peter pick

sex and religion

 

 

 

 

love           (miles, pick)

 

my mindís in tatters, letting in the sky;

the wide blue sky is shining through my head,

I want to tell you something, god I try,

but I just canít remember what I said.

 

What could I say to move you

it seems that words cannot express

for how could they convey this

elemental tenderness?

 

all I wanted to say was just baby that

love     is a blinding force

love     is a binding force

lovers are blind, lovers are blind of course

because         love      is a blinding force.

 

all my thoughts are shattered

they go blowing off like leaves

and anytime I see you

all my words curl up and die

Iím full of dreams and whirlpools

and my heart is on my sleeve

what could I say to move you

when my head is full of sky?

 

you know I think I love you

and you know itís not enough

Iíve nothing else to give you

just my stupid love

 

all I wanted to say is just baby that

love     is a blinding force

love     is a binding force

lovers are blind, lovers are blind of course

because          love      is a blinding force.

 

 

perfectly normal world

 

perfectly normal world,

shopping and travelling

a shopping spree

here in the free world

we are moving in a train

i work in a clothes-shop

iíve never been naked

i was in an accident

the others pulled back

but I didnít see him.

 

my father is a pilot

I know - I canít imagine Ė

weíre going to Japan

a crash course in being

we have cornered a buddhist

we have all the things

we can force you to need them

a traditional wedding

theyíve got some religion

i hope we donít all end up

slaughtering pigeons.

into the tunnel - I donít remember

six weeks in a coma

hospitals have a distinctive aroma

i want to be an air-hostess

and Iím sure you will be

 

 

love song

 

the courting pair obey the urge

concealed in courtship ritual

exhibiting behaviour

which is entirely typical

 

and each responds as they have learnt

and as their instincts force them to

this endless tide of ancient urge

is all that people ever knew.

 

this is all it ever was,

though poets may elaborate

on deathless love and high romance

whilst dreary priests expatiate

on standards and morality

designed to bind each to his mate

in order that society

may thus ensure they replicate

what instinct and conditioning

and that morality dictate

the mortgaged life their parents led

in suburbs and in triplicate.

 

A stable unit for the care

of offspring programmed to repeat

the endless cycle; breed and rear and cease.

the story of all meat.

the old pair-bonding pattern holds,

the race must copulate or die

the lovers play out ancient roles

reacting to such stimuli.

 

exhibiting behaviour

which is entirely typical

I linger in your softest kiss

and talk of bliss perpetual,

it's just blind instinct and blind lust

made bland by courtship ritual.

 

 

 

things i donít know

 

The things behind your eyes

would cause me such surprise

and anything you see

when you are not with me

the things I donít know about you.

 

The things you used to do

when i was not with you

the things that make you smile

confuse me all the while

the things I donít know about you.

 

The colour of your dreams,

your violent extremes,

what are you seeing there

when you just sit and stare?

the things I donít know about you.

 

The things you feel inside

the things you try to hide

the shadows of your past

how can you change so fast?

the things I donít know about you.

 

 

hurts my feelings

 

It hurts my feelings

when you want to walk the way you walk

it hurts my feelings

just to hear you talk the way you talk

but you donít care, you donít care,

what we donít share anymore

Iím just an emotional idiot

Iím just a big kid who wonít grow up.

 

It hurts my feelings

when you got to do the things you do

it hurts my feelings

when you go and screw the men you screw

if you still care, if you still care

it gets you there anyway

Iím just the ritual sacrifice

you made the choice and I pay the price.

 

 

 

let you go

 

Well you can see, that you could come to me,

and yes itís true that I will wait for you

so I say: anyone would love you, anyway,

but you know Iíll never want to let you go.

 

Be my love: what was I thinking of?

I want a pet. My love is like a threat.

Hear my prayer and youíll never need to go out there

cos itís true, Iíve nothing else to offer you.

 

I can see, that youíre afraid of me,

I can tell our lives could go to hell

so I say I might make the change now any day,

and I know

I have to try to let you go.

 

 

 

(weíre all living in) american radio  (pick, miles)

 

I spoke with Elvis late last night,

he told me everythingís all right,

when I asked him was he dead

he laughed, and this is what he said

ĎOtis, Muddy, Jimi, Buddy,

all our records still get played you know,

donít you be so fuddy-duddy

tune into a music show:

weíre all living in American radio.í

 

Free forever for payola

switch it on and dreams appear,

free for every rock Ďní roller,

you canít believe a thing you hear.

Moon and Bonham, Jim Morrison,

Willie Dixon and Sly Stone,

theyíre all waiting in the wire

to be with you when youíre alone

weíre all living in American radio.

 

I was tuning through the ether,

distant voices hit a nerve

such excitement on the station

the whole nation starts to swerve,

this is life we are transmitting

as the juice begins to flow

Lennon, Bolan, Miles and Mingus,

Hank and Coltrane say itís so.....

weíre all living in American radio.

 

 

want to see you

 

Iím off the pitch

Iím out of work

you are a witch

you watch me jerk

Iím like a fish

I took one look

I got one wish

and one hook

Iím tired, I ache, I hurt

Iím such a fake

youíre such a flirt

you know that I want to see you.

 

Iíve lost the best

I fear the worst

Iím going west

Iím going to burst

Iím out of touch

Iím out of mind

I think too much

to unwind

you watch, I twitch, it works

lifeís such a bitch

Iím such a jerk

you know that I want to see you.

 

Iím out of place

(Iím out of bed)

Iím off the pace

Iím off my head

Iím losing face

Iím seeing red

thereís not a trace

collected

I hate, I want, Iím sick

youíre such a cunt

Iím such a prick

you know that I want to see you.

 

 

 

 

old and new dreams (live sex)

 

time is closing down and light is closing up

iím enclosed in something i canít see

closest to my heart are closeted

dreams that are not opening for me.

 

timeís wearing on, my heart is wearing down

dreams are wearing out which shielded it;

hearts get calloused wearing in new dreams

or wearing tattered dreams that do not fit.

 

 

 

she's gone wobbly (live sex)

 

she's gone wobbly,

her eyes have got misty

her pupils as large

as her teachers are crazy

 

the people she loves

their feelings are twisted

dancing on dreams

and sliding on razors

 

who understands ?

who can explain ?

who holds the balance

when your love's insane ?

 

the people she loves

the people who love her

roll on the floor

and they suffer forever

 

they are running away

away from each other

and the damage they did

by being together.

 

who understands ?

who can explain ?

who holds the balance

when your love's insane ?

 

 

the man with the beautiful views

 

he got the tan he got the shoes he is the man with the beautiful views when time began he got the news now he is the man with the beautiful views he never stop he never lose he is the man with the beautiful views he got the plan he got the clues seek out the man with the beautiful views if you got the cash and you got the blues go to the man with the beautiful views

 

donít be a larm donít be confuse consult the man with the beautiful views he never stop he no excuse heís on the top with the beautiful views

donít be a larm donít be confuse

just

consult the man with the beautiful views youíll see no harm, heíll leave no bruise that gentle man with the beautiful views he got the flash he got the news he is the man with the beautiful views if you got the cash and you got the blues go to the man with the beautiful views he pay no tax he pay no dues just lip service to the beautiful views he never stop he never lose he is the man with the beautiful views.

 

 

the first several songs (1-8) were originally part of fire sermon, and were recorded on 8 track in hove (west hove, actually) around 1997-1998. they feature the bass of dave tribe. i wrote these on guitar after the collapse of brahma chop. i had never found it necessary to play guitar before that.

 

1) Ďloveí is co-written with richard miles, who wrote most of it, really, but not the words, tune or harmony vocals, and who plays guitar on it. he also contributed some tiny and inessential part to

7) Ďamerican radioí, but nothing youíd notice unless you really squinted. oh, ok, it was the bit which repeats the chorus in a different key in a nasty falsetto.

Ďold and new dreamsí and  Ďsheís gone wobblyí were improvised by chris harris, guitar; wendy halsted,  electric organ, and me, sax and vocals, which is to say LIVE SEX in newhaven, with regular live sex drum-buddies marc hayler (wobbly) and dave bailes (drums on dreams), [david cross played bass]. they were released as part of the 1984 tape love acts.

 

Ďbeautiful viewsí was improvised onto 8 track starting with the drum part, and was part of the tape release even so from around 1986, in collaboration with sco, but not on this track.

so there.

 

dave tribe: bass guitar (1-8).

richard miles: guitar (1).

chris harris: guitar (9, 10).

wendy halsted: organ (9, 10).

marc hayler: drums (10).

dave bailes: drums (9).

dave cross: bass guitar (10).

peter pick: guitar, vocals,  programming, alto sax, marimba.

 

 

 

this compilation

aural witness 2006

 

 

 

link to         peter pick    /     catalogue