Recorded with the help of a hefty government grant at Big Sound Studios (the same place as Intravaganza) with well renound sound guy Wayne Connolly it's the smoothest sounding and probably best Flat Stanley release to day.
So he crashed the party/looking for his buddy/he found her in the backyard/staring at the sky/her drugs were too strong/ his weren't working/they would fight about it until next week
How was the party/I heard on the grapevine it was so fine and everybody had a great time/Yeah yeah/Feeling so innocent when I smell your scent and I remember your scent/Ba ba di ba ba...
So he missed the party/said he had to study/took it to the beach house/with a cask of wine/he sat in an armchair/writing letters/and he did not stop drinking till his head was spinning
Back to the party/I heard on the grapevine etc/Feeling so lonely when he sits around and he listens to Joni? Ba ba di ba ba etc.
Initially cited as the albums primary track. Starts with a bit of a poppy feel and soon calms down relying mostly of bass and gentle guitar before changing tempo and making a slightly faster, fuller sounding chorus. Pete's singing is either loved or hated on this track. The first recording most people will ever hear of Dave's drumming. Hmm. It's a bit more poppy than many of Pete's earlier efforts but with the same feel to it. Maybe a bit more punctual and pop. Yeah. The soloing stuff at the end is a nice touch.
The modern man lives on the modern road, the restless home and on it goes. Where it leads it always flows, where it ends no one knows, my friend.
I could not believe the pictures that you paint of where we've been. Words are all obituaries for a time I've never seen. When the lines have all been drawn and the ties have all been cracked I will meet you there for breakfast and we won't believe our luck. It will all be open slided when the tide has swept away all the daily distractions and swept away the mobile homes.
I believe that it's time we packed our things and took 'em up to that place where the phone won't ring. I've been told that it's cold and it always rains. But I'll take that chance, and I'll take that break my friends.
You will always hold the memory of the widest space we know and the way we filled the weekends with imaginary woes. When you're drowing in the ocean, or you're drowning in the sea, you are drowing with a friend when you are drowning next to me. It will all be open slided when the tide has swept away all the daily distractions and washed away all the filth and scum that keeps us down and draws us to this place where you say things to my face.
I can not believe the pictures that you paint of where we've been, all the houses, the fridges, the places inbetween, when the lines have been drawn, the ties have all been cut, I will meet you there for breakfast and we won't believe our luck.
If it's fact or if it's fiction, if it's obviously fake I will always believe you and that might be my big mistake.
Max's only effort on the CD, due largely to his distinct lack of song writing during the period leading up to it I think I've been told. Has almost a country feel to it at the start. Dave's drumming comes to the fore. Works nicely into the song itself and Max's much debated vocal stylings. When I first heard this song at the Austral hotel a while back Max commented that he'd been told it sounded like a Billy Bragg song. And it certainly does have that feel to it at times. The drums really hold the song together at times, allowing the guitars and even the bass to do other more interesting, madcapped things. I dunno. It's a very good song, and a lot of people like it. But it's certainly a lot more boppy than Flat Stanley usually produce.
I can't go over if I know he's there. She can't come out if they have made some plans. We make small talk like strangers all the time when not alone (woooo oooo). This is about a man I barely met. I shook his hand when we were introduced. I asked about his work, he asked me how I know his wife.
You'd think I might know how to look both ways. Commit sins of omission every day. You think it's wise to start something I don't know how to stop. (wooo ooo) To start something I don't know how to stop. Repeat that again a couple of times.
Relying largely on two verses and a musical interlude. Comes down heavily to the ability of Max and Paul to play their guitars. Works to a bit of a crescendo or something at the end and ends slowly with a little bit of feedback thrown in for good measure.
It's another backstabing for Adelaide and another blow to our demographic. It's a victory for economic forces and the Advertiser cover, read your page three tragedy.
She's going to the east coast. She's going to the east coast. She's starting a new life there. And when she's sick and bored of life in Sydney she'll talk of New York city.
It's another fucked small town mentality. When you're bored you're blaming her place (?). When everybodies talking of the industry and everyone that leaves leaves one more parking space.
They're going to the east coast. They're going to the east cost. They're starting a business there. And when they're sick and tired of living in squalor they'll talk of coming home.
Go. I'm never going to the east coast. I'll stay right here and live a life of obscurity can't figure out this bit and troubles of the big smoke.
You Can Negotiate Anything
All instrumental, all big rock.
The Forbidden Dance
The following two songs I haven't written anything about but the lyrics come direct from Paul Champion himself.
Here's what happened, here's my side. It starts already late at night,
starts with looking in my eyes. Somebody tell me how I look, someone light
this cigarette, just don't light me yet. I want her to make me look good.
I'm all pupils and all hips. I'm all hips and hands and lips. I want her
to
make me look good, want that fake print up against my T-shirt and my long
bare legs. Make me look good. (That's why we all needed a mirror, and
that's what all the fuss was about, that's called making an impression,
that's called the forbidden dance).
Lost To History
Nothing to repent, nothing to report, it's all on track, it's all my fault.
I would have opened fire with the other guys but the whites of the their
eyes were never clear to me, saved by their obscurity. An unsolved mystery,
now it's lost to history. Some of the other guys said it was for real but
we're not upset, it's no big deal. I would have stayed and waited with my
fellow man but their plots and their plans were all too clear to see. And
here I go, I'm making a virtue of necessity. Now we're lost to history.
But
the bottle, and the gram, and the olive branch, and the open hand, and
spectators on the shore - well, I guess we'd hoped for so much more.