Other versions
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Some Finnish non metal stuff:
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Ah, yes, the “Goth-Punk” accords! They brought peace and prosperity to both growing underground movements!
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“Bohemian Rhapsody” on a church pipe organ. There have been other attempts at this, but I think the arrangement and performance here, by Bert van den Brink, is the best… by far. (BTW: Perhaps oddly, over the years there have been many historically notable pipe organists who happened to be blind – such as Bert van den Brink.)
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“Go have fun with a Finn!” (John Cleese as ‘Basil Fawlty’)
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Phil Collin’s evil (and better) twin??
Drive fast!
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AFAIK most of those are about death and/or longing for lost youth, being in a fairytale land (that maybe being dead), being drunk for the first time etc. Expect Hän (him/her we don’t have bullshit gender pronouns) that’s about loving somebody and how wonderful that is and Emma is a instrumental.
Here’s a extreme example of Finnish melancholy:
Murheellisten laulujen maa (Land of sad songs)
He was born innocent
So it happened
To this northern, cold country
Where even his forefathers
Drunk, of course
Beat their wives, kids, if they managed to catch them
The traditional fate of a man
That boy wanted to avoid
I will never buy an axe
And never drink booze
Otherwise I’ll drink the house
The snow calls to the family in the winter
But he never wants to do like daddy did
But when there’s no job to be found
The hand of fate is making him drink
And so Turmiolan tommi comes to life once again
And the manners of lords rub off on the peasant
Full gallop towards the liquor store
It drives a man to despair
When the frost claims the crops
From the cold earth, quietly
A cold eye stares
As the axe rises
From amidst the hills
From inside the earth
Fathers look upon their sons with pride
Unemployment, booze, axe and family
Snow, police and the last mistake
This land of thousands of mournful songs
Which flows into thousands of lakes
A tenacious people, the amount of whose self-pity
Is not measured with sense or determined by Kärki
In whose songs trump cards are lost
And the gates of heaven remain shut
They tell of Einari Epätoivo (~Danny Despair)
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Some happy Finnish music:
Writer of Get On didn’t know much English…
Hey guess who’s come to town
It’s Mister x and he’s looking for foxes
And when he find that fox
He’s gonna have him some fun
I’m a black cat boogie lover
I’m a red hot stud
I’m a holy rolling coaster
Shaking out of my love
Got midnight shifts to work on
Got money left to burn
Got beer in my freezer
Got nothing left to learn
I’m your man
I’m the hoochie coochie toker
I’m the first in line
There ain’t no-one here to match me
I’m a lucky number nine
Got snakeskin sneakers and a mohair zoot
Big banana in my larder
Baby just feel my fruit
I’m your man
I’m the honky mojo worker
I’m the man with all the jive
Foxes seem to stick around
Like bees around the hive
Thunder in my eyes
Raining in my bones
Lightning in my pocket
Baby come on ride my storm
I’m your man
I’m your man
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Because Beck
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thank you wfmu for being well wfmu today.
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I’m not sure what it is, but I’ve always wanted some of what he’s having.
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TISM are now on Spotify, and Damian Cowell (aka singer Humphrey B. Flaubert) had a great reflection:
Hello. It’s me here. Reunion tours are nursing homes: there’s a smell of death. And the people who ask me about TISM reforming are the kind relatives saying “it’s for your own good”.
Notwithstanding the above (hopeful) clarification of my views, I did enjoy Tyler Jenke’s piece about TISM’s rather surprising appearance on Spotify. Firstly, he goes into bat for us, trying to answer all those kind relatives asking about a reunion, and secondly, of all the tracks up there, he mentions the live version of ‘Amway’ featuring a 10 minute drum machine solo.
Like many small achievements in my life, I rarely find people who understand, let alone share my self-satisfaction. This is one of them. I grew up in an era when it was considered ok to have 10 minute drum solos, and even I, originally a drummer, used to skip the needle over tracks like “Moby Dick”, “Toad” and “The Mule” (what’s with this obsession with animal names?) I never wanted to do one myself, UNTIL I bought my first drum machine. Then, a whole new world of possibility opened up to me.
And here it is: my revenge on Ginger Fucking Baker, John Dickcorporal Bonham, Ian Shitgolfer Paice and all the rest. The drum machine in question is a Yamaha RX-11. Do you have any idea how fucking long it took me to program this? I can’t even remember how I did it. But here’s what I can remember: standing in the downstairs dressing room at the User’s Club, in its time the snootiest club in uber-snooty Melbourne, during the short period when TISM attracted scene-makers, early adopters, fashion pioneers and other insufferable cunts, listening to this very same programmed drum solo hammering out of the PA system on the stage above us. We have just stopped playing Amway and run off the stage, never to return, leaving this drum machine solo continuing in our wake, for TEN MINUTES. Gradually from downstairs we can hear, in the gaps between pummelling 128ths on the fake kick drum, the audience starting to yell abuse as they realise they are listening to a small piece of plastic and wiring - not a human in sight - and far from feeling enlightened by the post-modernism of it all, they are experiencing art in its grim reality: a very long, unfunny joke with no punchline.
But shitinabasket, I was giggling like a schoolboy.
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AFAIK the only bad thing ICP ever did was Miracles. Where as Kiss was a calculated marketing campaign with some music attached to it. WHOOP WHOOP!
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Heh. Great satire!
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Vs
