Stella's Lyric Log: Edition 2

Occupant has been in the studio since April 2 and has laid down about 3o tracks thus far. Imagine me, your devoted Stella Abdul, standing behind a tv table bearing little cubes of pressed meat on a tin tray by your grocer's freezer. I'm wearing an apron with the word Occupant on it, and I'm offering you these cubes - only instead of tongue-coloured cubes, really, these are lyric samples. In fact today I have for you the lyrics and chords for a sweet folk ballad called Roaming Free in Rome, which you can sing down by the docks today!

But, before we get to that, here's a brief run down on some of last week's yayas.


"The future is confirmed" is a haunting prophecy of pop music. Music inspired by those incredibly menacing robots that Gumby used to wangle to paint the house but instead they'd rip up the joint and send Mrs. Gumba into hysterics. (Yes synths, baby.)

I am bearing blossoms for my Y grid female

I bear a plastic bosom for my X grid male

I am unit 96018-K
I want to recreate my units with my Y grid female

I am unit 6978-P
I am willing to recreate my units with my X grid male

Saturn 5-X-1 Confirmed
Venus H-3-7 Acknowledged

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This one is our Le Tigre track. Recipe: Casio Rock rhythm, three notes, monotone....DIY!

My mom’s CDs

dollypartonbeatrixpotterkatebushshirleybasseylenahorneSIGMUND FREUD
Mymom’s CDs/Mymom’s CD’s/I’m sitting here listening to mymom’s CDs.
pattismithellafitzgeraldnicobjorkand peaches ALFRED HITCHCOCK
Mymom’s CDs/Mymom’s CD’s/I’m sitting here listening to mymom’s CDs.
nancysinatrasineadoconnorearthakitjudygarlandmariannefaithfulARISTOTLE
Mymom’s CDs/Mymom’s CD’s/I’m sitting here listening to mymom’s CDs.
ninasimonearethafranklindustyspringfieldkimgordonlorettalynneHENRYVlll
Mymom’s CDs/My mom’sCD’s/I’m sitting here listening to mymom’s CDs.
jonimitchelllucindawilliamsjoanboaezdianakrallcarolpopeTHE POPE
Mymom’s CDs/Mymom’s CD’s/I’m sitting here listening to mymom’s CDs.

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Here's the wailin' Billy Bragg number done acoustically for irony sake.

Valve State Model 2-0

God Bless Marshall Amplifiers
Valve state model 2-0
There’s input gain bass and treble
That’s how much I know

You can boost your channels
Or use normal channels
which will take yer back to Dover ya know

You can increase your presence
Or your volume
Or yer can go back to Cannery Row

God Bless Marshall Amplifiers
Valve State Model 2-o
There’s input gain and treble
That’s how much I know.

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Sting meets...... himself, probably.

The Paradox of Perfection

I’m so much better than them
In so many ways
I can keep it up
For twelve straight hours
And still come across as gay

I can re-unite the people
Who’ve been warring since old man time
Dropped his glasses in his
Ancient cup of wine

And yet with all this perfection
I still can’t make you see
That you’re the only one I want
The only truth for me

I’m totally amazing
You can see it in my eyes
When photographers try to capture me
The use the footcandles from my eyes

I and I don’t care
For the tricks of little men
I and I be the solar plexus of
Humanity’s Zen

And still with all this perfection
I still can’t make you see
That you’re the only one I want
The only girl for me
(sniffle)

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Now grab your '34 Martin, and get yer angel voice on...This one's a Joan Baez tune. (chord letters might be screwy due to excuses excuses)

Roaming Free in Rome

C
I was in an English cab
F C
Sang a song by the Clash

But this was too subversive
G
Like my pencil thin moustache
C
So they kicked me out of the country
F
They sent me back to Rome
C
I couldn’t fly or board a train
G C
So I had to walk back home

So I swam the English Channel
and scurried across France
Just escaped the guillotine
by the seat of my pants
The ghost of Joey Strummer
Asked me for a light
But I couldn’t flick my Zippo
without begging for a fight

So I had to burrow underground
the rest of the treacherous way
Felt like I was reliving the last days of Pompeii
But when in Rome it’s different
You can walk around
Singing songs ‘bout fucking Bush’s ass into the ground

Fucking him with spumoni
Fungu the fuckin clown
Fuck the fucker with a champion rabid bassett-hound
Sing ‘bout Tony Blair with his balls inside a snare
Lynch him El Duce style in fact it’s only fair

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and for homage to fromage sake here's one we did this morning...

Bobby’s Trip

I got pages and pages of this shit
Pages from pages from the tarot deck
Messages from ages back
Packages from Scottish chicks
Boxes from Cuban heels
Duffle bags from Chinese deals
Empty bowls from Persian meals
Carry-on luggage from Am track wheels
Tipping prows from drunken keels
Knighted sods from baby seals
Burning rust from burning wheels
Everybody telling me
How it feels

O babe I was being rhetorical then
Haven’t you ever had a yen?