pete doherty lyrics - a celebration of england
- Thread starter Cheesypoof
- Start date
Iam said:First thing I thought of this morning was CEoM.
I think your ? at the end is "Mud Fam", no?
Yeah blood, is right,
Love Skinnyman, me, proper working class hero with good lyrics and the capacity for articulation and deliverance, unlike some (ahem) pretenders to the title of Poet of Albion.
In me opinion, like.
cyberfairy
http://unicycle-emptiness.co.uk/
I got the album from fleetwood library-tis fine and indeed superb lyricsrocketman said:
lostexpectation
New Member
he didn't turn up to a gig in Ireland
he didn't turn up to a gig in Dublin 'cos he plane was delayed' and then they resceduled but he had to be n court the next day so that didn't happen either, he do a gig in Cork to mixed reviews
fuck him
he didn't turn up to a gig in Dublin 'cos he plane was delayed' and then they resceduled but he had to be n court the next day so that didn't happen either, he do a gig in Cork to mixed reviews
fuck him
moonsi til
worked it out now!
dolly's gal said:sort of like to see if he actually turns up for the gig as opposed to getting arrested for class a possession 2 hours before hand?
We went into the gig at 21.30 and he had not arrived, the manager said he had been en route from Brum since 18.10 ! He got on stage at 22.15...most bands usually end their sets at 22.30. Twas a good gig, I knew none of their songs apart from 'kill a man for his giro' .....it was Wolverhampton Civic and on Monday night The Charlatans played and a young fella was pogoing so high that he pogod off the balcony and
is quite badly hurt, Tuesady brought Babyshambles and wednesday Primal Scream...
acid priest said:
you see the problem with this, is that his lyrics are brilliant, and urs are crap, simple as
petes got talent,oh and he loves england too.
what other young poets have bothered to write pretty odes to england as he has. no one. so read this and pretend that nasty scag head the newspapers has caricatured hasnt written it. but he has, and read carefully, you'll want to kill urselves for liking it but look its brilliant. laaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
Down in Albion
They're black and blue
But we don't talk about that
Are you from 'round here?
How do you do?
I'd like to talk about that
Talk over
Gin in teacups
And leaves on the lawn
Violence at bus stops
And the pale thin girl with eyes forlorn
Gin in teacups
And leaves on the lawn
Violence in dole queues
And the pale thin girl behind the checkout
If you're looking for a cheap sort
Set in false anticipation
Ill be waiting in the photo booth
At the underground station
So come away, won't you come away
We can go to
Deptford, Catford, Walford, Digbeth, Mansfield
Anywhere in Albion
Anywhere in Albion
Anywhere in Albion
Yellowing classics
And canons at dawn
coffee wallows and pith helmets
and an English sun
New bought classics
And canons at dawn
Terrible warlords, good warlords
and an English song
But if you're looking for a cheap sort
Glint with perspiration
There's a four-mile queue
Outside the disused power station
Ah come away, say you'll come away
We're going to...
Semford, Woville, Newcastle
Anywhere oh
If you're looking for a cheap tart
Glint with perspiration
Theres a five mile queue
Outside the dissused power station
Now come away, won't you come away
We're going to...
Rexham,Oldham,.. Bristol
Anywhere in Albion
what other young poets have bothered to write pretty odes to england as he has. no one. so read this and pretend that nasty scag head the newspapers has caricatured hasnt written it. but he has, and read carefully, you'll want to kill urselves for liking it but look its brilliant. laaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
Down in Albion
They're black and blue
But we don't talk about that
Are you from 'round here?
How do you do?
I'd like to talk about that
Talk over
Gin in teacups
And leaves on the lawn
Violence at bus stops
And the pale thin girl with eyes forlorn
Gin in teacups
And leaves on the lawn
Violence in dole queues
And the pale thin girl behind the checkout
If you're looking for a cheap sort
Set in false anticipation
Ill be waiting in the photo booth
At the underground station
So come away, won't you come away
We can go to
Deptford, Catford, Walford, Digbeth, Mansfield
Anywhere in Albion
Anywhere in Albion
Anywhere in Albion
Yellowing classics
And canons at dawn
coffee wallows and pith helmets
and an English sun
New bought classics
And canons at dawn
Terrible warlords, good warlords
and an English song
But if you're looking for a cheap sort
Glint with perspiration
There's a four-mile queue
Outside the disused power station
Ah come away, say you'll come away
We're going to...
Semford, Woville, Newcastle
Anywhere oh
If you're looking for a cheap tart
Glint with perspiration
Theres a five mile queue
Outside the dissused power station
Now come away, won't you come away
We're going to...
Rexham,Oldham,.. Bristol
Anywhere in Albion
lostexpectation
New Member
Cheesypoof said:
beesonthewhatnow said:Shite
I wouldn't go that far. There's a lot worse than that. I read it with as open a mind as possible. That is very difficult given the problems you have with Pete Doherty. The media portray him as a genius, some reviews I found were worshipping the Libertines and I'd never heard them. Although I don't listen to the radio that much I was sure I would have heard Pete Doherty if he was that great. However I didn't, all I saw was the tortured genius pictures and words everywhere. But people I spoke to hated him and said his music was rubbish.
This will be I think the third set of lyrics I've seen from this guy. It is reasonably pleasant and chirpy, it's not provocative or offensive and doesn't seem bady written.
It is not genius by any stretch of the imagination. I ind myself comparing this to the Smiths, the first song i heard from the Smiths was "panic" and I was blown away. I subsequently bought 5 Smiths albums and Johhny Rogan's book and when I have some money I'll invest further in the Smiths. Pete Doherty pales in insignificance compared to the impact and talent of Morrissey and Marr. The lyrics above are mediocre, possibly quite OK/good if I'm really sticking my neck out.
There have been several threads on Pete Doherty. I don't like only contributing to hate threads. I do not hate Pete Doherty. On the evidence I've seen he is average and his contribution to the British music scene is far less than the Smiths, the Manics, Stone Roses or Oasis. Or in fact a lot more artists. His work does not stand out and consequetly i believe he is overated by a huge margin.
May Kasahara
take me to the feeling
Cheesypoof said:
Ummm....any of the artists already quoted on this thread? For starters.
*shoots self for getting involved*
I would also add that the lyrics you have quoted don't evoke any particular feeling or image in my mind, especially not of England.
BadlyDrawnGirl
Piano Tuna
I only wish they had been my lyrics. So it would seem that your general knowledge of English songwriting does not extend to The Fall, which duly renders you both a wrongheaded ignoramus and a cultural mollusc.Cheesypoof said:
If this is the standard of writers they have at the Grauniad these days, there is no hope.
The Good Old Days - The Libertines
If Queen Boadicea is long dead and gone
Still then the spirit
In her children's children's children
It lives on
If you've lost your faith in love and music
Oh the end won't be long
Because if it's gone for you then I too may lose it
And that would be wrong
You know I've tried so hard to keep myself from falling
Back into my bad old ways
And it chars my heart to always hear you calling
Calling for the good old days
Because there were no good old days
These are the good old days
It's not about, tenements and needles
And all the evils in their eyes
And the backs of their minds
Daisy chains and school yard games
And a list of things we said we'd do tomorrow
A list of things we said we'd do tomorrow
The arcadian dream has all fallen through
But the Albion sails on course
So lets man the decks and hoist the rigging
Because the pig mans found the source
And theres twelve rude boys on the oars
If Queen Boadicea is long dead and gone
Still then the spirit
In her children's children's children
It lives on
If you've lost your faith in love and music
Oh the end won't be long
Because if it's gone for you then I too may lose it
And that would be wrong
You know I've tried so hard to keep myself from falling
Back into my bad old ways
And it chars my heart to always hear you calling
Calling for the good old days
Because there were no good old days
These are the good old days
It's not about, tenements and needles
And all the evils in their eyes
And the backs of their minds
Daisy chains and school yard games
And a list of things we said we'd do tomorrow
A list of things we said we'd do tomorrow
The arcadian dream has all fallen through
But the Albion sails on course
So lets man the decks and hoist the rigging
Because the pig mans found the source
And theres twelve rude boys on the oars
BadlyDrawnGirl
Piano Tuna
Cheesypoof said:
What complete and utter fucking piffle.
Cheesypoof, I wonder how much they must be paying you to wilfully and continually make this much of a twat of yourself. FFS.
g force
Affects Shatner's Basoon
Dhoerty has nothing on Jarvis Cocker.
Joyriders - best song about what living in a shit town is really like.
We like driving on a Saturday night
Past the Leisure Centre, left at the lights.
We don't look for trouble but if it comes we don't run.
Looking out for trouble is what we call fun.
Hey you, you in the Jesus sandals
Wouldn't you like to come over
and watch some vandals smashing up someone's home?
We can't help it, we're so thick we can't think
Can't think of anything but shit, sleep and drink.
Oh, and we like women; "up the women" we say
And if we get lucky we might even meet some one day.
Hey you, you in the Jesus sandals...etc.
ister, we just want your car 'cos we're taking a girl to the reservoir.
Oh, all the papers say it's a tragedy but don't you want to come and see?
Mister we want your car...
And a song about the working class that Doherty couldn't possibly muster, even when sober.
Mis-shapes, mistakes, misfits.
Raised on a diet of broken biscuits, oh we don't look the same as you
We don't do the things you do, but we live around here too.
Oh really.
Mis-shapes, mistakes, misfits, we'd like to go to town but we can't risk it
Oh 'cause they just want to keep us out.
You could end up with a smash in the mouth just for standing out.
Oh really. Brothers, sisters, can't you see?
The future's owned by you and me.
There won't be fighting in the street.
They think they've got us beat, but revenge is going to be so sweet.
We're making a move, we're making it now, we're coming out of the side-lines.
Just put your hands up - it's a raid yeah:
We want your homes, we want your lives,
we want the things you won't allow us.
We won't use guns, we won't use bombs
We'll use the one thing we've got more of - that's our minds.
Check your lucky numbers, that much money could drag you under, oh.
What's the point of being rich if you can't think what to do with it?
'Cause you're so very thick.
Oh we weren't supposed to be, we learnt too much at school now
we can't help but see.
That the future that you've got mapped out is nothing much to shout about.
We're making a move, we're making it now,
We're coming out of the side-lines.
Just put your hands up - it's a raid.
We want your homes, we want your lives,
we want the things you won't allow us.
We won't use guns, we won't use bombs
We'll use the one thing we've got more of - that's our minds.
Brothers, sisters, can't you see?
The future's owned by you and me.
There won't be fighting in the street.
They think they've got us beat but revenge is going to be so sweet.
We're making a move. We're making it now.
We're coming out of the sidelines.
Just put your hands up - it's a raid.
We want your homes, we want your lives,
we want the things you won't allow us.
We won't use guns, we won't use bombs
We'll use the one thing we've got more of - that'sour minds.
And that's our minds. Yeah.
Joyriders - best song about what living in a shit town is really like.
We like driving on a Saturday night
Past the Leisure Centre, left at the lights.
We don't look for trouble but if it comes we don't run.
Looking out for trouble is what we call fun.
Hey you, you in the Jesus sandals
Wouldn't you like to come over
and watch some vandals smashing up someone's home?
We can't help it, we're so thick we can't think
Can't think of anything but shit, sleep and drink.
Oh, and we like women; "up the women" we say
And if we get lucky we might even meet some one day.
Hey you, you in the Jesus sandals...etc.
ister, we just want your car 'cos we're taking a girl to the reservoir.
Oh, all the papers say it's a tragedy but don't you want to come and see?
Mister we want your car...
And a song about the working class that Doherty couldn't possibly muster, even when sober.
Mis-shapes, mistakes, misfits.
Raised on a diet of broken biscuits, oh we don't look the same as you
We don't do the things you do, but we live around here too.
Oh really.
Mis-shapes, mistakes, misfits, we'd like to go to town but we can't risk it
Oh 'cause they just want to keep us out.
You could end up with a smash in the mouth just for standing out.
Oh really. Brothers, sisters, can't you see?
The future's owned by you and me.
There won't be fighting in the street.
They think they've got us beat, but revenge is going to be so sweet.
We're making a move, we're making it now, we're coming out of the side-lines.
Just put your hands up - it's a raid yeah:
We want your homes, we want your lives,
we want the things you won't allow us.
We won't use guns, we won't use bombs
We'll use the one thing we've got more of - that's our minds.
Check your lucky numbers, that much money could drag you under, oh.
What's the point of being rich if you can't think what to do with it?
'Cause you're so very thick.
Oh we weren't supposed to be, we learnt too much at school now
we can't help but see.
That the future that you've got mapped out is nothing much to shout about.
We're making a move, we're making it now,
We're coming out of the side-lines.
Just put your hands up - it's a raid.
We want your homes, we want your lives,
we want the things you won't allow us.
We won't use guns, we won't use bombs
We'll use the one thing we've got more of - that's our minds.
Brothers, sisters, can't you see?
The future's owned by you and me.
There won't be fighting in the street.
They think they've got us beat but revenge is going to be so sweet.
We're making a move. We're making it now.
We're coming out of the sidelines.
Just put your hands up - it's a raid.
We want your homes, we want your lives,
we want the things you won't allow us.
We won't use guns, we won't use bombs
We'll use the one thing we've got more of - that'sour minds.
And that's our minds. Yeah.
zip it ugly.
BadlyDrawnGirl
Piano Tuna
And another thing. The only good thing about Doherty is that he was born in Nuneaton, home of George Elliot, Ken Loach and yours truly.
And another. His only decent songs are 'I Get Along' and 'Don't Look Back Into The Sun' and they were mostly written by Carl Barat.
I mean, who the fuck mentions Catford in a lyric? Fucking Catford? It's wrong!!!!!
And another. His only decent songs are 'I Get Along' and 'Don't Look Back Into The Sun' and they were mostly written by Carl Barat.
I mean, who the fuck mentions Catford in a lyric? Fucking Catford? It's wrong!!!!!
brahaminda
...of the Mind
Babyshamble's new single
Everyones favourite junkie
(To the tune of any old clash/suede/menswear b-side)
Blah blah blah
hackneyed olde england reference
Blah Blah Blah
Reference to "fucked up" existence your daddy could buy you out of anytime
Blah blah blah
70's sitcom reference
Blah blah blah
Crap pun
Chorus:
Look at me
I'm everyones favourite junkie, me
(Apart from Lou Reed)
Look at me
I'm everyones favourite junkie, me
(And i'm shagging Kate Moss/no i'm not/yes i am/etc.)
Look at me
I'm everyones favourite junkie, me
(and i make Elton John look talented)
Repeat until the ghost of William Blake rises from his grave and strangles you
Everyones favourite junkie
(To the tune of any old clash/suede/menswear b-side)
Blah blah blah
hackneyed olde england reference
Blah Blah Blah
Reference to "fucked up" existence your daddy could buy you out of anytime
Blah blah blah
70's sitcom reference
Blah blah blah
Crap pun
Chorus:
Look at me
I'm everyones favourite junkie, me
(Apart from Lou Reed)
Look at me
I'm everyones favourite junkie, me
(And i'm shagging Kate Moss/no i'm not/yes i am/etc.)
Look at me
I'm everyones favourite junkie, me
(and i make Elton John look talented)
Repeat until the ghost of William Blake rises from his grave and strangles you
now now kiddo
ATOMIC SUPLEX
Member Since: 1985 Post Count: 3
Dear this thread,
Please fuck off.
Love AS XXX
Please fuck off.
Love AS XXX
BadlyDrawnGirl
Piano Tuna
'Fuck Forever' had to be one of the worst singles of 2005, in the same league as Akon and The Crazy Frog - but for sheer arrogant ineptitude rather than simple old-fashioned irritation value. Clearly just crack money.Flashman said:
Strangely enough, I met another obsessed fan and friend of Doherty in the pub the other day. I've now heard enough stories about him, his shitty drug tests, his gigs, his penchant for buying old Jaguars and crashing them to last me several lifetimes. Even she conceded he was losing it rapidly.
She did actually have a couple of his prison diaries in her possession - basically exercise books with some scribblings, some doodles and a few nascent lyrics in there. You would have thought they were sacred tomes from her goings on, but in fact they had a bit of 6th formesque unfinished poetry/lyrics, alongside some embarrasingly childlike drawings.
The reaction in the pub was quite telling. Let's put it this way: they weren't talking of Doherty like he was the new musical messiah, more a tragically overhyped goon on self-destruct.
She did actually have a couple of his prison diaries in her possession - basically exercise books with some scribblings, some doodles and a few nascent lyrics in there. You would have thought they were sacred tomes from her goings on, but in fact they had a bit of 6th formesque unfinished poetry/lyrics, alongside some embarrasingly childlike drawings.
The reaction in the pub was quite telling. Let's put it this way: they weren't talking of Doherty like he was the new musical messiah, more a tragically overhyped goon on self-destruct.
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