Chemical Playschool 2:

side c

1. City Ghosts
2. Onward
3. Legacy
4. One For The Pearl Moon
5. Sensory Deprivation
6. Temper Temper
7. Amphitheatre Stomp
8. Misfortunes
9. Red Castles
10. Hanging Gardens
11. Redeemed
12. Before The End

side d

1. Waiting For The Call – You ‘n’ Me
2. Amphitheatre
3. Frosty
4. That’s My Boy
5. The Wedding
6. Stars On Sunday
7. Caligula
8. Moaners
9. Passover

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UK 2xC90 Mirrodot Tapes MD02-03

1985
NL 2xC90 Terminal Kaleidoscope TK101

1988
NL 2xC90 Mirrordot no number
DE 2xC90 Jarmusic no number

1990
NL 2xC90 Staalplaat STLPD 001 (different cover)

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Credits

• Edward Ka-Spel – Vocals, Keyboards
• April Iliffe – Vocals, Piano, keyboards
• Phil Harmonix – Synthesizer
• Rolls Anotherone – bass
• Rik Chevrolet (Tony Johnson)- Guitars
• Pete Ware

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Notes

First edition (Mirrordot, 1981) limited to 24 copies, all with different handmade covers.
The following differences can be observed on subsequent editions:

A7 and A8 appear later together as “Louder After Six”
A10 appears later mistitled as “Stand Firm, Damien”
B4 appears later misspelled as “Mpnmep Cptaha”
B5 appears later as “Apocalypse Now”
B9 appears later as “Witch Hunt”
B11 appears later as “Break Down”
C4 appears later as “For the Pearl Moon”
C7 appears later as “Amphitheatre Shuffle”
C8 appears later as “Misfortune”
C11 appears later as “detaefeD”
D2 appears later as “Amphitheatre 1”
D4 appears later as “Another Kind of Violence”
D6 appears later misspelled as “Starch on Sunday”
D8 and D9 appear later together as “Fin”

Jarmusic edition limited to 50 numbered copies.

All subsequent editions have different covers, including 2 different ones for the 1988 Mirrordot edition (one sold only at live shows, the other via mail order) each of which was limited to around 100 copies.
Despite the two different track listings, the material is the same on all editions – according to Edward, “some titles were forgotten and renamed”.

This release has been described by Edward as “a simple ‘best-of’ the first year of the Legendary Pink Dots”, and therefore has content which overlaps with several other early cassette releases.
Much of this material appears on various CD and CD-R anthology releases.

Notes from Bandcamp:
Chemical Playschool 1 & 2 dates back to the very beginning of the Legendary Pink Dots.
When LPDs decided to make their first tentative wave from the great ocean of artists just wanting to be noticed, they produced 2 cassettes. “Only Dreaming” had the songs plus a few mangled interludes; “Chemical Playschool ” was one long disturbing trip clocking in at an hour. Parts of that trip are reproduced on CP 1 & 2 (“Stars on Sunday”, “Redeemed” and others). Also in the pot was a large part of the promotional cassette which EK left in record stores around Europe (“Primer”-written in cyrillic script).

In fact CP 1 & 2 is a compilation of the first year of LPDs. Beware, much of it appears elsewhere (Legendary Pink Box, Kleine Krieg,Dots on the Eyes,Premonition). It is also not for hi-fi enthusiasts (primitive equipment, the occasional tape “drop-out”).

The original run with handmade covers was just 25 copies, all sent to Eurock in the US. The master tapes were then accidentally erased but cassette copies were found. This remaster comes from second generation cassettes found stuffed in a box. The music has been painstakingly enhanced and clarified but sound quality is inevitably flawed. The sonic overhaul is respectful- there was no desire to turn the work into something that it isn’t.

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Lyrics

Ideal Home

Angeline, Angeline, do you think this bliss is going to last? Gazing in your oval eyes, sipping sunbeam sodas from a flask. And should someone call in on us, to share in our enjoyment, stay to tea, we’ll show him round the garden, we’ll push him in the acid bath, like the Smythes, like the Hydes, like the Jekylls. Syracuse, Syracuse, I believe that I saw heaven this very day. And as you lick my fingertips, I’m floating over Devon, far away. And should someone burst in on me and spoil my meditation, god forbid, we’ll lead them round the garden, push them in the acid bath, like the Trevors. Never see them round these days. Angeline, Angeline, your perfume has me reeling, like your eyes. And as the sun beats down on me, my skin is slowly peeling. Wonder why. And should Cupid himself drop by, to fire his silver arrows at our hearts, we can take him round the garden and push him in the acid bath, like Apollo, like Adonis, just like Zeus. La la la la…

Phallus Dei

Pulses pounding, lungs collapse in sheets of sewer breath. Firing sweatstains steam saliva, seeds of sudden death. Seeping through the ventilator, up the fire escape. In a line, spirits whisper, “Season’s right for it.” I will think of England, of trees in summertime. Of leafy lanes, of daisy chains, of Grandad’s rhubarb wine. Run Christina, hide Christina, sneak inside this shoe. A pair of rancid rotten hands are wringing just for you. But android armies armed with H-bombs couldn’t save you now. Best to just lie back and wait, and contemplate your vow. I will think of England, preparing for this trial. I’ll raise my veil, I’ll bite my nails, I’ll grimace when he smiles. Shrivel, shimmer, sliding, shouting, sinking to the ground. Seedy 3D Polaroids can twist it round and round. It twined, it twined in twilight tango turning in the fire. Pressing, pushing past the limit, expand and then expire. Peter puked, tore a curtain, dipped his eyes and cried. Pilate pondered on his pipe, politely turned aside. And at the door stood John the Baptist, head beneath one arm. Spitting oaths, splitting fingers, sounding the alarm.

Stand Firm, Damien

Finger on the button, perspiration on the forehead, splashing puddles on the keyboard, jerking sideways, upwards, downwards, as the spiders sing a tune [you know]. You can’t destroy the aliens, can’t destroy the aliens. It’s painful and you’re doing well, but we keep coming back. But still he tries as missiles fly. His lady keeps complaining about the lack of conversation, says it’s lasted for a day now, but he won’t give up the fight. He’s gotta destroy the aliens, gotta destroy the aliens. It’s painful and he’s doing well, but they keep coming back. And patiently they brought him through and forced them down his throat till he was choking, dribbled gravy, swiveled crazy, spacy glimmer in his eye. As he splattered all the aliens, splattered all the aliens. It’s painful and he’s doing well but still they creep on back. Creeping back for more. But still he won’t give up, those actors slap him on the back and snap him with their Instamatic, automatic, jackamatic, he’ s fanatical but ice-cool as he cannons down the aliens, gotta destroy the aliens. It’s painful and he’s doing well, but they keep coming back. His score’s just topped a million, he’s killing them, a winner, though he’s getting so much thinner and beginning to see stars. Starts to mutter, eyelids flutter [on the coins and passing out]. [and at nation’s side] his mother cried, he just expired. Inquiry [winding highway?] why he tried to beat them to the end. Tried to beat the aliens, tried to beat the aliens. He fired the [?].

Brighter Now

Sitting on the beach, we watch the sun caress the sea. Turns the waves to liquid fire, but we know that it can’t hurt us. Hear a scream from far away, planes skip across the horizon. Guns are barking out a symphony; we know that they can’t touch us. For our love’s higher than the mountain, brighter than the nearest star. I [pulled] the book, I read the label, wrote the script down in my cradle. Waited all my life for this moment. Make it real for now, make it for eternity. Don’t turn against me.

Mpnmep Ctpaha

The artist was good. He caught the mood, he caught the colours. Caught the warm, embracing smile, a kindly aunt, a loving brother. But the smile belongs to mother, says “I’ll clothe you when you’re cold, I’ll feed you when you’re hungry. You’ll never want to leave me. Never. Never ever…” Nyet! Nyet! Nyet!

Professional

God loves you, he [lungs, their teeth 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, as if [?]. 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.

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 [?], 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.” 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. 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?

Misfortunes

Funny, we laugh at our misfortunes. Tragedy I don’t know much about. Older folks, they’ve all been through it. I suppose they know how it feels. I wonder if they’re feeling it now. They’ve seen those clouds before. As I sit here in my room alone and I’m playing god with your lives. Don’t you care? That you won’t even know who sent those bombs through the air. And perhaps you’ll write a love note. Desperation in those precious last four minutes, but she’s not there. Always looking out with sweet contentment. And the answer’s been inside us all along. What’s worse is when you know it, and it seems there’s nothing you can do, except smoke and drink and consume all the latest records, exotic ladies perfume. It’s a stink, little lady fair, a stink. We’re all gonna sink together, but happy.

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 poseys. 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 [thrown] to slice the sky for mankind’s last united cry. “We’re normal! Can’t happen to us! We’re normal!”

Waiting for the call – You ‘n’ Me

Shuffling through the ciggy packs, the broken bottles, plastic bags. Sprinkling crumbs in corners for the vermin. There’s a feast in the old rat-hole tonight. Little lady fair and rats from miles around will come to fight for their rat’s full share. It’s a pity that the party will be ruined by a guest armed with a spray. Spraying murder. Playing plagues. It’s early, I should be in bed. They’re bombing Brixton in my head. But still I slink in silence to the station. A busker in the subway hums a tune apathetically, while showing me the windows in his shoes for some sympathy. The sun turned to a nova as he stroked his beard, swiveled dim blue eyes. Gave him nothing. He sold me knives. You and me alone together, you in suede, me in leather. Laughing on our island blowing bubbles at the world. Free from business complications, sleeping pills, bitching nations, hemorrhoids and constipation. What a thrill! Heaven indeed, [sad I’m] only dreaming. It’s time that I accepted things the way they really are. You, me, me, your supporting cast of thousands, squash into a chute, we’re sending maydays out for air. If you smashed the other cheek I wouldn’t feel it. Stand on me, stamp on me, stamp out my existence. I’ve got this dread disease, you’d better throw me out of town. Don’t you recognise the eyes of a loser? String me up, cut me down, bury me in concrete. Don’t waste a slab of marble on an alien like me. It might make it that much harder to forget me. You, me, alone together, us in leather, lovely leather. The whole world, dressed in leather, lovely leather. In lovely weather. What a dream. It suits me, does it suit you? Old man tried to make a dash. He’s blind, he just ran out of cash. Inspector smirked and smashed him in the ribcage. Told him “Wait, you’re not going anywhere. You’re in custody. I’m bored, got a headache, couldn’t care about your poverty. How old you are, how poor you are – don’t matter, everybody’s gotta pay. Pay the money. Pay the man.” Deities in uniform spout up from unseen barriers. Fingers tapping “Chopsticks” on their holsters. It’s your time or your money, perhaps your shirt, little lady fair. Slip a hand inside your raincoat, you’re a cert for intensive care. For your local laughing policeman’s only happy when you’re writhing in a heap. Learned our lessons. We keep in line.

Amphitheatre 1

Found a hand in the sand where they covered up the remnants. Not enough to show the Joneses but should look good on our wall. Not too clean. Lily never saw a nail-file. Still the others tried to blame him but I just swept past them all. Hear them sing, feel them swing. Aren’t you trembling with excitement? Can’t stop my pulse from racing when I’m faced with scenes like this. Caesar lives. The empire lives. Must be twenty fires burning. If the guard would loose the lions, I’d surely die in bliss. Do you like my cross, as it sparkles in the white light? Cut in solid silver, swinging round my neck; it’s really very cute. Thousands died on them, millions died for one. Impressive as the [???]. But you can’t sling a [??] round your neck. It’s much too heavy. It’s much too large. Sing while you may. Standing here, sipping beer, aren’t we being rather tasteless? I’m ravenous with hunger. Can’t we simply sneak back home? Harmless fools, gaping ghouls. Have they never seen a car crash? It’s [???] and it’s raining. Not a freaks’ night out in Rome. [Get down on] the ground where the flies mill round my carcass. Teach you how to be a martyr, to raise interest from a crowd. But I don’t care. ‘Cos I can fly through the air. Play “I spy” from a cloud. I spy on the crowd. Down in the amphitheatre. Rain beats down on the amphitheatre. They’re getting very wet, so upset. The rain beats down on the amphitheatre. Down, down below me, but I’m free. Free from the world. I love the amphitheatre.

Frosty

He always looked behind him, scared somebody would jump him. Put him on the ground so he’d come around to the sound of people laughing. ‘Cos the whole world loved to mock him. Sun and moon both pointed at him. Kids would crick their necks to get a better view. Well, it really did his mind in, and we wanted to protect him. So we placed his face in a smash-proof case and placed it in the fridge. They giggled in the corners, whispered lies across the borders. They derided him and chided him ’til he carried out their orders. So he dashed into the limelight, played at Hamlet for a fortnight. Waved his arms and screamed demands for some respect. But they just could not excuse him, it was really too amusing. So he packed his sack and scrambled back to safety in the fridge. And I swear I saw his spirit skim the sky with nothing near it. Piled armour-plated roller skates, white feather train to steer it. Scared somebody would look up, gesticulate and throw up. Send him flitting, flitting scarred behind a cloud. But for him, there’s no escaping, no hole big enough to hide in. Best just to stay nicely out the way in safety in the fridge. In the village bells were tolling, in the town the dogs were howling. It was Armageddon, tanks crashed head-on, planet Earth was drowning. Then the Devil sent a shower, Europe died in half an hour. And a demon wind just finished off the rest. But our friend, he took a teabreak, idly munching on a fish-cake. Quite oblivious and ignorant but cosy in the fridge. It’s so cold there, in the fridge. It’s so icy, frosty.

Caligula (transcribed by Ed Erwin)

I just met Caligula on a peninsula. It’s so very insular.
A nutter! A nutter from the gutter. He’s got power and he uses it.
He collected all the sea shells, brought ’em in his palace.
They all laughed, so he had ’em all put down, what a clown.
All the sychophants we’re laughing, “Oh! you’re such a great teaser,
you great Caligula.”
He said, “You bunch of crawlers, I’ll set my lions in to maul ya’.
Line up by the wall! Don’t you know I’m emperor, a really nasty
emperor. You crawl to me, you’re up against the wall!”
There were they, all lined-up as a lion came out from a doorway.
He was licking his lips at all these Roman citizens.
As Caligula set up on the balcony, he snickered.
That Caligula, the snickerer.
But the Lion said, “I’m really not too hungry.”
So Caligula said to the victims, “Eat the lion!”
The Lion said, “I could change my mind!
OK, I haven’t had any dinner.”
Caligula ‘ll make an exception this time,
and the lion, he jumped on the line.
They were screaming, “Get off you nasty Lion!”
He didn’t. He had ’em all.
Afterwards, the Lion died of Indigestion.
Caligula, he made a suggestion, “Why not try some Alka-Seltzer?
Makes you healthy, makes you wealthy, makes you very wise.
Like me!”