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Asylum

THE LEGENDARY PINK DOTS

<< back to the Combined Discography

Cover ImageRelease date and tracklist

1985
BE/NE 2xLP Play It Again Sam BIAS12

1987
GR LP Penguin Records 30002

side a

  1. Echo Police – [MP3]
  2. Gorgon Zola’s Baby – [MP3]
  3. Fifteen Flies In The Marmalade – [MP3]
  4. Femme Mirage – [MP3]
  5. The Hill – [MP3]

side b

  1. Demonism
  2. Prisoner
  3. So Gallantly Screaming – [MP3]

side c

  1. I’m The Way, The Truth, The Light – [MP3]
  2. Agape – [MP3]
  3. Golden Dawn – [MP3]

side d

  1. The Last Straw – [MP3]
  2. A Message From Our Sponsor – [MP3]
  3. Go Ask Alice – [MP3]
  4. This Could Be The End – [MP3]

***

1988
BE CD BIAS12CD

2002
US CD Cacciocavallo CAD14
PL CD Big Blue SPV-L 0082  (different cover)

27 August 2014
CA CD Jnana-001

  1. Echo Police
  2. Gorgon Zola’s Baby
  3. Fifteen Flies In The Marmalade
  4. Femme Mirage
  5. The Hill
  6. Demonism
  7. Prisoner
  8. So Gallantly Screaming
  9. I’m The Way, The Truth, The Light
  10. Agape
  11. Golden Dawn
  12. The Last Straw
  13. A Message From Our Sponsor
  14. Go Ask Alice
  15. This Could Be The End
  16. My Baby Likes to Hurt Me*

* Jnana reissue only

***

08 June 2012
NL MP3 self-released on Bandcamp

  1. Echo Police
  2. Gorgon Zola’s Baby / Fifteen Flies In The Marmalade*
  3. Femme Mirage
  4. The Hill
  5. Demonism / Prisoner*
  6. So Gallantly Screaming
  7. I’m The Way, The Truth, The Light
  8. Agape
  9. Golden Dawn
  10. The Last Straw
  11. A Message From Our Sponsor
  12. Go Ask Alice
  13. This Could Be The End

* These 2 songs grouped together to preserve the link on the actual album.

Credits

  • Patrick Q Paganini – violin, keyboards, vocals
  • Poison Barbarella – bass, keyboards, vocals
  • The Silverman – keyboards
  • Stret Majest – guitar
  • Adantacathar – keyboards
  • The Prophet Qa’Spel – voice, keyboards
  • Steven Stapleton – tape editing (uncredited)

Notes

Some vinyl copies include a lyric sheet.  GRALNEZH KHAZH

“A place to escape to, a place to escape from”. We recorded this in the tiny bedroom of violin player Patrick who was the only Pink Dot to own an 8-track tape recorder and a “real” mixing desk back in 1985. I’d moved to The Netherlands in December 1984 and it had all gone terribly wrong. My first home was with a couple who ran the first label that released “The Lovers”, who were effectively dissolving yet simultaneously syphoning off the crumbs that were thrown our way. Ultimately I fled to a friend’s floor in Amsterdam on the train with a synthesizer under one arm and a bag of clothes over the other shoulder. The bizarre events which occurred in the next weeks belong with the story of the “The Lovers” so i’ll pass them and go on to the sessions where a 5 piece band slowly turned into a 3-piece via a 6-piece as the pressure all became too much. Graham Whitehead actually joined the Dots during the long protracted sessions as he was the second decent keyboard player in a band that was now used to 2 ivory tinklers for some time, and he was also Patrick’s flatmate. Steve Stapleton (Nurse with Wound) gave a little assistance with a couple of tracks as we waded through the mountain of recordings. Still mostly it was a time of people disappearing. Julie, who joined the Dots from Attrition dropped out from the recordings quite early and then Barry disappeared without answering the phone or the doorbell for maybe 10 days. Ultimately I completed the album with Patrick and Phil, and strangely the result turned out to be a small pearl in our history. Better still, EVERYBODY turned up again when it was finished for the first listen to the album in it’s entirety…. No murmurs of discontent, just the occasional (approving ) tear. Julie threw a Tarot at the end of the session (we were using a special pack ,the name of which is now lost in my memory) and the top card was “Asylum”. A perfect fit and inevitably the title for this album. – Edward Ka-Spel

From Bandcamp:
1985. The band limped back from the Netherlands, destitute and emotionally crippled after a series of events that could have finished them. The decision to record once more in Patrick’s bedroom studio after the experience in the high class radio outfit in Holland was a conscious one. This remaster is pretty dramatic, but listen closely and the odd buzzes and clicks are still there- they were simply part of it.
Asylum: A place to escape to, a place to escape from….

Press Release

Jnana Records is proud to reissue the The Legendary Pink Dots’ Asylum, originally released as a double-LP in 1985. The CD comes in a gatefold card sleeve with an eight-page booklet featuring new liner notes by Edward Ka-Spel as well as the only two photos of the group’s first lineup. Asylum was remastered in 2014 by Ka-Spel and features a rare bonus track making its debut on CD.  “We recorded this in the tiny bedroom of violin player Patrick [Wright] who was the only Pink Dot to own an 8-track tape recorder and a ‘real’ mixing desk back in 1985. I’d moved to The Netherlands in December 1984 and it had all gone terribly wrong…. Ultimately I fled to a friend’s floor in Amsterdam on the train with a synthesizer under one arm and a bag of clothes over the other shoulder…. Graham Whitehead actually joined the Dots during the long-protracted sessions as he was the second decent keyboard player in a band that was now used to two ivory tinklers for some time, and he was also Patrick’s flatmate. “Steve Stapleton (Nurse with Wound) gave a little assistance with a couple of tracks as we waded through the mountain of recordings. Still mostly it was a time of people disappearing. Julie [Niblock Waller], who joined the Dots from Attrition, dropped out from the recordings quite early….  “Ultimately I completed the album with Patrick and Phil [Knight], and strangely the result turned out to be a small pearl in our history. Better still, everybody turned up again when it was finished for the first listen to the album in its entirety…. No murmurs of discontent, just the occasional (approving) tear. Julie threw a Tarot at the end of the session (we were using a special pack, the name of which is now lost in my memory) and the top card was Asylum. A perfect fit and inevitably the title for this album.” —Edward Ka-Spel

Lyrics

Echo Police

The Echo Police shoot twice and ask you Zero Zero questions. Shady sessions in the backroom… Double spotlight, they whistle tunes. They hole you up, a hollow wall… They hear you call. The needle’s in the red. Thr print-out scribbles [[ OVERLOAD ]] in code. No-one shows an ounce of mercy; no-one turns a hair. You scream, you shout and they shout back. Exact, in tune…. no room for argument. The Echo Police just don’t know how.

Gorgon Zola’s Baby

Gold chain. Bronze skin. Cheese brain. Holes. Yes, Gorgon Zola rules the beach. She strolls, she kicks some sand – the mild man winces, clears his eyes. Despises her. She’s tall and cruel and cool as sour cream. His dreams are dry. She’ll paralyze – an icepick in his spine. She’ll fine him when his wheelchair’s parked on double yellow lines. He takes it because he has to… because he’s built like stale spaghetti. Zola’s pointing the machete – so he jumps!

Fifteen Flies in the Marmalade

Fifteen flies in the marmalade. Klaus drank all the lemonade. The guests ate all the bread and I’m hungry… nearly dead! But will you dance with me my little pickled herring?

Femme Mirage (Lyrics by Julie Niblock)

I rise from sleep, as a ray strokes my shoulder. Wishing to walk unveiled to the world – my flesh on view. These things stand in our way – the cold of the earth, the state of our minds. And the camouflage. The sticky threads that communicate the meaningless in a thousand different ways. My voice shuns your honey words on hour glass shapes. On the fragile, unreal, objects of desire. The words don’t flow, neither the feelings. No more ink on wood to betray my thoughts. Just this – a cry on the dark side.

The Hill (Lyrics by Patrick Q. Wright)

Michael couldn’t understand why people shook him by the hand then laughed at him and talked behind his back. Michael didn’t know the rules. Abused, confused at all the schools they sent him to – gave him the view to leave.

Michaels’ got a gun. Now he’s living on the hill. Watch the people run, shooting down the kids at play. He’ll teach them all to stay away. Mothers screaming, running round… No-one laughs at Michael now!

Out the classroom window stood a hill which made him feel so good. He thought he’d like to have it as a home. People never spoke to him. Ignored, deplored, he got so bored. He ran away and bought himself a gun.

Michael lay down in the sun. Perhaps he’d put away the gun if only they would leave him quite alone. No-one heard his point of view, the crowd of vigilantes grew so Michael used the gun just one last time. Now he’s buried on the hill.

Prisoner

Roaming spores and running sores and scorching fever. Score a pill to maybe ease the pain. But there’s more to come. The thunder’s in your brain, the lightning dances. Stars explode and spit. A foaming fit suck in a litt. Press [[ ground floor ]] but IT RISES! Bursts the ceiling, peeling clouds and fleeing for the sun where maybe there’s just a little peace. Oh please God… Just a little peace. A small release.

So Gallantly Screaming

d’archangel rises with eyes that accuse. A bouquet of black orchids for you as you weep in the ruins of all that you knew, of all that you cherished, of all you possessed. It’s a mess! And the message is scrawled on the wall. It says [[ God bless America ! ]] God bless what’s left. And what’s right ? And what’s wrong? Well, we still have the songs – but where are you Gershwin now that we need you? God how we need you… And down in the city of heartbreak and needles, a needle is rammed and a new dream begins. And the subway’s a hospital – beds on the tracks. And the victims are cracked under bandages, wrapped in their oxygen tents. Looking tense because the doctor’s demented and holding a pin… and if they cry out, he’ll hammer it in. Yes, Gershwin is grinning [[ Come Join Me! ]] God how I need you right now… Watch Washington wash in what’s left of the Whitehouse. Hear Hendrix make love to his ghost. Hear Abraham, Marin and John sing a song as they snip at your hair, as they butter their toast. Fred Astaire sings along as he skips down the stairs of the Pentagon. Gone! It’s all gone – the American dream. … Christ, it’s only a dream. But where are you, George? Now that we need you…

I Am the Way, the Truth, the Light

Merciful angel with blood on his hands. He’s down on his knees, because there’s nowhere to stand in a dungeon of plastic.. a castle of ice. Ankles tied with elastic, the blindfold is tight. The windows are shattered, there’s bolts on the door, and the music’s so loud, he can’t think anymore. Floodlights are blazing, they shout when he sleeps. But he prays because he loves them – they treat him like this! [[ I am the way and the truth and the light. I know all the anwers – don’t need your advice! I’ll scream if you kick me, I’ll bite through my chains; make you sorry you met me ’til nurse comes again. With her tray full of needles to dish out the pain. Sure, soon I’ll be peaceful – you can lock me away. And I’ll dream of mountains and fishing for friends, maybe walk on some water… I’ll make fissures of men ]]].

Agape (Lyrics by Julie Niblock)

Like two souls touching. Thoughts a – breaking – Lovers sleeping. Waves breaking against our minds. We play, play and laugh, play and laugh and sing to the heavens. Eyes smiling to eyes, across the words of wisdom. As you strayed, kicked heels in the spray. Til my heart broke out. I dive into the waves to join us once again in the deep green playground they call home. And others watch… but to us they melt into the trees, lured by we… the sirens. They back away from the sea green, from the things they fear. From the death. From the sirens…

Golden Dawn

I’ll be your slave, maybe you’ll be my priestess. I’d live in a cave and we’d meet where all eyes are turned away. Where we can lay, where we can play… and forget the storm. Will you weep while I slip away… at Golden Dawn? You drew a star, and I drew a circle. We hid in the car, we crossed our fingers and hurtled down the street. The fog was creeping slow, the deathbird peeping through the window. We drove on and found our way to Golden Dawn. I read the news and you heard the sirens. We packed, then we flew to an island which no-one else could find. Where we could hide and watch the tide slide in at twilight. We made love… on and on ’til Golden Dawn.

The Last Straw

Madman! He squats on my shoulder with icy paws and poison claws. Paranoise, annoys, destroys his toys and tries to fix them. But his world is made of powder taken neatly with a straw, and though he knows he’s getting weaker – he just takes it more and more. Sores are creeping on his skin, there’s desperation in his eyes. Because he knows he’ll never win – he lost it all. Surprise! Surprise! Madman’s prize lays in the gutter where he’ll mutter empty threats but I’ll pass him on his blind side – try my hardest to forget.

A Message From Our Sponsor (transcribed by Remko Schroot)

I will not desert you
I just stepped back a little…
Kept a low profile
Smiled as you made those little songs for me,
Build those temples
I’m flattered really!
And I know some of you curse me, some fear me,
some think I died and some think i’ve never existed in the first place!
Feel easy!
I’m reasonable!
I won’t interfere!
No matter what you do!
I’d never interfere…
Never interfere…

SO SING! SING WHILE YOU MAY! (It may not be very long…)

Go Ask Alice

official lyric sheet only has this:
438 backwards

unofficial transcription, by “K. Fritz Ruehr” and devout agnostic follows:

E- Edward P- other person, possibly Phil.

note: the two people often interrupted each other or talked at the same time. In this case I tried to order their lines so that the beginnings are in chronological order and they make the most sense. Anything included in [] was indistinct or uncertain Things included in [] are sounds not made by the indicated speaker.

E- Look, I have conclusive proof that the new number of the Beast is 834.
P- What do you mean, 834?
E- He appeared to me in a vision..
P- Rubbish!
E- He was dressed in white… he had angel’s eyes.
P- A beast in white?
E- Well, he’s a clean beast really, he uses Ajax in his bath.
P- Is he that type of beast?
E- Oh, he’s a devilish beast.
P- I thought his number was 666.
E- 666, well, everybody knew the number was 666. You know, it’s all the [???] who made films about it and… P- They got too many, uh, callers then, I suppose?
E- It’s boring really, you know [P- yeah], it’s like Gregory peck and I hate Gregory Peck, he’s a real bastard
P- I know what you mean, actually, uh, [goes on a bit?]
E- I mean he’s just one of those stupid film stars [???] and he uh..

[background shout: nognio scuffnit taur!]

E- Nognio scuffnit taur
P- What was that?
E- Nognio scuffnit TAUR!
P- I don’t understand at all.
E- That’s really stupid [background: nognio scuffnit taur!] I … I can’t understand you.. speaking garbage!
P- Are you talking backwards, is someone talking backwards over there?
E- I mean some people just [background: nognio scuffnit taur!]
P- Some people are just, uh, like that, you know?
E- Some, some people just talk nothing but garbage, really,
P- I know, yeah I know the feeling.
E- you know, I mean, you know, I was walking down the street [P- were you?] and someone yelled “zhnithniak” at me…
P- zhnithniak?
E- …and it was a really peculiar thing to say, it just didn’t make any sense at all…
P- Well, you know some strange people though don’t you though, really, when it comes down to it.
E- ahh who knows … peculiar ..
P- I know.
E- Y’know, sort of angels, beasts… Y’know, some goblins came along in these hobnailed boo-
P- It’s a strange old world, isn’t it… yeah shall we have a cup of tea?
E- Oh, I’d love some tea, actually, yes, ‘ts, yes a … Mm ahhh … I do like, I do love tea… bang on a cup, actually, where’s a spoon?
Oh, that’s great, thanks [tea noises, spoon banging, etc]
P- Find it very hard to swallow, actually, when I’m uh [???]
E- Any other spurious noises we could make, it… Is there any other sort of sounds that we could could make… that would sound totally convincing, that this is… a real conversation?
P- Well, we could try the … uh, yeah, try to set fire to somebody.
[Edward finishes talking]
P- What would Graham sound like when you set fire to him?
E- Oh, I think he’d scream a bit, actually, y’know, sort of.
P- Mm, would he scream, Graham?
E- Yeah, w… w.. would he go “Nognio scuffnit taur?”
P- heh heh … he might well do, you never know.
E- I mean, yeah, ha ha … HA HA .. yeah, it’s quite possible, really, but…
P- [Actually?/I’m sure?] this is a bit sacreligious right through young [Barry’s?] guitar solo, you know.
E- Ha ha, y’know, no..
P- Tends to be pouring his heart out to the world now…
E- Well there’s my keyboards too, actually.
P- Oh yeah?
E- Y’know, y, you don’t care about my keyboards at all.
P- Oh, I ignore your keyboards.
E- I know…
P- I’ve always- I’ve always ignored your keyboards.
E- n’ he, that, that bastard doesn’t know, I mean, what a bastard–What do you think about keyboards, [someone’s name?]
[pause, possibly a response beyond mic range]
E- Oh, cheek!
P- Sound better backwards, anyway, give you that.
E- I’m really annoyed, actually… I li- I like them forwards.
P- Bloody long track, isn’t it? Really goes on.
E- Incredibly long… I know, but … that’s life really, y’know …
P- “Dorca,” what’s that? … what?
E- Dorca?
P- dorca.
E- I, I don’t understand… don’t understand your BANTER, old chap.
P- I dunno. It’s… it’s ending now, I think, thank goodness.
E- Y’know, it, it see- it seems quite likely it’s actually finishing now… hehehehe…

This could be the end

It’s over. Complete. And the trapdoor collapsed. And your hair’s pretty neat through your neck snapped in half. And the man in the mask takes a hit from a flask and he laughs. Yes he laughs ! (Though his face never changes…)
YOUR PAIN IS FOR YOU ALONE, AS IT IS, AS IT WAS, AS IT WILL BE. FOREVER. AMEN.

 

The Lovers

THE LEGENDARY PINK DOTS

<< back to the Combined Discography

Cover ImageRelease date and tracklist

1984
NL LP Ding Dong Tapes and Records DDD 3333

1985
NL LP Torso 33 007  (different cover))

live side

  1. MMMMMMMMMMMM… – [MP3]
  2. Geisha Mermaid – [MP3]
  3. The Heretic – [MP3]
  4. Jungle – [MP3]

love side

  1. The Lovers (Part 1) – [MP3]
  2. Silverture – [MP3]
  3. Flowers For The Silverman – [MP3]
  4. The Lovers (Part 2) – [MP3]

 

***
Cover Image1991
BE CD Play It Again Sam BIAS109

2002
US CD Cacciocavallo CAD14 (different cover)
PL CD Big Blue SPVL-0102 (different cover)

  1. MMMMMMMMMMMM…
  2. Geisha Mermaid
  3. The Heretic
  4. Jungle
  5. The Lovers (Part 1)
  6. Silverture
  7. Flowers For The Silverman
  8. The Lovers (Part 2)
  9. Curious Guy – [MP3]
  10. Premonition 16 – [MP3]

***

05 June 2012
NL Remastered MP3 self-released on Bandcamp

  1. MMMMMMMMMMMM… / Geisha Mermaid / The Heretic / Jungle*
  2. The Lovers (Part 1)
  3. Silverture / Flowers For The Silverman
  4. The Lovers (Part 2)
  5. Curious Guy – [MP3]
  6. Premonition 16 – [MP3]

* These 4 pieces constituted side “Live” of the original release of the album back in 1985.As all tracks are linked, a single code covers all.

Credits

  • The Silverman – keyboards
  • Edward Ka-Spel – voice, keyboards
  • Stret Majest – guitar
  • Roland Calloway – bass guitar
  • Patrick Q Paganini – violin, piano
  • Lady Sunshine – lady voice

Notes

Engineered by Gert de Bruyn, assisted by Bauke van de Zandt
Tracks 1-4 recorded live at De Melkweg, Amsterdam, 9 September 1984.
Tracks 5-8 recorded for VPRO Radio at Vara Studios, Hilversum, 1984.
Ding Dong edition was limited to 2000 copies.

SECOND BIRTH. SING WHILE YOU MAY. LAZHMELIH

from Bandcamp:
1984. A time of high drama in The Pink Dots. VPRO Radio invited the band to create a side of this album in a top studio in Hilversum, The Netherlands while the live side was captured by a state-of-the-art multi-track recorder at The Melkweg in Amsterdam. At the end of the year, EK relocated to The Netherlands to spend as much time with Marylou as he could.

A perfect scenario? Alas, no……A falling out with the Ding Dong label saw “The Lovers” released initially without the band’s permission. EK fled from the label’s hq in Arnhem to spend a few months on a friend’s floor in Amsterdam. For a while chaos reigned supreme, and the album that followed (“Asylum”) represented a complete departure from the glossy production that can be heard here.

Lyrics

MMMmmmm……

Pig sucked on a cigarette and mucked the stable. Draped a cable `round the farmers neck and pulled and called the vet who galloped `round. Pronounced him dead. They laid the table. Turned the spit and baby kitten chewed a finger, lingered on a leg and licked his paws. It’s neat to be a carnivor!

Passed the plate with farmer’s head on. Sheepy shook a fist and said he looked like John the Baptist. Piggy did the twist said `Try me – I’m salami’. Threw the garlic salt and waltzed across the floor. They stuck their forks in. They ate him raw. It’s neat to be a carnivor!

Geisha Mermaid

He really liked her blind. He’d sneak up from behind and run his finger down her spine – say `it’s fine’ though headlines shouted FINAL! Pigs would fly, cities turned to powder shrines….. He’d keep her dark brown eyes in brine and she’d be happy – swimming under water. Safe! Looking for some seaweed she could bake and make a meal for two. A Tokyo stew. And though he knew she’d never do it – he never told her. He’d never ever tell her….

The Heretic

Excommunicate the heretic! Chain up, crucify the lunatic, the fanatic. We’ve got the nails, we’ve got the matches – light the sky for hours! Got the power, the desire and we’re looking for a thrill. Kill! Don’t know what you did but I don’t like it. Something about your eyes says you just don’t fit. A parasitic devil – stick out like a weevil in a woodpile. Vile, vile….. Violation! DEVIATION!

Jungle

Parcels for the kids, the parcel bombs were left in bins… They were singing hymns and rattling tins. A hand stretched out and caught him, knocked him through a window. And they were fingering his coat, looking for the price tag. Took his fags. Shook his wallet. Stripped him of his shoes. Left him naked – like a mannequin that’s bleeding. A weeping doll without a string to pull. A shop assistant hauled him to the dump with all the others. Struck a match and up they went! Only brave men make it in the jungle!

The Lovers (part one)

Airport torture. Patience! Wait! The tannoy shouts you’ve just arrived and fingers tap and eyes are strained – they wander through the queue for recognition. Soon we’ll be together – sharing secrets. Share a scarf…… and share a little heaven. Again. …

Kisses over breakfast. Touching souls and swapping wishes. The coffee’s cold – you washed the dishes – shared a cigarette and time to go. We took the train – still clutching. We smiled as others looked away….then looked again…

Hands across the table – tasting tears and linking fingers. Case is packed but we’ll still linger `til our time is up. Soon we’ll just be swapping letters, crying down the telephone. We’ll wish away the seconds `til the story starts again……………

Flowers for the Silver Man

[Children say: En ik zat op mijn raket… Roetsjjj! Roughly translated: And I sat on my rocket… Woosh!]

Capsule was diving, the temperature rising. Was hardly surprising his tears turned to steam in the blink of an eye. Just the hint of a cry. Baby knew he was dying – he knew he had failed. And the mountainside opened – a moment to pray for all the souls he’d come to save. Now he couldn’t save himself. That’s the way the world goes round. It spins so fast. It made him giddy – sucking all the power from the Silver Man.

Clouds formed a halo, the sky turned to day-glo in red and in yellow. The smoke spread for miles. They stood back and waited then moved armour plated – a night and a day cutting Silver Man free! But guns were sheathed, he’d long stopped breathing. They carried him away. (No-one saw the priest scamper through the darkness, clutching at a package, wading through the wreckage. Scatter. Scattered flowers for the Silver Man.)

Scientists raised hell and smashed all their razors. Tried chainsaws, tried lasers – could not leave a mark! Then sweat on the hotlines, `If Silver Man’s hostile, point all of your missiles up in the sky!’ And eyes watched for armies on lonely horizons and down in crowded cities….. A multi-coloured, multi lingual vigil through the day and through the night. Suffer. Suffered hours for the silver men! Down in the garden, hands clutching a garland, the Silver Man’s solemn but he’s trying to smile. Aware of his failure, the world still in danger…..He takes comfort from angels. They tell him `You tried! ` But Silver Man knows there’s no hope anymore. The sky is getting darker, it promises a shower. Showers for the Silver Man! Promnezh Nivarrh!

The Lovers (part two)

Cracks appear and cobwebs creep and dust rests on the shoulders. Mirrors lie and photographs lie back and laugh. And it only takes a push and China Doll will fall apart. But it only takes a touch and China Doll will start to dance…to hope…to feel….to love. Dance,China Doll!

 

Prayer for Aradia

THE LEGENDARY PINK DOTS

<< back to the Combined Discography

Cover ImageRelease date and tracklist

1985
FR CS Bain Total K24

side a

  1. Premonition 8
  2. Flesh Parade
  3. Purity
  4. Purified
  5. Forgotten
  6. Davritt

side b

  1. Outsider
  2. Invocation
  3. Love In A Plain Brown Envelope
  4. Love On A Stained Glass Window
  5. Close Your Eyes, You Can Be A Space Captain
  6. Premonition 9

 

***
Cover Image1996
NL CD Terminal Kaleidoscope TEKA666

2003
PL CD Big Blue SPV-L 0142 (different cover)
? MP3 on Itunes

  1. Prayer for Aradia Part One:
    Premonition 8
    Flesh Parade
    Purity
    Purified
    Forgotten
    Davritt
  2. Prayer for Aradia Part Two:
    Outsider
    Invocation
    Love In A Plain Brown Envelope No. 1
    Love On A Stained Glass Window
    Space Captain No. 1
    Premonition 9
  3. Premonition 5
  4. A Spanish Bridge
  5. Stoned Obit 1980
  6. Peace Crime 2
  7. Professional
  8. Brill
  9. Sensory Deprivation
  10. Temper Temper
  11. Amphitheatre Shuffle
  12. Before The End
  13. Fin

 

***
Cover ImageDecember 30, 2014
NL Remastered MP3 self-released on Bandcamp

January 8, 2015
NL Remastered CD-r self-released on Bandcamp

  1. Prayer for Aradia Part 1 (“Premonition 8”, “Flesh Parade”, “Purity”, “Purified”, “Forgotten”, “Davritt”)
  2. Prayer for Aradia Part 2 (“Outsider (aka ‘The Heretic”);8.”Invocation”;9.”Love In A Plain Brown Envelope”; 4.”Love On A Stained Glass Window”;5.”Close Your Eyes,You Can Be A Space Captain”;6.”Premonition 9″)

 

Credits

  • Edward Ka-Spel – vox and keyboards
  • The Silverman – keyboards
  • April White- keys on “Forgotten”
  • Roland Callaway- bass on “Forgotten”, “Purity”,”Close Your Eyes…”, “Outsider”
  • Keith Thompson- drums on “Purity”, “Close Your Eyes”,”Outsider”
  • Michael Marshall-guitar on “Close Your Eyes..”

TEKA cover art- Elke
Big Blue Cover- Zdzislaw Beksinski

Notes

“Outsider” is an early version of “The Heretic” from The Lovers

Cassette:
30 min. Tape wrapped in a plastic box looking like a normal one for cassette but bigger (14cm/11cm/1,5cm)!
Plastic box manufactured by Rovip SA France
Second edition in regular snapcase.
CD:
Re-release of the 1982 cassette-only release plus extra material.
TEKA- Edition of 1,100 copies.
Track 1 contains all the tracks on side A of the original cassette release, total playing time 12:35.
Track 2 contains all the tracks on side B of the original cassette release, total playing time 14:32.
Track 3 is taken from the compilation release ‘Rising From The Red Sand’ cassette compilation.
Tracks 4 and 5 are previously unreleased.
Tracks 6 to 13 are taken from the ‘Chemical Playschool vol. 1+2’ cassette release.

Dedicated to the memory of Tomasz Beksinski

‘Second Birth. Sing While You May. Lazhmelih’

From Bandcamp:
1981-1982. LPDs in a state of flux…changes, more changes. This cassette album was released by Bain Total in France 2 years after the master tape was delivered.  It’s quite a delightful 30 minutes too and the restoration has worked well.
Lovingly home made cdr containing 2014 restoration /remaster of the original cassette. Card cover, edition of 199.

Lyrics

Premonition 8 (Instrumental)

Flesh Parade

Up before the Flesh Parade: the pretty faces, bedroom eyes, pouting lips. The longing thighs say, “Come in for a night, you won’t regret it – but don’t make any plans.” She likes a man, but a hand is just as effective. A mutual need. No need to talk. No moonlit walks, no sun-drenched beaches. Just a bed and just an alarm clock, says your time is up. Go find another body – boy, girl – in the Flesh Parade. The line-up never changes. Sure, nobody’s perfect. Just good at perfect crimes. Have the standard phrases; ask the time. How about the weather? Don’t care about the spots. My only interest is your mind. (Got the time for a grind in the Flesh Parade?) The Flesh Parade. The line-up never changes, it only fades away. The clammy hands, down, down in the Flesh Parade.

Purity

Pumping fiercely at the fire, face aglow, reflected flames. Grits his teeth and bites his tongue. Scared, screaming ringing in his head. Scorn, impatient, swelling up inside, bellow arms persist, piston legs steam on, and on and on and on. Dance on burning bridge to gutted city. Licks the sweet sweat of success from his lips. Shouts orders to the troops. They’re armed with cleansing petrol. Faster he pumps – faster faster! For purity: he seeks purity. Each injection flames leap higher, sweeping through the cities, through the countries, cross the oceans, over mountains. Burning up the world in a swaddling of blue heat. Accompanied by a lullaby of hysterical laughter, a laugh for purity: seeking purity. They came, took him away, away from the ashes of the world, and he was happy to go. His job was done. The world had been cleansed, catharsis. Took one final look and smiled. The solitary survivor. Pure, clean, clear from smoke and black, in a building he called home.

Purified (Instrumental)

Forgotten

The sun was out, the streets deserted, everyone asleep. Deep in his crypt, King Arthur cried. Tore up the script. He tried to save us, but he failed. ‘Cos everybody laughed: the rusty sword, the rotted table. Bags beneath his eyes, tired eyes. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. Tired eyes. Bright blue eyes, his hands were shaking, snatching at a cup. Had quite enough, he suffered. Just not as tough as he used to be. Other times, when he was good, he wore a crown of orchids. Take his lady, sow his seed, it’s for the harvest; gardens bloomed. No one mentioned heresy or blasphemy.

Davritt (Instrumental)

Outsider

Excommunicate the heretic! Chain up, crucify the lunatic, the fanatic. We’ve got the nails, we’ve got the matches — light the sky for hours! Got the power, the desire and we’re looking for a thrill. Kill! Don’t know what you did but I don’t like it. Something about your eyes says you just don’t fit. A parasitic devil — stick out like a weevil in a woodpile. Vile, vile … Violation! DEVIATION!

Invocation (Instrumental)

Love in a Plain Brown Envelope, No. 1

Heaven is a hole, there’s a whole lot of heaven in your cavern, in your avenue. Enjoy it, do you, do you? Of course you do. It’s there in black and white – There’s every detail, and every tale delights the fannies and the grannies and the crannies with the antelopes of Lapland. Oh so horny. It’s a perfect land, the lips are lubricated and the pistons always stiff and glistening driving upwards, onwards like a dream. It’s partly human and part machine. Oh, Cyborg! as a man you’re magic, as machine you’re mean, mean mean mean. I’m so horny. Any time of the night, anyplace, anywhere, I’m yours, mean machine.

Love on a Stained Glass Window (Instrumental)

Space Captain No. 1

Uncertain when the idea came, was maybe in a fit of anger or maybe in a dream. The promises of miracles were all forgotten, plans lay rotting, wallowing in filth. No hopes, no goal, and no redemption – a song bereft of passion, a foetus in the sink. A stink of days-old whiskey on his breath, a death-breath [Aiiiiiaaahhhh!] A death-breath. Waiting for catharsis or waiting for a blade. A savior took all the clothes and pulled the final curtain down … wait in silence. And peacefully she tip-toed ‘cross the room and took his hand … White hair bathing in the moonlight, supple skin, lightly tanned. Offering a bottle, with an ounce of courage, gentle voice encouraging: “Take them now, finish it, yes, you can be a film star, you can be a star, you can be anything you want to be.” Take them now, take them now, you can be anything you want to be. Take them now, take them now, you can be anything you want to be. Finish it! Take the bottle!

Premonition 9 (Instrumental)

Premonition 5

He never had a chance, the trap was good, the exits covered. Seen it in a film, they’d done their homework well. The yells would echo “where?” The people played at being deaf, kept their curtains closed. Baby screams, father swearing, watching violence on the box. Walls had ears, ears had walls, blocking out the cries for help. They didn’t want his money, they only wanted fame, and they got it. As photographs came flying in the rain, happy families kept on smiling, floating to the drain: rosy cheeks, hats on, chins up, pin-ups for the rats that sat back. Drinking in the spectacle, the ritual, the sacrificial flick-knives swinging in the half-light. A present for the alley god, who switched his TV off, opened up his window, said “I’m pleased, so very very pleased.”

A Spanish Bridge (Instrumental)

Stoned Obit 1980

Lightning cracked a crooked cross across the sky, above the cross where he’d been hanging for a day (stoned again!). The breeze grew ice, threw knives, blew haloes. Hallowed cinders flew together made a cushion for his feet. There were spikes in his ankles, spikes in his sandals. A spike split the wood, syringed his vertebrae. Spikes in his shins, in his chin, in his fingers. Amused apparitions hummed the Marseillaise. We had to look away, he seemed so fragile. We tried to offer him a cigarette but it was futile, futile, no way through. The guards screamed “Front!”, drew guns, splashed acid; we retreated in the shadows, squatted low and said a prayer. Cameras clicked out of sight; there were fights, there were fanfares. Fireworks flashed across the cenotaph. Kiddies played in the pits, spitting crisps, licking icecreams. A spiv threw an auction for his autograph. (I never thought it would finish this way. No resistance not a word to say. Maybe we’ll meet in heaven, talk about those good old days. I still believe, at least I WANT to.)

The angels landed, cleared their throats and chorused “Crown Him!” They poured a potion on his curly hair – it nearly drowned him. They called a minute’s silence. They called the clowns in, then a cripple touched his foot and did a cartwheel down the hill; turning once for his wisdom, twice for the pearl moon, third as the thief cried out “It’s judgment day.” He rolled his eyes, ripped his shirt, rolled insane in the dirt. Applause ripped the heavens, blew the clouds away. The laughter died as schoolgirls passed around the tissues (pretty patterns). While a message said “We’re gonna miss you. Bless you. Bless your eyes.” And the bell rang twice and we fell as his lips moved. We stared in silence as the news guy scribbled down his final words: “I made mistakes. I’ve been a fool. I tried so hard but never thought that what started so well could end in misery. But my motives were good. I thought you all understood. Don’t be hard when this day is cloaked in history.” And he died with his eyes on. Ash for ashes, dust for dust, in nomine spiritus. Die with your eyes on …

Peace Krime 2

(Vocoder intro, then samples)

Professional

Got luxury lungs, they’re cheap to run. They’re lined with darkest velvet. I breathe in deep, my face turns green. Light flashes on my helmet. Hell, it’s not my choice. I’m shy, like to hide away in corners and saunter down the street so carefree. They don’t allow it. Sparks across the tomb, my cell. Sell my body to the snipers, who lean on distant windowsills, silhouettes behind their rifles. Sure I’m scared, but I carry on, ‘cos it’s one they made me for. There’s wars to fight, there’s claws to bite. Some things you have to stifle. It’s just a job, a profession.

Brill

I can smell a winner. You won the star prize. Surprise, surprise. Loverboy, lucky boy. Take the money and run, run, run, before you change your mind. Us widows are fickle. Run, run, run. [lots of other samples or vocals]

Sensory Deprivation

Can’t you see that she’s guilty? Smiles at you, but her eyes betray her. You should hear the conversations, the confessions to her friends. Don’t you see? Love is blind. Sensory deprivation. Aren’t you just a little worried, when you phone but you get no answer? Don’t you wonder why she never calls? Don’t you see? Love is blind, needs a stick. Sensory deprivation. Get down. Better face it that you’ve lost her. Now she’s in it for the ride. Tries to make you look a sucker. The thing between you’s gone and died. If you really want to keep her, buy a chain, a cannonball. Put a heater in the cellar and a mirror on the wall. You’ve got to keep her happy. Get down. Can’t you hear that she’s laughing? Sells your soul in a starched white roller, tells your secrets to her lover. Spins you round, puts you down. Don’t you see? Love is blind, it can’t see. Sensory deprivation. Sure I know you’re not a bad guy. Sure you care, but you’re overbearing. Showed her rust instead of rainbows. Bought her blindness in the pub. She can’t see. Love is blind. Sensory deprivation. Get down. She’s deprived.

Temper Temper

I don’t know why I shout at you, but I do it all the time. Something simmers deep inside and I just go out my mind. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m really not so cruel. Let’s make up, be friends again, forget about it all. Temper temper, I lose my temper. Must remember to keep my temper, temper temper. You should see me in the night time, when I’ve had a drink. Start to trash the furniture, drown spiders in the sink. I don’t know why I do it. It all seems so unreal. Someone said “Go see a doctor. You really must be ill.” Temper temper, I lose my temper. Must remember to keep my temper, temper temper. But I’m not the only one. You should see the Greeks. Give them cold moussaka, hear them stand and shriek. Tear up all the tablecloths, smash plates against the wall. Start to chase the waitresses and end up in a brawl. Temper temper, they lose their tempers. Must remember to keep their tempers, temper temper. Then you get the Mexicans. God, they can be mean. Stomp on their sombreros and next they’re jumping beans. It’s quite a stunning spectacle. It really makes me scared. Is it just frivolity or something in the air? Temper temper, they lose their tempers. Must remember to keep their tempers, temper temper.

Amphitheatre Shuffle (Instrumental)

Before the End

Before the end, the town was calm. No cold panic, no alarm. The pubs rang out with “Auld Lang Syne” as a politician tossed a coin. It was normal. Before the end, the children played while old men watched them from the shade. Bemoaned the heat, the price of tea, discussed perverse psychology. Normal… A-OK. Before the end, in a darkened room, Tom waited for his best girl June. Fingers crossed, he quietly prayed. “Lie down,” he whispered; she obeyed. It was normal. Ring a ring of roses, a pocket full of posies. A tissue, a tissue, all fall down. ‘Cos we’re normal. Before the end, in a crowded store, Miss Demeanor broke the law. Shifty eyes, sleight of hand, slipped up a sleeve a sardine can. Naughty (tsk tsk) but normal. Before the end, in a cramped bedsit, George slid a razor cross his wrist. Bloody jeans, tearful eyes, unhooked the phone, fed the mice. Nasty. Before the end, in a cushioned pod, Mr. Dial-a-Prophet looked for god. Flaming throne to slice the sky for mankind’s last united cry. “We’re normal! Can’t happen to us! We’re normal!”

Fin (Instrumental)

Transcribed by Nancy Thuleen

 

The Tear Garden

THE TEAR GARDEN

<< back to the Combined Discography

Cover ImageRelease date and tracklist

1986
CA EP/CS Nettwerk NTM6304
BE EP Play It Again Sam BIAS31 (different cover)

side a:

  1. The Centre Bullet – [MP3]
  2. Ophelia – [MP3]

side b:

  1. Tear Garden – [MP3]
  2. My Thorny Thorny Crown – [MP3]

 

08 June 2012
NL Remastered MP3 self-released on Bandcamp* as part of Tired Eyes Slowly Burning

  1. Deja Vu – [MP3]
  2. Room With A View – [MP3]
  3. Coma – [MP3]
  4. Valium – [MP3]
  5. You And Me And Rainbows (Parts One To Six) – [MP3]
  6. Oo Ee Oo – [MP3]
  7. The Centre Bullet – [MP3]
  8. Ophelia – [MP3]
  9. Tear Garden – [MP3]
  10. My Thorny Thorny Crown – [MP3]

 

Credits

  • Edward Ka-Spel
  • Cevin Key

engineered by David Ogilvie
Netwerk front cover painting “Hell’s Ticket” copyright 1986 by Steven R Gilmore
BIAS cover by Barbery

Notes

Also known as “The Center Bullet EP” in Nettwerk sales catalogs. First track is a re-worked Skinny Puppy song with Edward Ka-Spel vocals added.

Thank you to Brad for disk driving on B3
Dedicated to those who would walk with gods
In memory of Christine H. E. Crompton 1927 – 1985

Lyrics

THE CENTRE BULLET

*Transcribed by Alan Ezust and Jon Drukman
and other members of the Cloud-Zero mailing list.

Dead shot through the temple
In the temple heard the preacher screech!
I bored you full of holes, Lucretia
Saw you crease up in a ball
As if you swallowed your own poison
Followed as you crawled up to the altar

I watched the tabernacle choir
Bawling in a bath of sacramental wine
You laced it, but it tastes just fine to me!
Yes, it’s 89 – it’s a good year
Let’s hear it now for good old (bittersweet) ’89
Let’s hear it now for good old ’89

We took our seats, we watched them
Stringing up a chicken
(Kept on kicking)
As they kicked away the chair
They fed it strychnine!

We kept on staring, sick and sordid
As you pulled another bullet from my belt and fired!
Count to nine
(Ninety nine)
Count to nine

I caught it in my teeth
I licked it clean
I chewed it
I chewed it
Struck a match
I flew a dozen stories to my stool
Behind a widow
Sure I’m small, but I’m big enough
I’m big enough to send a bullet through your head

A bullet through the center of your head!
I’ll send a bullet through the center of your head
Center bullet… Rent a bullet…

OPHELIA

*Transcribed by Alan Ezust and Jon Drukman
and other members of the Cloud-Zero mailing list.

Crawling through a minefield
We never saw the signs
The lightning flashes
Thunder claps

Oh is it just a dream, Ophelia?

Saw the dark clouds rolling
Scavengers evolving
As we made love on a log in the fog

Is it just a dream, Ophelia?

There was just a hint of searchlight
It illuminates a pair of lonely souls locked together

Is it just our dream, Ophelia?

Trying hard to hide
To motor clean
But rolling for a gallery of eyes
Watching, bleeding

Is it just our dream, Ophelia?

And love is blind
It cracks its stick
Across our fingers
Makes us bleed
It makes us sick!

Is it just our dream, Ophelia?

And the water’s boiling
But the need is strong
And we have to swim
To find an island
Find a log
That maybe we’ll call home

Our home, Ophelia

We think that we can make it on our own

Our dream, Ophelia

THE TEAR GARDEN

*Transcribed by Alan Ezust and Jon Drukman
and other members of the Cloud-Zero mailing list.

Our lady on the balcony in black and red
The band plays stronger
Spinning back
We tread on broken glass
Our heels dig harder

I circle ’round inside your belt
I felt your heart race faster
Our eyes met with the eyes
Fixed in the sky

All seeing, knowing, probing
To the bottom of our souls
On tear garden

You shivered
We cowered in the corner
We watch the arms go flying rigid
Heard them call his name again
Pressed our hands to our ears
We waited for the rain

Waiting for the gentle rain to fall
On tear garden

MY THORNY THORNY CROWN

*Transcribed by members of the Cloud-Zero mailing list.

A trip to the insomnian in chains
They licked his cranium
Sunk wires in his brains
He stayed the same
Too old to change
He watched the world fall down on Tuesdays
He smelled the angel trail
But he’s just a snail
He counted to six hundred…
one, two, three, four, five, six
seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven
twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen
seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty… forty eight

 

Walls Of Snow – The Swedish Radio Special

THE LEGENDARY PINK DOTS

<< back to the Combined Discography

Cover ImageRelease date and tracklist

02 November 2014
NL MP3 self-released on Bandcamp

  1. Live in Sundsvall 1989

 

 

Credits

  • Niels Van Hoorn- saxes,wind instruments
  • Edward Ka-Spel- vox/keys
  • The Silverman- keys
  • Hans Meyer- sound wizardry

Notes

The single 30-minute track includes:

  • Brief interview with Edward
  • Maniac
  • The More It Changes
  • Thursday Night Fever
  • Eight Minutes to Live
  • Blacklist

from Bandcamp:
A big thank you to Anders Ilar who literally sent me this rare recording this afternoon (2 November, 2014). It features LPDs live in Sundsvall in 1989 on Swedish Radio plus a little interview. Quality is high, but be sure the sound of that raging crowd you hear at the beginning was for a different band. The brutal truth is that maybe 30 people saw the show after a spectacular 10 hour drive through Sweden in the middle of Winter.  Indeed there were literally walls of snow lining the route. Still it was worth it – the hardy souls who showed up treated us well. -EK

 

Island of Jewels

THE LEGENDARY PINK DOTS

<< back to the Combined Discography

Cover ImageRelease date and tracklist

1986
BE LP/CS/CD Play It Again Sam BIAS41

1987
GR LP Penguin Records 30016

side a

  1. Tower Six – [MP3]
  2. The Red And The Black – [MP3]
  3. The Dairy – [MP3]
  4. Emblem Parade – [MP3]
  5. Jewel On An Island – [MP3]
  6. Rattlesnake Arena – [MP3]

side b

  1. The Shock Of Contact – [MP3]
  2. Jewel In The Crown – [MP3]
  3. Our Lady In Chambers – [MP3]
  4. Our Lady In Kharki – [MP3]
  5. Our Lady In Darkness – [MP3]
  6. The Guardians Of Eden – [MP3]

***

2002
US CD Cacciocavallo CAD16
PL CD Big Blue SPV-L 0092 (different cover)

27 November 2012
NL Remastered MP3 self-released on Bandcamp

  1. Tower Six
  2. The Red And The Black
  3. The Dairy
  4. Emblem Parade
  5. Jewel On An Island
  6. Rattlesnake Arena
  7. The Shock Of Contact
  8. Jewel In The Crown
  9. Our Lady In Chambers
  10. Our Lady In Kharki
  11. Our Lady In Darkness
  12. The Guardians Of Eden

***

July 30, 2021
US Remastered MP3 / CD / LPx2 Metropolis Records / LPD’s Bandcamp

  1. Tower 6
  2. The Red And The Black
  3. The Dairy
  4. Emblem Parade
  5. Jewel On An Island
  6. Rattlesnake Arena
  7. The Shock Of Contact
  8. Jewel In The Crown
  9. Our Lady In Chambers
  10. Our Lady In Kharki
  11. Our Lady In Darkness
  12. The Guardians Of Eden
  13. Curious Guy
  14. Premonition 16
  15. Love On A Pale Green Postage Stamp
  16. Our Lady By Twilight
  17. No Bell No Prize
  18. Premonition 12
  19. The Black And The Red
  20. This Could Be The End (Alternative)

 

Credits

Percii Pylchardd – bass guitar, percussion
The Silver Man – silverscapes, samplescopes, and keyboards
Patrick Q – violins, keyboards, rhythm programmes, mandolin
Stret Majest – acoustic and electric guitars
«i» – keyboards, piano, backing vocals
Edward Ka-Spel – voice, occ. keyboards, electronix
Hans Meyer – saxophone

Produced by Hanz Myre and the LPDs, engineered by Hanz Myre
Cover art- Stephen Barbary

Notes

LP:
The first 5000 copies of the P.I.A.S. LP edition and all copies of the Penguin edition have a gatefold sleeve with printed lyrics.

EDENZH VERKYLZHDE

Bandcamp:
The review said it all……..
“There’s a market for this kind of thing and I suspect it exists on a remote part of the coast of Sardinia”.  For years, The Dots felt the same way. Was this ambitious album the ultimate sacrifice on the altar of artistic tension? Ladies and gentlemen, I give you “Medieval Industrial music” or how about a small piece for home-made orchestra and drum machine?
Now after remastering the album it feels like one of the best albums The Dots ever made. I confess it had been slowly growing.
It was our first album under contract for the Play it Again Sam label and were they ever nervous when we delivered the master…
They shouldn’t have been, this one stands the test of time… at least for me.
-EK

2021 Remaster:
CD has 15 tracks, LP has 20 tracks
2xLP- limited edition of 500
Bandcamp: Originally released in 1986 as the natural successor to “The Tower”.The focus, although framed by 80s reality, was set on a truly desolate, Dystopian future with a conclusion so bleak in the “Our Lady “ trilogy, that the band penned “ The Guardians of Eden” for the sake of their own sanity. Ironically, the irreverent pop song “ Curious Guy” emerged from the same sessions. Remastered in 2020 by Ray Steeg and Peter Van Vliet.

Metropolis Records site: Originally released in 1986 and considered a A more “serious” release, with themes of war and politics, Island of Jewels ranks among the more accessible releases in the vast catalog of The Legendary Pink Dots. Focusing more on songwriting than on studio wizardry or sonic experiments, interesting industrial sounds and memorable melodies abound. Remastered.

Printing error notice from Edward Ka-Spel on Facebook: I just heard from Metropolis about the issues with “Curse” and “Island Of Jewels” cds. Somehow all the vinyl/ web only bonus tracks are listed on the tray card of the cd editions. In fact, even if we’d wanted to include those pieces, the capacity of a cd doesn’t allow for this. It’s a serious bummer, but essentially a printing error. I do apologise to all who have bought the cd editions and expected more, but that is technically impossible, alas.

Review

To my ears, this is the moment when everything really came together for the Legendary Pink Dots.  In a way, though, it’s hard to know what to make of the album.  It’s easy to see it as the end of an era for the band — the last album with drum machines, and a natural extension and refinement of the experimentation of 1985’s Asylum.  At the same time, it feels in some ways like a transitional album, bridging the gap between Asylum‘s craziness and Any Day Now‘s much calmer (and, to these ears, blander) mix of late 80’s post-psychedelic pop and almost-symphonic prog.  And bridging it very successfully, too: here are all the wild ideas of the previous album without any of the missteps, and the fuller, more satisfying textures of its successor without its sense of being too “pretty.”  The songs are short, too — a very good thing, since the concision emphasizes the album’s dramatic structure and prevents it from rambling like some of the Dots’ later work does.

Like many LPD albums, Island of Jewels is split in two halves, the first more experimental and the second more lyrical.  The first half may be the best album side the Dots have ever done. (Well, OK, I’ll admit that the brief intro, “Tower 6,” is fairly disposable.) It has an enormous stylistic range, from the clanging, gothic “Jewel on an Island” to “Emblem Parade,” a dissonant piece for string orchestra and drum machine.  There are also two industrial pieces: side one closes with “Rattlesnake Arena,” in which two synth notes an octave apart oscillate relentlessly for nearly the entire song, while Edward Ka-Spel sings modal melodies accompanied by what can only be called melodic noise.  The song ends with a chilling passage in which distorted  voices cry “glory glory, hallelujah,” while the pitch bend knob is spun rapidly. Then there’s “The Dairy,” complete with harsh violin tremolos, a surprisingly danceable beat, and clever but repulsive lyrics about making a porn movie — lines like “Keep them creaming at the dairy / Pumping lonesome ‘cross the prairie” and “Russians do it best, well don’t they, Jerkov?”  Lest you think that sounds stupid, what makes the song great (aside from the incisiveness of the music) is Ka-Spel’s pronounciation: he sounds disgusted with his own lyrics, spitting them out to create what may be the epitome of contempt in music.

Most surprising of all, though, is “The Red and the Black,” which is unique even in the Dots’ varied output.  The vocals are half-spoken, half-sung, and the tonality is obscured by the accompaniment, which consists of a seemingly random but deliciously effective string of jazzy runs for piano and saxophone — avant-lounge, perhaps?  If this weren’t strange enough, it’s interrupted halfway through with about five seconds of post-Baroque harpsichord playing and electronic crash-and-bang, before turning into a clean, beautiful psychedelic pop song, accompanied by drum machines of early 80s vintage.  In a way, the song sums up what makes this album so good:  the band’s melodic sensibilities and their avant-gardist tendencies are perfectly in balance.

And then there’s side two.  As mentioned, this is (mostly) a showcase of the band’s more melodic side, although it’s about as “normal” as the second half of Kate Bush’s The Dreaming.  In the area of tunes, the Dots have improved dramatically since Asylum. Except for the rather awkward “The Shock of Contact,” which is unquestionably the nadir of the album, the melodies have become more elaborate, more sophisticated, more interesting and, oddly, more sensuous.  The arrangements are much fuller than the typically stark synth + drum machine + violin of previous albums, and the songs are absolutely teeming with texturally beautiful moments like the staccato guitar-and-violin counterpoint in “Our Lady in Chambers,” or the dissonant plinks suspended over drone chords that outline the rhythm of “Our Lady in Darkness.”  The latter song ends with one of the “proggiest” sections the Dots have ever done, a beautiful pseudo-classical instrumental passage in 7/8 that almost sounds like an alternate-universe take on Gentle Giant.  At the same time, these songs have a lot more edge to them than a song like “Laguna Beach” from Any Day Now.  “Nice” melodies are undermined by creepy bass notes, or interrupted by  dissonant piano chords.  Even “The Guardians of Eden,” a very tonal and conventionally tuneful piece, keeps itself out of the realm of the merely pretty by maintaining an unsettling major-minor ambiguity and ending just a bit too abruptly to let the listener feel truly calm.

I have to warn anyone reading this review that there’s a decent chance you won’t like this album as much as I do.  It’s hard to argue with the compositions here — they’re probably the most perfect in the entire LPD catalogue — or with Ka-Spel’s absolutely brilliant use of accent and pronounciation for dramatic effect, particularly in the terrifying “Our Lady in Kharki.”  But the arrangements really do sound very dated, rife with digital pianos, drum machines and, on “Jewel in the Crown,” a slightly cheesy guitar tone.  For me, that only adds to the appeal; I like 80s-sounding stuff, and the tension between high art and low production has intrigued me for years.  But if you’re the type to find those sounds really bothersome, you might want to give this a pass.

– Alex Temple [February 2002]

Lyrics

The Red & The Black

Reflecting on the Empire after eight… pig’s head on a plate white wine… The mint imperials circulated… Captain sips his brandy, curses Ghandi, dreams Napoleon and Delhi turns to jelly; Bombay ducks; Calcutta shivers down in its hole… Old England is out to rule the waves again – banging on the table! Routing the reds and the browns and the yellows. Black sky… the missles blast home! (It’s half for me, half for my company)

My union’s name is Jack, and it’s a ripper! hammers her head with a sickle, nails monkey to the tree. The lasers, they beam from the stars and Moscow is charred. Peking is leaking. Tripoli’s stripped (ha! ha!) – Mohammed, he flees from his mountain, counting the corpses in the stadiums with his shades on cos the white light hurts his eyes. And Captain, he cries, Captain, he screams, falls out of bed. It’s only a dream (?) Nightnurse wipes his forehead, whispers “try to sleep… back to sleep…”

The Dairy

Peeling paint, dead cigarettes… old cobwebs on the ceiling. Feeling faint, the spider fled – the flies played hide ‘n’ seek. We wrestled cheek to cheek, pink naked on the sheets. A feel was cheap, a deeper thrill was steeper. Camera peeped, director leaping, screaming, shouting, louder “Roll ’em, hold ’em, hole ’em, Close up. ART! Prepetual motion. Higher! Ram it home now cowboy. Down Boy. Showdown! Shoot that crazy foam across the duvet…” Get them creaming at the dairy, pumping lonesome ‘cross the prairies. Hats spin on their laps. The hotsprings gushing. Play roulette. The Russians do it best – well, don’t they, Jerkov?

Jewel On An Island

Bills were mailed express, black borders ordered PAY. Across the page the figures were laying and laughing… Jenny ripped them up. She ran the bath. Called her daughter, told her “Count to three, then throw the toaster – Mummy’s ghost will watch you from a better place. Be brave!” She braced herself but plugs were pulled. No power, so she crawled into the kitchen, tried the oven. Slipped her head in sideways, raised a hand, switched on the gas… No hiss, alas! She snapped. She snatched the safety razor, slid it across her wrist. She snapped a dozen plastic knives. She tried a dive through double glazing. Taps kept dripping. Rats were running. Vermin squirming in their holes, the neighbours banging on the walls. Outside the sirens were blaring. Babies screamed. The jailer was staring at her nakedness; smiled from the mirror with a key tied on a string. She can’t get out, he won’t come in… Round and round we go. Her tower. MY TOWER!

Rattlesnake Arena

In Cut Throat Lane the chains were swinging. Iron boots with blades on springs were lancing. Silver dance. The ghetto ballerinas tiptoed, blasting. Rattlesnake Arena burning red black red black. The gutter snipeser gasped beneath their melting mask’s that kept on smiling. Dead eyed. Dog’s Breath. Choke! Rattlesnake Arena burning red black red black. The stakes were low, the winner takes a wall to lean on, scrawl his name on for a night. The story starts again.

The Shock of Contact

Astrid, do you recall the Sundays at the Spa with double straws from a carton with a heart on. Who could ask for more? You’d assure me you’d support me as I tried to write that novel in the hovel we called home (OUR home). You’d mow the lawn you’d pay the bills. You touched me there. The Shock of Contact kept us warm. And Astrid, you kept your word, you never said a word, as I ripped up the pages, spent your wages, entertaining friends you hated, making bombs and planting them in galleries. Your salary was wasted (oh how criminal)… They cut the power, they pulled the plugs – they took away the phone. We’re quite alone. We share a candle in the cellar – oooh you touched me there. The shock of contact kept us warm. And Astrid, as sure as blue skies always turn to grey – they came with guns. I tried to run and you took all the blame. They took you and I never said a word – and now you never say a word as I lean through the bars. I whisper my apologies, oh Jezus you stare clean through me. You cut me down, I touch you there.. The shock of contact keeps me warm.

Jewel in the Crown

Give the boy a uniform, a unicorn, a horn, a sawn off shotgun and a cause… an ORDER. Cross a border. Tell him “Heads must roll!” Can fetch them back on poles. No rules except “Amuse yourself, abuse at leisure. Steal the treasure. Screw and sweat. She’ll swear in another alphabet. It’s meaningless… no soul.” You’ll reap and you shall sow. You’ll rape, you’ll know that God’s will is mysterious. Delirious. The fire burns inside. Outside the napalm forms a molten tower. Fit for Kings! FOR YOU! You’re everything. You’re golden. Take your role in history. Maybe you’re just a number but WE know your name and we’ll remember. Yes, we’ll remember ’til the end of time (so back in line you asshole!)

Our Lady In Chambers

Our lady on the Bleeding Ground, her satin gown is trailing in the mud. She ducks a football cos it’s Christmas Day and the shells are duds. And Tom and Jerry drink their Bovril, crawl out from the trenches swap their wives, and swap addresses til Our Lady’s calling time. Then back in line behind your pistols. Swines in schnitzels. Zyklon Tea. You hear him plea, you watch him grovel. Give it to him right between the eyes…

Our Lady In Kharki

Our lady on the wall selling poppies for Our Boys. Our price. Our choice. we bought one-watched Our Lady fly confetti fly the city die in flames as tanks spat amber at the Odeon. A soldier on the podium. One leg, a face that’s splashed with egg… a roadmap stained by cherry brandy, cracking jokes about The Jerry. And we snatched his helmet, pissed and blew our whistles with the steam. The kettle boiling, so we stamped and screamed for China tea. Were playing Shanghai in the cloisters, sucking oysters, dipping fingers, finding pearls the size of avocado pears. The treasure’s there – a shame there’s nowhere left to spend it… Shall we share the powdered milk and wait for God?

Our Lady In Darkness

Our lady in the abattoir. She’s hanging headless, charred. Baby on her breast – there’s nothing left, the milk turned to powder, Twist her, she’s an hour glass – but time has died. The blast was final. Captain’s flat down in the urinal fixing cos he’s sick of shooting shadows.

The Guardians of Eden

With supple hands and iron will, we’ll shape the land – we shall rebuild. We’ll make the world a garden – we’ll only scatter seed. We’ll turn the weeds to wine. We’ll count to nine whenever we are angry. We’ll see our kingdom come. We’re the Guardians of Eden.