On Grand Themes

Our attempts to race album number 2 have halted for a variety of reasons. My non-band activities are largely to blame but there are many additional reasons. Another that springs to mind is the slight paucity of material, and in some instances sub-squid-standard material.

What we did manage to record is at once encouraging and discouraging...and ultimately not enough. Sometimes I listen and I hear gold, sometimes I listen and I hear lead.

What does strike me is the, I believe, inadvertent partial move from my randy sex lyrics to addressing the big issues. Contained within the short set of songs we cover euthanasia, abortion, illicit (gay, if Silky is right)love, slave trade, indentured prostitution, Uri Geller and scientific animal abuse. Birth appears to be absent and I am planning to address this, although I feel Pink Floyd's Embryo says all there is to possibly say on the subject. Perhaps tax free superannuation contributions is another hole in the story? What about an eliotesque Key To All Mythologies?

Not wishing to be too National Times about things by ending with a few questions but are missing anything else? Or have we covered all possible grand themes?

Tyche Has An Eight Leg Hold On Us

I took leave from work on my Key to All Mythologies for a little trip to Brunswick. The 3RRR studios glowed in the lunchtime sun. The pale yellow brick of 1960s warehouse put me in mind of years spent at Kazari warehouse in the gloaming of the last century.
The first surpirse was that I didn't expect steps immediately inside the door. I was greeted at the reception by the friendly Kate who assured me I was very lucky to have won. Out came a friendly bearded chap and assured me I was very lucky to have won. We all smiled silently to each other as we reflected on my luck, particularly for having won. then the bearded man went off to fetch the bounty. He was immediately replaced in front of my by a friendly woman who appeared from out the back who assured me I was very luck to have won. By now I was starting to run dry on my "you bet"s, "oh yes, indeed"s and "very grateful"s (for we are very grateful!). Friendly bearded man re-appeared with large box and assured me I was lucky. Kate then took a few sharp pictures of me looking sharp, and lucky, next to the large box and I made my way out of the building, after appropriate thank yous, to a chorus that sounded not unlike the chained prisoner in the Life of Brian (you luck lucky bastrad...they must think the sun shines out of your arse).
I could not take the guilt that this luck, and more accurately this over assurance of luck brought, so the next morning I set out by steed at first light once more to Brunswick town and dumped the large box on Paddy. Has he opened it?