disc a

1. Pearl Moon
2. Tanz Der China Dolls
3. Obsession
4. Thursday Night Fever
5. Time Dance
6. The Blessing
7. God Speed
8. A Day At The Dreamies
9. Close Your Eyes, You Can Be A Space Captain
10. Premonition 13

disc b

1. (Still) Defeated
2. Voices
3. Hauptbahnhof
4. Closet Kings
5. Clean Up
6. Government Health Warning
7. Film Of The Book
8. Ego Tripper
9. Curse (The Sequel)
10. The Plasma Twins
11. Apocalypse Soon
12. Rapunzel
13. Black Highway
14. Swordfish Lament

***

22 June 2012
NL Remsatered MP3 self-released on Bandcamp

1. Pearl Moon
2. Tanz Der China Dolls
3. Obsession
4. Thursday Night Fever
5. Time Dance
6. The Blessing
7. God Speed
8. A Day At The Dreamies
9. Close Your Eyes, You Can Be A Space Captain
10. Premonition 13
11. (Still) Defeated
12. Voices
13. Hauptbahnhof
14. Closet Kings
15. Clean Up
16. Government Health Warning
17. Film Of The Book
18. Ego Tripper / Curse (The Sequel)*
19. The Plasma Twins
20. Apocalypse Soon
21. Rapunzel
22. Black Highway
23. Swordfish Lament

*tracks are combined to preserve cross-fade.

---

Credits

• The Silver Man
• Edward Ka-Spel
• Roland Calloway
• Keith Thompson
• Mick Marshall
• Barry Gray
• Jason Salmon
• Patrick Wright
• various others…

cover artwork- prints and drawings by Elke
photography by Klaus Totzler and Marion Leseman

---

Notes

LP:
Vinyl edition is a boxed set limited to 3000 copies and including a lyric/photo booklet. The first LP consists of re-recorded versions of old songs, the second consists of old material taken from various cassette releases, and the third consists of one old track (“Black Highway”) and three new.
Several white label test pressing copies of the vinyl edition exist, packaged in white sleeves with photocopied pages from the booklet and band photos glued to them.

A Dotsography booklet from 1988 mentions an upcoming 3 LP release entitled CHEMICAL PLAYSCHOOL: THE BOX. It’s very likely that it became this release.

From the booklet:
Go back… nine years. You’re in a small, damp room. Three flames from three white candles lean towards the window, driven by a steady breeze from under the door. Three sets of tired eyes search for stars on a cruel November night. There are none. A pitch black ceiling closing in, slowly. Pressing down…. and the soundtrack goes on. Seven hours now: three sets of tired hands working, weaving a flawed many coloured tapestry in an abyss. Occasionally the door opens and someone looks in and laughs. It’s a cynical laugh, but no-one is hurt because three sets of tired ears are tuned to the soundtrack. On and on. Eight hours. Nine hours. NINE YEARS. The tapestry stretches across the sea, through borders, wraps itself around the planet. The soundtrack goes on and on, uncrasing. The scream becomes louder and louder.
SING WHILE YOU MAY. -EKS

From Bandcamp:
To mis-quote a much -loved movie at Chez Dots, “How much more Pink could it be?” The answer being “None”.
Featuring the ancient, the resurrected ,re-recorded, the rare and the exclusive, The Pink Box first appeared as a 3 LP set in a very pink box.Sadly the double cd was rushed out by the record company when the band was on tour and there are serious editing mistakes. This remaster addresses that issue and puts the tracks back in the order they are meant to be in.
Elke designed the cover..

---

Lyrics

Pearl Moon

I STOOD HERE, WHEN THIS CITY WAS A CAVE. FACE CONTORTED ANGRY EYES AFLAME… SPITTING VOWS I COULD NOT KEEP I’M ONE FOR THE PEARL MOON…… I SLEPT HERE… CAGED AND WEEPING IN THE WIND-UNDISTURBED THROUGH PILGRIMS CALLED MY NAME – I’M UNIMPRESSED BY CHILDREN’S CRIES. THEY CRIED FOR THE PEARL MOON! I WILL LEAD HERE. I’LL SMASH YOUR CITIES. I’LL BREAK YOUR WALLS. I’VE GOT NO MERCY ALTHOUGH YOU BEG ME TO STOP – BECAUSE I’VE WAITED FAR TOO LONG. TOO LONG FOR THE PEARL MOON.

Tanz der china dolls

Swap a name for a number. Find a cage, find a chain. Find a plate, slip it under…. feed it every other day. Keep the scenery the same, keep the family away. Keep it sane, keep it safe. Take that rope away – it likes to play (especially with itself when the eyes are turned away). Light the lights! Call the others… make a circle, make it blush. Make it flush the mess away. Tell it ‘God is dead’ – then make it pray. And I met her in the park and she’d changed. She shrugged away each time I tried to touch her, when I tried to tell her that it’s over… The nightmare is finished – Let’s start again… No more pain…. no more worry… But the only word was ‘sorry’. They’d had their way. She blew a kiss, said ‘sorry’ too. We’re broken china dolls…

Obsession

I had a picture of you. I sliced it up in two and half my love went in the bin, with the letters. And that purple tie you bought me for my birthday. Tell me! What’s his favorite colour? is it yellow? does he like it when you smoke in bed or burn the eggs or spend his money on those silly things which last for just a week then take their place among the garbage or with some stupid charity. His charity. My charity’s all gone, like those records that you stole when you rolled up our relationship and slipped out unannounced. Christ! you even took the cat. Now i talk to pictures, go to bed at 10 and pretend that i’m asleep, but the bags around my eyes betray me. You betrayed me… I betrayed myself. I -i’ll live with it, and i’ll find someone else. Don’t you worry… don’t you hurry to the phone. I’m happy on my own, playing patience on the floorboard (hell… I always lose but i don’t care)

Thursday Night Fever

If a look could kill… if a touch caused a seizure – you’d be dead as that rock. No room in the freezer. I’ll tease you with my fingers; squeeze you ’til you rattle like an engine that’s collapsing gasping out for oil. You nervous? you should be! I’m a jealous boy… As for your new friend – he’ll end his days down an alley…Shall he call the law? i doubt it… Curtains closing… faster, faster. I’ll turn young lovers to statistics. Nervous? he should be…I want you safe at home, alone. Ignore the phone except when you’re convinced it’s ME, enquiring about your welfare. I care about your paintings and your poems…love’s like that. Caring, sharing on our own together. And we can make plans about our cottage. Miles away. Us together. Never seeing anyone. And if you want to dance. I’ll fit the stereo up in the living room and you can dance alone. Dance alone. Alone, you and me i’ll watch. You and me together, you’re my girl, you’re my girl you’re my girl (I own you! I own you) My girl (x4) I own you! My girl (I own you!) …I’ll be there… I saw Domini Magnus Spiritus Sancti die…

Timedance

Sometimes she appeared on busy streets where crazy shoppers boxed themselves around market stalls and walls of windows. They never caught the brief reflection of the girl in white who cried alone and clutched her amulet and sometimes stretched a hand but found no takers. No, not even as a gift. How sad…. Other times she’d manifest on lonely bridges where evening skies would turn the river gold, and lovers strolled and swapped their secrets. Eyes locked on each other. They never saw her swinging legs flash lilac in the lamplight -beacons for a passing ship. Nothing stopped as silently she shook her head and slipped into the water….

The Blessing

Don’t worry dear, he likes you. it’s the way he craves attention. And don’t you think those rolling eyes are cute? He dances well you must admit the power of those hands! Touching here. Touching there. Touching places you don’t know yourself…Tie back, enjoy it! its a clean thing, a holy blessing, a holy blessing…Feel the spirit burning deep inside ; sliding in and out, in and out. Take it willing, take it loud. Smash the walls of Jericho!(x2) Smash the wall, smash the wall…

Godspeed

Tie on crooked… Fingers fumble. Starts to mumble, almost numb. The crumbs left on the razor blade are telling tales of deals that left him penniless – a nest of grudges. Wondering why he just can’t kick the habit. He tries and tries…It gets him by at parties, in the supermarket. Makes him whole, and if he tries to bait him he’ll lash back and smash the windows in the high street. He beats the world up when he’s buzzing, bursting out… Lamps are flashing, bells are ringing. Give ’em hell! Give ’em hell! Hellzapoppin’, pillzapopin’, eyesapoppin! ‘Amphetamine eyes. A belladonna blast. He’s fresher than tomorrow night, he’ll fight for his own way and play ‘Svengali’ to the ladies. He’s persuasive! Jabber jabber. Faster faster. He feels the tingle in his nose. The white tornado’s in his brain. He ‘s sane when all the lights are green and everyone ‘ agreeing. Turn a deaf ear and he’ll scream and scream and kick out for attention. He’s important, he’s impatient and he wants to get there fast. God Speed!

A day at the dreamies

Pink mountains dance excited while volcanoe waits behind a wall of matted ginger hair, and he’s prepared… he tampers with his belt, licks the wax off his moustache, reaches for his etchings…. Bats are watching high above from draughty rafters. They’re not as blind as they appear while Churchill barks a strict command into a box of toy commandos. “Behave in class!” (for inner peace…) Screen turns blank. Blank faces scream for action because they’ve paid to see the dream machine – the darkest corners of another soul. Where inhibitions are prohibited, and a secret is always told. Where everyone’s an artist and all that’s required is a pill and a pillow. Lay down. CREATE! Lay down, CREATE! Doctor finds a loose electrode and throws it at his nurse who breathes seductively down a microphone, “Stay seated… Service will resume in seconds – here’s some music while we find the fault. You caught us napping. Get it? Get it? No-one laughs. But no-one leaves as lights go down and screen turns orange…. lovers walking through a meadow. Sunset. Picking apples. Love’s young dream on the dream machine! A technicolour evesdrop in private land where wishes turn to promises and dead men spring to life. Brighter. Bigger. Fearless… Fun for all the family – at the dreamies… who is playing ‘Sleepy’ tonight?

Close Your Eyes, You Can Be a Space Captain

Uncertain when the idea came….was maybe in a fit of anger or maybe in a dream. But promises of miracles were all forgotten, plans lay rotting – wallowing in filth. No hopes, no goal, no redemption – a song bereft of passion ; a foetus in the sink. A stink of days-old whisky on his breath. A death breath…. 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 tiptoed ‘cross the room and took his hand, her 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 anything. “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 you want to be.Finish it! Finish it! Take them now (x3)….CUT.

Premonition 13

If I offered you my hand, would you bite, strip it to the bone? If I offered you my eyes, would you snatch them, smash them on a stone? If I offered you my heart, would you eat it like a hungry dog that’s foaming, rabid, rolling in a field of weeds. Spreading sores from head to claws chewed senseless as the hot rain pours like molten lead from cold red towers… drowning half an army planting the new pompeii! A lifesize model – squeeze the glue and see what’s left. What’s left??? You left… you left me broken, doubled in a chair with the TV on and the tap still running. Glass eyes see through me to the other side. There’s nothing left for me to hide. You took it all and now there’s just a shell – and it’s warm. Yes, it’s BLAZING! If I offered you my hand, would you bite it, strip it to the bone… If I offered you my eyes, would you snatch them, smash them on a stone? If I offered you my heart, would you nail it to a post and sell it to the highest bidder? DOG FOOD! FLESH FOR FLESH! A CRUST FOR A CRUST! The bread becomes by body, the wine becomes my blood and I hope it makes you SICK!

(Still) Defeated

Crazy Carry pulled the blinds + fed the lions + read the lines that skipped the page + made her dizzy, dozzy. Does she care? Does he? The answer’s ‘NO!’ It’s always ‘NO’. There’s no escape, no secret doors. There’s nowhere she can hide. No way. She’s finished, fated, defeated. She stumbled through the cafe doors down on all fours to loud applause – ordered a meat mandrax + a belladonna squash to quosh the pain. There’s a difference at madonna’s that can carry you away. It made her day, they pumped her dry; they wiped her eyes. She just survived + she can prove it with her bracelet. At least the money wasn’t wasted. But she’s defeated (nowhere to hide). Still defeated.

Voices

In the wind. In the sea… whispering hate, heresy; quietly accusing me. Voices. In the marsh. In the sky… Firing curses in my eyes, cutting me with razor lies. Voices… The sun steps down to dance on the armour, now rusted and brittle like September leaves. And through the odour of decaying man-piles, I know someone’s listening, waiting for me. Christine, you haunt me – you cling like a limpet. the ghost of your pulse hammers nails in my head. We all sold our souls for a handful of ashes. We gambled together, the blame should be shared.

Hauptbahnof

Sounds of methylated muttering… hand stretched out for a mark. The mark of death stamped over one eye – two flies wrestle on his raincoat…. copulating to the muzak. But the people just fly by…. Finds a sanitary sanctuary… foot stretched beneath the door. Takes a drag on a fag and it’s good ‘cos it’s menthol. He throws back his head and he dreams of the mountains. He’s inhaling the muzak…. And as inebriated evening spat a path for nausea night; the lights went out with smothered curses. A young nurse cried-a cop cried with her. Cops are dating to the muzak…. He got an apathetic epitaph… There’s no name on the headstone. They buried him on Tuesday. It rained. No-one came…. Busy listening to the muzak.

Closet Kings

Rolled out from a barrel. Roll erratic down the streets with concrete feet. Convulsive. Sick but smiling – looking for some meat you can fall on, roll on, use ’til morning; yawn, then say ‘goodbye’. Another lie! It makes a story – you can tell it to your friends and you’re the end! You got their envy – not a bit like one of them. No kings in a closet! Creeping past the nightclubs. Fleeting glances at the thighs with furtive eyes. Uncertain. Fingers seaching, find the booby prize that earns you jeers and tears that tear your out. It’s smarter just to run. It’s much more fun where you belong safe in your home you left alone and softly moan on telephones to other kings in their closets. No harm. Leafing through the ladies who reach out to touch your hand. There’s Mary Ann, curvaceous; kind of lazy…She lays back in the sand whispers “take me, make me, break me softly. Show me what you’ve got!” Its not a lot but she still smiles cos she’s a pictue, just a tease and there to please and ease the pain of kings in their closets. No harm.

Clean Up (These are official lyrics but they differ significantly from the real ones)

The world would be so nice without people but oh so bad without me. I’m applying for the job to sit behind the BUTTON, watch the spot on my knee. And when i’m bored you won’t ignore the goodies i’ve got in store – just hang around….It’ll all be over in seconds. Maybe you think i’m joking. It’s all just a fabulous wheeze ; and when the times ‘s right i’ll freeze, fatle flat on my back. I’m paranoid, i’ve got adenoids. They shot me. I like the noise. Now i can talk to the animals talk to the animals. I’ve drafted out a real persuasive letter. It’ll get the early post. Don’t be surprised – its kind of nice when you’re a ghost. I’m a scorpio. I’ll start the show with a farewell song on the radio …Hold your nose….

Government Health Warning

They followed stars and drank in bars and wrapped their cars ’round lamp-posts as the posters whistled “Think before you drink!” They didn’t! Toasted ghosts in different angles tangled up in metal as the cameras clicked and stretchers rolled and sheets were laid out white. It’s Christmas. Happy birthday Chirst. Let’s have another drink! Fa la la la la….

Film Of The Book (Instrumental)

Ego Tripper

Seven in the morning and i really can’t stop yawning. And the mirror tells me i should run a mile. I saw the message scrawled in lipstick – i didn’t know i made you sick. I always thought i had the wit of Oscar Wilde…I throw a flower tothe swingers. I drop a downer to a dinger. I tell the press i’ll do a concert for the blind. I tell them how life can be sunny in this land of silk and money and hear them mutter “Glory Jesus… whadda mind!!”Oh i’m an ego-tripping, rainbow skipping, glory dripping, money gripping tinsel covered ultra-superstar. All i need is understanding – a nice big cage to keep my fans in. If you’re good i’ll let you finger my new car if you’ve got gloves on. Please cuit the sympathizing i’m happy when i’m fantasizing. Feel that spirit rising from inside. they’re talking all about me… When you are standing by the basin, choose the flannel with my face on – i can watch you while you wash away the tears. You know, life has a meaning… I might visit you one evening. I’ll ease your worries and make things crystal clear. I’m here! I’m here and i’m here to stay….

Curse – The Sequel

[ backwards: tower 3 lyrics ]

Curse your daughters. Curse your sons. Blood on the altar – see it run. Slaughter with a glance, a wish…The glass is moving, it spells out Y-O-U OWE ME. Know me! You know what i can do when i’m screaming from inside. Go hide! go hide go hide away and cringe. I’ve got your picture, i’ve got the pins. I’ve got a picture of HIM! But did you warn him? Effigies of my baby!! ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

@ [sample: “…of you all i do dream of you all night through boop boop @ be doop…” – 1920’s-ish kind of song]

The Plasma Twins @ differs slightly from the Any Day Now version @ ($@)

give me plasma make it soon your love is not enough i’ve got you in my heart but i want you in my veins and i’ll meet you at the blood bank they could pump you into me it’s only fair because you know i like pumping into you give me plasma be my plasma doll my plasma lady fair, it’s nice to know we’re always sharing a love like ours is rare yeah i’ll show you my muscles if you give me your corpuscles i’ll have your blood if you’ll have my seed we’ll grow together the plasma twins the plasma twins you won’t feel a thing the plasma twins the plasma twins the plasma twins that’s us

@ [Note: it sounds like Edward is using a vocoder again to get some of the @ melody… I wonder if he’s saying anything. -$@]

Apocolypse Soon

Our hero shimmers in the corner, nags “A saccarini in my tea, oh teeny queen” in a green bikini. Ate all night and it shows as she grasps for a pill and she groans that she’s ill and she grumbles to Bill, “Get the bloody tea yourself!” And the T.V. screen screams scene’s getting worse… But our leader’s calm, she reads out a verse from the Bible. She pleads how the cause that we die for is blessed by the angels with rifles and skies full of bombs. It’s an eye for an eye and the trifles are high aiming right for the eyes of the enemies of freedom. A comfort. Triumphant! What more do we need as we bleed from the bowels, ’til the towel stinks, he smells sticks. The stale sick is caked on the lino we lie on, we’ll die on. Well, if I have to go that way, I’d rather melt with you.

Rapunzel

Wednesdays in Winter were bad days… She’d sit in her window but nobody came except voyeurs and tourists – their collars turned up and their eyes looking down. But nobody looks in her eyes anymore. They stare at her legs or they stare at the floor… She’s quick, anti-septic. She’ll touch only plastic. lights down, the carpet stays clean. She lies down, she dreams of a friend in a bright red Mercedes (initalled), who smokes crisp dollar bills with a house in the country and a beart like a cherry bomb. BLAST HIM with promises. Bury him deep and she’ll weep at the funeral; she’ll creep in a customised sack. And she’ll laugh all the way to the bank… and she’ll smash all the windows. She’ll smash the windows. Red lights dripping. Free the slaves. SMASH the windows. Flay the dogs who laid her and made her womb a children’s coffin. Every stone’s a seed that fell on thorny ground. A desert. SMASH it down. Turn the fucking stinking world to stone. Smash the wondows, smash the atom. Smash the core of heaven because it’s all…. A lie, a lay, a secret (alas).

Black Highway (official lyrics)

There’s space in my car I can speed you to heaven – We’ll maybe scorch the black highway and part the waters of the styx. I mixed my mescaline with hairspray (*1) – I’m well past caring. But I’ll show you some excitement. Better clutch your crucifix… Goodness! Gracious! Great balls of fire (*2) glow in the city’s stainless streets. A policeman waves as the crowd admires as a mess is covered with a sheet. Dancing in the street. (*3) A truck overtakes another truck overturning, twisting cartwheels on the concrete – dancing over a ledge. Shall I make it a duo? Send his tiny heart a flutter (pitter patter) As I slide up out from the gutter and send him sliding through a hedge. Goodness, gracious! A whop bop a loo bop a whop bam boom! (*4) Crash crash… A policeman waves, as a crowd perspires, as a mess is covered with a sheet. Dancing on the sheet. There’s been madness in my family since the sixteenth century and it seeps though my fingers when I’m poised behind the wheel. Tonight I’m feeling nasty. Some poor bastard’s going to suffer… He’ll be crying for his mother cos my dial is locked on kill. Goodness, gracious! … A hot old time in the old town tonight (*5), as a mess is covered with a sheet. Dancing in our shit. A siren shouts MURDER! It splinters the sunrise. A fireman weeps as he picks up a doll. And still they arrive in their cars and their campers, Pitching tents, picking hampers – searching quietly for holes… Goodness, gracious! Good Golly Miss Molly (*6) – You’re having a ball! A lens dipped and focused on a girl with an ice cream. Itdressed her up in celluloid and sold her to the world. She made the morning editions; Pulled a face at exhibitions and propositioned an ‘uncle’ who cut off her curls. Goodness, gracious! Good Golly Miss Molly – You sure look bald! A policeman waves as a crowd perspires, as a mess is covered with a sheet. Dancing in our sheets. Driver, more!

(*1) Some alcoholics drink hairspray and Lysol because they contain a high @ percentage of alcohol but are cheap since they are not subject to the @ taxes on alcoholic beverages. There is a trick to separating the liquid @ from the aeresol propellant, but I won’t tell it to you. (Don’t try @ this at home!)
(*2) Jerry Lee Lewis, “Great Balls of Fire”
(*3) Martha & The Vandellas, “Dancing in the Street”
(*4) Little Richard, “Tutti Frutti”
(*5) ??, “There’ll Be A Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight”
(*6) Little Richard, “Good Golly, Miss Molly”