1. |
Tomorrow Today
03:44
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In an idealistic world,
The clock limits not time,
The paper never fades away,
The chrome it always shines.
The girl on the TV,
Her teeth are white as snow,
She chatters on the telephone,
For real it’s just a show.
Tell me just what is it, that makes all of our homes,
So different from yesterday, so appealing to behold,
This is tomorrow, tomorrow today.
Naked is the man,
Gotta a body-builder tan,
He swings his giant lollipop,
He’s looking for a fan.
Half way up the stairs,
Woman’s work is never done,
Most cleaners just don’t reach this far,
The all new constellation.
Tell me just what is it, that makes all of our homes,
So different from yesterday, so appealing to behold,
This is tomorrow, tomorrow today.
New furniture’s a must,
Change will get rid of the dust,
The style should be contemporary,
Less is more, less of that fuss.
You want to keep a man,
Keep house spic and span,
Beef steak in a non-stick pan,
Fuck like a whore if you can.
Tell me just what is it, that makes all of our homes,
So different from yesterday, so appealing to behold,
This is tomorrow, tomorrow today.
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2. |
Les Frères Hérisson
04:09
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Avec ou sans rien,
sauver un moulin,
élever des poulains,
porter des Ray-Bans
Les gars d’Alençon,
ils sont étonnants
ils donnent des frissons
les frères Hérisson
Deux frères sérieux
dans un pré gadouilleux
plus jamais un non-lieux
Piacé le Radieux
Les gars d’Alençon,
ils sont étonnants
ils donnent des frissons
les frères Hérisson
Perret au Corbusier
Le Havre à Piacé
voiture en osier
cabane pour Jean Genet
Les gars d’Alençon,
ils sont étonnants
ils donnent des frissons
les frères Hérisson
Un esprit philanthropique
un projet utopique
punctum de Barthes, ça pique
sacré Ben et Nic
Les gars d’Alençon,
ils sont étonnants
ils donnent des frissons
les frères Hérisson
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3. |
The Call
02:47
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Here the grass is green,
Can see it through the glass,
The pane is cracked and the wind is whistling.
The river’s running,
The water is through the mill,
The wheels of steel, they keep on turning faster.
The cold is in the air,
The damp is in the walls,
the stench of death really won’t be long now.
What are we to do?
We can’t go on like this.
This ain’t no life that we are living.
Hey Mr Architect,
build a world for us,
we can see the towers on the horizon.
The dream it won’t be real,
’til there’s a modern life for all,
come lift our homes and our hearts as you promised.
The people in the towns,
are starting out again,
reaching for the sky like no tomorrow.
The folk in the fields,
are downing tools for good,
no more to hear sweet angelus ring out around.
The factories filling up,
Churning out the goods,
the machines are making light work of our labours
Tomorrow we’ll be free,
or so the wise man says,
liberation for the nation is all or nothing.
Hey Mr Architect,
build a world for us,
we can see the towers on the horizon.
The dream it won’t be real,
’til there’s a modern life for all,
come lift our homes and our hearts as you promised.
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4. |
La Réponse
02:38
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Les campagnes ils doivent changer,
Il faut les réaménager,
Juste comme on a fait dans les grandes villes.
Ce n’est pas une simple remaniement,
Il faut revoir les plans de A à Z,
Commençons par une grande route pour la voiture.
Maintenant il faut construire une ferme,
et dans les champs, la voir debout,
à l’aurore, à midi, jusqu’à l’épuisement de la lumière.
Au dessus la terre vivra l’homme,
dans le confort qu’il mérite,
printemps, été, automne, et hiver.
Et aussi cher Norbert Bézard,
il faut bâtir le village coopératif, net et joyeux,
centre de la vie rurale.
ni fantaisie socio-économique,
ni artifice doctrinale,
C’est tout simplement un projet architectural.
Au premier tour du bétonnière
La campagne se réveillera.
Construisons notre vision ingénieux.
Coulons les pilotis.
Construire les bâties.
Debout, Piacé le Radieux.
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5. |
The Hedgehog Song
05:09
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Little and spiky and round,
feet touching base, got my nose to the ground,
Cross all the roads to the sound,
Cars that go fast, I get scared I won’t last, I’m aghast, I’m not having a blast,
A bore to which I am bound.
In my dreams I’m flying, high up in the sky and
Down below me, people walking by but
I wasn’t made to fly
I wasn’t made to fly
Black is the tarmac of night,
Petroleum void, maybe not quite,
Curb seems so far, left and right,
Should I move on, is my time gone, my life done, my light has it shone ?
Petrified, frozen in fright.
In my dreams I’m flying ...
Crossing the river of Styx,
One ten ton truck, one ball of pricks,
Needs more a Nightingale fix,
His line was flat, there was no caveat, that was that, there was no coming back,
whatever the pain that inflicts.
In my dreams I’m flying ...
Travelling on, field to town,
Never look back, never look down,
living today, not a frown,
Highway at night, dancing the light, red and white, what a beautiful sight
Nature ‘s clown wearing his crown.
In my dreams I’m flying ...
Little and spiky and round,
feet touching base, got my nose to the ground,
Cross all the roads to the sound,
Cars that go fast, I get scared I won’t last, I’m aghast, I’m not having a blast,
A bore to which I am bound.
In my dreams I’m flying ...
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6. |
The Haricot Song
05:16
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On the terraced roof, there is a room,
Quite amorphous, like a mother’s womb,
No one knows what lies behind the door,
We knew back then, but now we can’t be sure,
It’s open once, then closed for ever more.
Tiny creature, curled up in a ball,
Stretching out then stepping into crawl,
Autonomy means standing on your own,
Touch the sky, now that you have grown,
Look out there, the seeds that you have sown.
Gentle breeze, the sun shines overhead,
Mother nature’s son gets out of bed,
Lazily, he wonders what to do,
Sort out his act, buckle up his shoe ?
Who me ? Not I, please don’t misconstrue.
Dreaming on the deck, for me is part,
Intrumental process of my art,
Through work freedom you don’t get,
Work means perspiration that means sweat,
Forsaken world, better to forget.
‘Pon the stack of boxes lies the jewel,
Twist and turn as does the lesbian rule,
Open space that’s sheltered by a screen,
Plastic gesture, oh that’s rarely seen,
Freedom is a clothoid pear-shaped bean.
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7. |
Everyone's Museum
02:59
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Take a look
What have we here ?
What is this thing of no importance ?
What is it for ?
Where did it come from ?
To whom did it belong, through inadvertence ?
Here's something else
Curious wee thing
I feel quite charmed through intuition
Sentiments
Flowing through my veins
Spurious no doubt, raise my suspicions
Should we forget ?
Should we hedge a bet ?
Should we build our own museum ?
This is all new
Though it'll soon be through
This could just work with some carpe diem
The world is full
Too full of stuff
Two hundred years of mass production
Can barely breathe
For all the dust
All the twist or bust since the revolution
But stop
Look at these things
Look at yourself, your own reflection
What you see,
Is what you see,
Where you came from, no deformation
And now
Where will you go ?
To become what ? Before September
What can you change ?
Change can you not ?
Forget me not, do not remember.
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8. |
The Stuff of Dreams
03:14
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One zero zero since the swiss cabaret,
Less is more has come and gone, it faded away,
Marcel Duchamp lead the us children astray,
losing the plot, a conceptual play.
Here are the brooms to brush the cobwebs away,
Here’s the dress my sister wore, on easter sunday,
Here’s a lamp to light up at the end of the day,
It all here in Musée Calbet.
Dream what you want to dream cos dreams come true,
Be who you want to be, be me, be you,
(If you want to)
Is painting really dead, when did it pass away?
Can language really halt the artistic decay?
Can post-modernism show us the way?
Anything goes in complete disarray.
Here is a doll made from paper maché,
Here’s a jug made from sedimentary clay,
Here is a cane that’s been whittled away,
It all here in Musée Calbet.
Dream what you want to dream cos dreams come true,
Be who you want to be, be me, be you,
(If you want to)
Modern life for rabbits, here today,
Here comes the hostess, drinks on the tray,
Flying cows and hedgehogs, seems faraway,
Bonsoir Monsieur Freud, what do you say ?
This is how we lived it, at work and play,
This is how we baked our bread, every day,
This is what we used to wear, before we were gay,
It all here in Musée Calbet.
Dream what you want to dream cos dreams come true,
Be who you want to be, be me, be you,
(If you want to)
This is how we lived it, at work and play,
This is how we baked our bread, every day,
This is what we used to wear, before we were gay,
It all here in Musée Calbet.
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9. |
Hotel Dynamite
03:08
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Won’t you come and stay,
Won’t you come and play away,
Won’t you come on down,
Give up your cube for a tube.
Won’t you come tonight,
Everything will be alright,
The stars are shining bright,
At Hotel Dynamite.
A radical transformation in short-term accommodation.
Won’t you come and make,
Won’t you come and bake a cake,
Then sleep through till you wake,
Get in you car, it’s not far.
Won’t you come tonight,
Everything will be alright,
The stars are shining bright,
At Hotel Dynamite.
A radical transformation in short-term accommodation.
Won’t you come and draw,
That’s what a pencil’s for,
Sketch till you eyes are sore,
Red, green and blue, it’s so you.
Won’t you come tonight,
Everything will be alright,
The stars are shining bright,
At Hotel Dynamite.
A radical transformation in short-term accommodation.
Won’t you come and dance,
Won’t you come and take a chance,
On sculptural romance,
Climb up inside for a ride,
Won’t you come tonight,
Everything will be alright,
The stars are shining bright,
At Hotel Dynamite.
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DMC & FRIENDS France
DMC & Friends began inadvertently in 2014 as David Michael Clarke was preparing an exhibition for the Galerie du Dourven in Brittany, France. Together with Elina Bry, he wrote four songs that tell the story of « Piacé-le-Radieux ». Two years later, while setting up a new show for the Musée Calbet, near Toulouse, Maxwell Farrington joined DMC to write some new songs about flying hedgehogs and more. ... more
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