip Priest
People only need me when they're down and gone to seed.
Cause I'm a Hip Priest.
Cause I'm a Hip Priest.
It's appreciation half won.
And they hate their allegiance to hip preacher one.
Hip Priest
I got my last clean dirty shirt outta the wardrobe
I got my last clean dirty shirt outta the wardrobe
And all the good people know
That's hip hip hip hip hit hit hit Hip Priest
All the young groups know
All the young groups know
They can't ever take advantage because I'm a Hip Priest.
I was as clean as a packet of chocolate treats.
(couple of lines - see hex induction hr)
That's hip hip hip hip hit hit hit Hip Priest
And if the good people knew they would say
He's not appreciated
He's not appreciated
So drink a long draught, Dan,
for the Hip Priest
05 Mere Pseud Mag. Ed. (02:49)
His heart organ was where it should be
His brain was in his arse
His hand was well out of his pocket
His psyche's in the hearth
Had a beard which was weird
Some time ago heard Ramones in '81
Has a Spanish guitar
Real ale, curry as well - sophisticate!
Spanish guitar doesn't get far
In computer teaching job
His dreamgirl sings adverts for the Weetabix
A fancied wit that's imitation of Rumpole of Bailey
Who's causes and rags were phoenix-like
They were do-do like
They were comfort blanket type
Pho-do in fact
Pho-do in fact
Pho-do in fact
He had a weak pisser
And one night at darts match
Decadent sandwich quaff
He showed he was a big fan of double-entendre
Saw Not the Nine O'Clock News History of the World Part One
Twice each at least
Twice each at least
Twice each at least
Mere pseud mag editor's father
Mere pseud mag editor's father
Mere pseud mag editor's father
Mere pseud mag editor's father
Mere pseud mag editor's father
Mere pseud mag editor's father
Mere pseud mag editor's father
Mere pseud mag editor's father
Mere pseud mag editor's father
Mere pseud mag editor's father
Mere pseud mag editor's father
Mere pseud mag editor's father
10 Iceland (06:42)
A plate steel object was fired
And I did not feel for my compatriots
Hated even the core of myself
Not a matter of ill-health
It was fear of weakness deep in core of myself
The fact attainment was out of...
Mounting orations
..populations
To be humbled in Iceland
Sing of legend, sing of destruction
Witness the last of the god-men
Hear about Megas Jonsson *
Cast the runes against your own soul
There is not much more time to go
Work fifteen hours for the good of the soul
And be humbled in Iceland
Sit in the gold room
Fall down flat in the Cafe Iol*
Without a glance from the clientele
Good coffee black as well,
Hair blond as hell
Cast the runes against your own soul
Roll up for the underpants show
And be humbled in Iceland
And the spawn of the volcano
Is thick and impatient
Like the people around it.
See a green goblin redhead, redhead
Make a grab for the book of prayers.
Do anything for a bit of attention
Get humbled in Iceland
What the goddamn fuck is it?
That played the pipes of aluminum
A Memorex for the Krakens
That induces this rough text
And casts the runes against the self-soul
And humbles in Iceland
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By Battlegods
Mark Smith is the classic icon that you either love or hate.
Hex Enduction Hour consecrates their chameleonic fusion of post-punk and beyond.
