Chemical Playschool Volumes 8 & 9 - The Legendary Pink Dots

THE LEGENDARY PINK DOTS

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Release date and tracklist

1995
NL CDx2 Terminal Kaleidoscope TEKA834

2008
NL CDx2 Beta-lactam Ring Records MT172

disc a

A Triple Moon Salute – [MP3]
Cease Your Lonely Mourning – [MP3]
Little Oyster – [MP3]
Catch A Match. A Bang Bang. A Flashing Fist O’ Crackerjack. A Smack. A Lick. A Char Char. You’re All Burned Out. – [MP3]
Invaders In The Raita – [MP3]
The Artificial Silence – [MP3]
A Chrome Zone In Powder Park – [MP3]
Pandora’s Socks – [MP3]
Andromeda Suite – [MP3]
Pastorial – [MP3]

disc b

A Pause In Melancholy Silence – [MP3]
Burned At The Steakhouse – [MP3]
New Shoes – [MP3]
I Dream Of Jeannie – [MP3]
She Gave Me An Apple – [MP3]
Stirred But Not Shaken – [MP3]
The Ballad Of Ron And Popo – [MP3]
Where No Man – [MP3]
Premonition 7 – [MP3]

24 February 2013
NL Remastered MP3 self-released on Bandcamp

A Triple Moon Salute / Cease Your Lonely Mourning / Little Oyster / Catch A Match. A Bang Bang. A Flashing Fist O’ Crackerjack. A Smack. A Lick. A Char Char. You’re All Burned Out. / Invaders In The Raita
The Artificial Silence / A Chrome Zone In Powder Park / Pandora’s Socks
Andromeda Suite
Pastorial
A Pause In Melancholy Silence / Burned At The Steakhouse
New Shoes
I Dream Of Jeannie
She Gave Me An Apple / Stirred But Not Shaken / The Ballad Of Ron And Popo / Where No Man
Premonition 7

Credits

The Silver Man
Niels van Hoornblower
Edward Ka-Spel
Martijn de Kleer
Father Pastorius
Cevin Key
Elke Skelter
Raymond Steeg
Ryan Moore
Maria

Produced and engineered by Edward Ka-Spel, Raymond Steeg and the Silver Man
Cover art by Elke.

Notes

An anthology release of rarities, compilation appearances, and unreleased material.
Several of the previously released tracks (such as “Andromeda Suite“, “Burned At The Steakhouse“, and “Where No Man“) were slightly remixed for this release.

Little Oyster, I Dream Of Jeannie, She Gave Me An Apple, Stirred But Not Shaken and Where No Man were on the 3″ bonus CD that came with the first 3000 copies of European CD edition of The Maria Dimension.

Tracks released on Bandcamp are sometimes combined to preserve the cross-fades.

KHALAMZH ZELYNZZHDA VROYHTAN

***

From Bandcamp:
1995. A dark room and a shelf full of bulky 8-track tapes. The boxes would sometimes proudly boast the title of an album like say “Crushed Velvet Apocalypse” in bold felt tip pen, but look closer and there would be a weedy biro line through it and the word “session” replacing it. Play the thing and it would be a big mix of the individual tracks for the proclaimed album, a weird and wonderful jam and some events that were better left unheard. Such were the building blocks of Cp 8 and 9.

Add to that the odd tracks from compilations, the songs from that elusive 3″ cd that came with initial copies of “Maria Dimension”, cassettes which left blew oxide flakes to the four winds and it can be seen that a serious journey could be taken here.
Lost bits of Shadow weaver, remnants of Maria sessions, scraps from 9 Lives are all here. Damn it, thee’s also “A Triple Moon salute”, which (along with “Damien”) may be EK’s personal LPD favourite.

Lastly there’s the cover…..weird weird fishes EVERYWHERE -one of Elke’s finest creations…
Take this brother, may it serve you well…..

Lyrics

A Triple Moon Salute

Floored by the tripwire. Stripped by the crossfire. Down on my knees. For the first time in years, I believed… And you came and you threw me your hand and we swam to a land where a promise was sacred, preserved. And my lady is whispers. my lady is air. I keep a strand of her hair in a heart on my breast… and I’m safe in our warm cocoon. I know you’ll be back soon and that’s a promise that’s sacred, preserved. colour me rainbows. Colour me vexed. I’m perplexed by that light from your moon. But you said you’d be back soon and that’s a promise that’s sacred, preserved.

Cease Your Lonely Mourning (instrumental)

Little Oyster

Sylvia fed me spiders in the classiest corner of town… Collars turned up to hide us we cupped our hands and shovelled them down silver blades and subtle passes slipped our pills and swapped our glasses, played footsie on a fading floor. we turned around I shut the door you shot me with a killer glance – i swore! i screamed! you’ll not put me in the circus with the fleas, or with Kathleen, the human bean… i’m scared of heights… i tiptoed tightropes… Angels spied the telescopes. “Gone fishing” but i will not be your oyster, God… i’m much too young to drink, and much to drunk to die… i’m happy in your tapestry you happy on a thread. You wove the pair of pink pyjamas and a double bed and when i sleep, I mutter “Mata Hari you strike me dead!” with hatpins baby… hit me where it hurts, Mmmm! I love it! i’ll be your little oyster – i’ll be the whole wide world

Catch a match

Catch a match. A bang bang. A flashing fist O’ crackerjack. A smack. A lick. A char char. You’re all burned out.

The Artificial Silence

Just a cry or a whisper in the artificial silence could have helped us to find our island and build a home made just for two. But your pride and my resistance and the strong advice of those who wish us well maintained the distance – and I doubt I’ll ever see you again. Yet I wonder if you wrote me…? I wonder if I called…? Would we hide behind the wall that divides us and protects us from all that fall back into violence. Can we crack this silence?

A Chrome Zone in Powder Park

Down below the apple tree, washed out by the blood flood, head – down in the daisy patch… it was still – born in the mud. Three tiny hands were stretching, longing for a breast – but it wasn’t there. Eight baby lips were puckered, antennae in the air. Nothing there! Mummy took her lover by his green and purple claw, quite resigned. “Let’s try once more. A second time! Let’s try once more…” (practice makes perfect, don’t you know…)

Pandora’s Socks

Don’t be scared, he’s only shouting. Five lives down, but then, who’s counting? I have a box to keep my doubts in. I keep them to myself. I’m quite humane. I’d never test you. The things inside me would depress you. Lock them up, you know it’s best I keep things to myself.

Andromeda Part 1…

Take this cup, dissolve with me. Tonight’s a one way voyage through your mind where all the doors open wide, where everything’s exposed… Kill all fear. Take this and sign along the dotted line. Free yourself. No possessions! Imagine there’s no heaven.

Andromeda Part 2...

Tell me doctor, what exactly is the problem? Do I not behave according to the patterns on your wall? Do I push all your parameters, am I unfit for your box? Tell me doc… do you have the perfect cure? Will you shower me with red ones, green ones and yellow ones? Is the answer in a spike, or with a rusty knife or in that place they call “heaven”? Ah… there’s no need to send me flowers for I have gardens where I go walking with my wife. Though I haven’t met her yet, I know she’s coming because she sends me messages… lots of messages. It’s along way to Andromeda but we’ll marry in the spring.

A Pause in Melancholy Silence

Turn. Turn. Run the risk. The world spins for you. In five years none of this will mean one thing. If all seems lost and they’re out to floor you – turn and face the day. And once I trapped a golden moment. It felt so good, I pulled the reins. But you turned to stone and the joy was frozen. I had to let the moment slip away. Now I confess that I’m king of nowhere. I confess I’m no master of my soul, but like a river I shall flow where I’m told.

Burned At The Steakhouse

Keep your hands in the air, keep your eyes on your navel. Keep your back to the wall and those chains on the table. I’m gonna staple up your body bag and tape your legs together. Send you back in fifteen packages registered Express. American Express.

First we’ll make a dollar, gonna take ‘em for a ride before we burn you at the steakhouse and pretend it’s suicide. It’s not that we don’t like you, you’re an OK kind of guy. But then, who needs a perfect planet anyhow?

All part of the service.

New Shoes (instrumental)

I Dream Of Jeannie (transcription, revised by Edward Ka-Spel)

Ahmed liked a tigress in the bed and a kitten in the kitchen except at Ramadan. He takes a stick and beat her ’round the legs, tear the diamond from her navel, dress her in the blackest rags, send her weeping to the shed ’til the feelings got too strong. He was longing for her feel again – the fleshy mountains, just enough to hide behind, melt himself away from the flying bullets, from the crying sirens, the battered Chevrolets on every street. On every corner, insipid sweetmeats, meets the sweetest girls in cafes but the coffee’s bitter, cigarettes are vile. Smiles are poison dipped, the flakes of lamb between the teeth now yellow brown. Sun-baked like the pusher in the corner who waits and waits to take his money, spends it, tells a tale – another Yankee in the jail, another movie, one more headline.

Head is lying in the water and the eyes are dead. Blood drained away now flowing in the veins of a pimp who parades a mile of flesh. It’s delightful, it’s an eyeful, it’s a mouthful… (it’s also very fat) Roll it up and lick it, squeeze it, roll it up and use again, again, again, swallow! swallow! Let me up, keep me warm, I use you again and again… Wrap me up i’ll use you again and again.. Again and again! (wrap me up I’ll use you again and again)

She Gave Me An Apple

Jesus walked the earth again. He stretched his hand to kill our pain. The spring winds blew… the acid rained. Love rained for fifteen hours. Generals gazed from Lover’s Leap then took a step for earthly peace – just flew to pieces, literally… Of course, we brought them flowers. But nothing stops the great machine, the wheel spins round, the tannoy screams “Get back in borders! Orders! Orders! Redefine your lines!” And Satan walked the earth again, brought plagues of locusts, whips and chains… Played Guns ‘n’ Roses, blocked the drains but no one payed attention. Too busy in their quiet dream, playing possum drinking tea. The world concluded happily. So there.

Stirred But Not Shaken

Washed by a wave. Locked in. The grave’s deep. The sea pulls. Flesh creeps. I shouldn’t wander in my sleep… And I wandered back in time and your face flashed before my eyes. You were laughing… Total Recall. I saw doors with no keys. Black Debts. My heart leapt and I caught it in my teeth. I tried to catch a little air; I tried to say a little prayer but He was laughing… Tossed by the wind of relief and regret, I’d turn right, twist left. I was caught up in a net. And the angel whispered “Hi!” I was lifted into the sky – still breathing…

The Ballad of Ron and Popo (instrumental)

Where No Man

From our window on the vast beyond, we measure space and sing the songs that lost their meaning long before they built this cage we live in. It’s from another age. An aeon… Turn another page, experience another place… here’s a neon palace brimming with temptation. But I’m bored with Mother earth, it’s seven wonders and I wonder, “Was it quite so small?” Did we escape or are we tourists heading for some foreign flawless place that only graced the thoughts of mad professors laughing in their graves? We’ll never know the answer. We’ll never find the tapes. our Bible preaches, “Search! Research! Reshape! Recycle…” Recycle for the sake of those who come before and those who follow. We have orders from beyond, we’ve no alternative; we’re growing weaker as the years go on and on. Our mighty leader is our father and our brother and he’s sick as the in-breaders in the Dead Man’s Room who bang their plates and eat their spoons and scream profuse profanities. I wonder sometimes, “Is it them or is it me who has lost all sanity?” But, after all I hold the key – but keep it safe inside the jar. Now half of this cage is starving while the rest of us shoot stars and blast the eighteen headed Pacman from our armchairs in the bar. Zsa Zsa Korova scored a supernova! Zeros wall to wall in roses, pink, vermillion. A trillion. Five stars. A new religion. Light the candles because I re-wrote the book of Psalms. On silent nights we chant them crawling backwards and watch our world collapse in crackerjacks through cataracts. A cataclysmic, ectoplasmic burst of happy gas. We knock it back. Relax, because we’re never ever going back. We never ever can return…..

Premonition 7 (instrumental)