Love Came Here

There is no end to this story
No final tragedy or glory
Love came here and never left

Now that my heart is open
It can’t be closed or broken
Love came here and never left

Now I’ll have to live with loving you forever
Although our days of living life together
Of living life together are over

There’s nothing here to throw away
I came to you in light of day
And love came here and never left

Complete History Of The Soviet Union, Arranged To The Melody Of Tetris (clip onder de lyrics)

To Moscow I came seeking fortune
But they’re making me work til I’m dead
The bourgeoisie have it so easy
The Tsar’s putting gold on his bread
The people of Moscow are hungry
But think what a feast there could be
If we could create a socialist state
That cared for the people like me:

I am the man who arranges the blocks
That descend upon me from up above.
They come down and I spin them around
Til they fit in the ground like hand in glove.
Sometimes it seems that to move blocks is fine
And the lines will be formed as they fall -
Then I see that I have misjudged it!
I should not have nudged it after all.
Can I have a long one please?
Why must these infernal blocks tease?

I am the man who arranges the blocks
That continue to fall from up above.
Come Muscovite! Let the workers unite!
A collective regime of peace and love.
I work so hard in arranging the blocks
But the landlord and taxman bleed me dry
But the workers will rise! We will not compromise
For we know that the old regime must die.
Long live Lenin, kill the tsar!
We salute the sickle and star!

I am the man who arranges the blocks
That continue to fall from up above.
The food on your plate now belongs to the state
A collective regime of peace and love.
I have no choice in arranging the blocks
Under Bolshevik rule, what they say goes.
The rule of the game is we all are the same
And my blocks must create unbroken rows.
Long live Stalin! He loves you!
Sing these words, or you know what he’ll do…

I am the man who arranges the blocks
That are made by the men in Kazakhstan.
They come two weeks late and they don’t tessellate
But we’re working to Stalin’s five year plan.
I am the man who arranges the tanks
That will make all the Nazis keep away
The Fuhrer is dead, and Europe is Red!
Let us point all our guns at the USA.
We shall live forever more!
We can start a nuclear war!

I am the man who arranges the blocks
That are building a highly secret base.
Hip hip hurrah for the USSR!
We are sending our men to outer space.
I work so hard in arranging the blocks
But each night I go home to my wife in tears -
What’s the point of it all, when you’re building a wall
And in front of your eyes it disappears?
Pointless work for pointless pay
This is one game I shall not play.

I am the man who arranges the blocks!
But tomorrow I think I’ll stay in bed.
The winter is cold, I’ve got plenty of gold
And I’m standing in line for a loaf of bread
Maybe we’d be better off
If we brought down Gorbachev

I am the man who arranges the blocks
That continue to fall from up above.
The markets are free! So much money for me!
Tell me, why should I care for peace and love?
The markets are free! So much money for me!
Tell me, why should I care for peace and love?
Peace and love, peace and love!

And now the wall is down, the Marxists frown
There’s foreign shops all over town
When in Red Square, well don’t despair
There’s Levi’s and McDonald’s there
The US gave us crystal meth
And Yeltsin drank himself to death
But now that Putin’s put the boot in,
Who’ll get in our way?

So we reject free enterprise
And once again the left will rise.
Prepare the flags to be unfurled
For we’re seceding from the world:
We shall regain the Georgian soil
We shall obtain the Arctic oil
We shall arrange the blocks and toil
Forever and a day.

Game over.

Stop Hammertime weergeven op een grotere kaart

U Can’t Touch This.

en op verzoek: ‘De lichtjes van de Schelde’

Ferm klokkenspel. Amai. Ting! Ere aan de muzikant, er was welgeteld 8 man publiek (vooral aan de andere kant van de wagen)

Ampersand – Fake Motherfuckerz

The Subs – Kiss My Trance:

Mr. Magnetik – You’ve Been Magnetized

Way down in the Congoland
Lived a happy chimpanzee.
She loved a monkey with long tail
(Lordy, how she loved him!)
Each night he would find her there,
Swinging in the cocoanut tree,
And the monkey gay,
At the break of day,
Loved to hear his Chimpie say:

“Aba, daba, daba, daba, daba, daba, dab,”
Said the Chimpie to the Monk,
“Baba, daba, daba, daba, daba, daba, dab,”
Said the Monkey to the Chimp.
All night long they’d chatter away,
All day long there were happy and gay,
Swinging and singing in their hunky-tonkey way.
“Aba, daba, daba, daba, daba, daba, dab,”
Means “Monk, I love but you.”
“Baba, daba, dab,” in monkey talk
Means “Chimp, I love you, too.”
Then the big baboon one night in June,
He married them and very soon,
They went upon their aba, daba honeymoon.

“Aba, daba, daba, daba, daba, daba, dab,”
Said the Chimpie to the Monk,
“Baba, daba, daba, daba, daba, daba, dab,”
Said the Monkey to the Chimp.
All night long they’d chatter away,
All day long there were happy and gay,
Swinging and singing in their hunky-tonkey way.
“Aba, daba, daba, daba, daba, daba, dab,”
Means “Monk, I love but you.”
“Baba, daba, dab,” in monkey talk
Means “Chimp, I love you, too.”
One night they were made man and wife,
And now they cry, “This is the life,”
Since they came from their aba, daba honeymoon.

Well, you should have heard that band
Play upon their wedding day,
Each Chimp and Monkey had nutshells
(Lordy, how they played them)
And now it is ev’ry night,
High up in the cocoanut tree.
It’s the same old thing,
With the same old swing,
When the Monk and Chimpie sing:

“Aba, daba, daba, daba, daba, daba, dab,”
Said the Chimpie to the Monk,
“Baba, daba, daba, daba, daba, daba, dab,”
Said the Monkey to the Chimp.
All night long they’d chatter away,
All day long there were happy and gay,
Swinging and singing in their hunky-tonkey way.
“Aba, daba, daba, daba, daba, daba, dab,”
Means “Monk, I love but you.”
“Baba, daba, dab,” in monkey talk
Means “Chimp, I love you, too.”
Then the big baboon one night in June,
He married them and very soon,
They went upon their aba, daba honeymoon.

“Aba, daba, daba, daba, daba, daba, dab,”
Said the Chimpie to the Monk,
“Baba, daba, daba, daba, daba, daba, dab,”
Said the Monkey to the Chimp.
All night long they’d chatter away,
All day long there were happy and gay,
Swinging and singing in their hunky-tonkey way.
“Aba, daba, daba, daba, daba, daba, dab,”
Means “Monk, I love but you.”
“Baba, daba, dab,” in monkey talk
Means “Chimp, I love you, too.”
One night they were made man and wife,
And now they cry, “This is the life,”
Since they came from their aba, daba honeymoon.

Om te volgen: Lyrics, The Flesh Failures

Ik krijg hier altijd weer kiekenvel van…

(uit Hair)

Several Species of Small Furry Animals Gathered Together in a Cave and Grooving With a Pict (Waters) 5:01

Aye an’ a bit of Mackeral settler rack and ruin
ran it doon by the haim, ‘ma place
well I slapped me and I slapped it doon in the side
and I cried, cried, cried.

The fear a fallen down taken never back the raize and then Craig Marion,
get out wi’ ye Claymore out mi pocket a’ ran doon, doon the middin stain
picking the fiery horde that was fallen around ma feet.
Never he cried, never shall it ye get me alive
ye rotten hound of the burnie crew. Well I snatched fer the blade O my
Claymore cut and thrust and I fell doon before him round his feet.

Aye! A roar he cried frae the bottom of his heart that I would nay fall
but as dead, dead as ‘a can be by his feet; de ya ken?

…and the wind cried Mary.

[...] een benaming voor podiumkunst die in de eerste plaats is bedoeld om te amuseren. Het begrip komt in Nederland grofweg overeen met cabaret maar wordt ook wel gebruikt voor verwante vormen van theater zoals musical en het luisterlied. Het element klein- in de naam wordt door sommigen als neerbuigend ervaren; anderen beschouwen het als een neutrale verwijzing naar het intieme karakter van de kunstvorm.

Hmmm…
.01) ‘…podiumkunst die in de eerste plaats is bedoeld om te amuseren’: toegegeven, mime behoort tot de kleinkunst.
.02) ‘…vormen van theater zoals musical…’: toegegeven, Studio 100 doet aan kleinkunst.
.03) ‘…en het luisterlied.’: dus ja, alle liederen zijn kleinkunst want liederen dienen om beluisterd te worden.

Nochtans, een vraag die onbeantwoord blijft is: dient kleinkunst per definitie Nederlandstalig te zijn?
En nog eentje: staat er een periode op, of bestaat er kleinkunst van voor, zeg maar 1900? Of was toen alles kleinkunst?

U ziet: kleinkunst is een vlag waar een grote lading onder kan.

Voor de liefhebbers: Wannes Van de Velde Last.fm Radio