ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN SINGLES : #052

aka The Vinyl Villain incorporating Sexy Loser

#052: The Loft – ‘Up The Hill and Down the Slope’ (Creation Records ’85)

Hello friends,

the thing is, you know, when English is not your first language, you’re always more than happy when you get hold of a lyric sheet for a song you admire. These days of course, with this new modern internet thingy, it’s easy most of the times – although there are a few songs here and there which are so obscure that no lyrics can be found on the net whatsoever …. something which drives me nuts, because I always thought that the lyrics are as important as the music.

The Stranglers, for example, had a merchandise stall in Surrey you could write to in the early 80’s. I forgot how it worked exactly, I mean, I must have paid them somehow: probably with an international money order or whatever these things were called back then? Those complicated manoeuvres are hard to believe these days – where you just click paypal and two new bathtubs are at your doorstep the very next morning. But I digress – again. I was so happy when I finally held some badges and the lyric sheets for ‘Rattus Norvegicus’ and ‘No More Heroes’ in my hands – it was a revelation, believe me, to finally being able to understand what exactly they were singing. Okay, The Stranglers might not be the best example, because most of their lyrics are questionable at the best of times, but hey, I was young and did not know better!

The Stranglers’ lyrics were a revelation for me as a teen, yes, but when finally getting hold of the ones for ‘Unknown Pleasures’ and the first Clash album, I felt like Saul on the road to Damascus, folks! I don’t know whether I am able to make this understandable to native speakers like you, because, naturally, problems like this will not be common with you …. unless perhaps if you’re into French chansons and your French is as bad as mine.

Anyway. There is a point to all of this and here it comes: when I was reading David Cavanagh’s book about Creation Records (which, especially for its price, is a bit boring perhaps altogether, I must say), I constantly had a feeling in the back of my head that something in its title sounded vaguely familiar, but, you know, I was never able to precisely tell what it was that it reminded me of. The penny didn’t drop until I reached page 170 of the book (“The Creation Records Story – My Magpie Eyes are Hungry for the Prize”, to give you its full title), because there parts of the lyrics for today’s record were printed:

„Oh, my magpie eyes are hungry for the prize
Give me the money and I’ll shoot it right between the eyes
My greedy eyes, my beady eyes – they swivel and they stare
Thinking of the bright things; I might just get them there
Please …. don’t say no

Once around the fair – just so I know
Year in, year out gypsy lorries go from town to town
Ghost trains down country lanes, great big wheels by farmers’ fields
Hollow sounds travel round and round, money cackles in the lucky town
Over the hill and down the slope
To the rattle of sound I go in hope

Oh, my magpie eyes are hungry for the prize
Give me the gun and I’ll shoot it right between the eyes – I’m taking aim
Stalls with prizes that once meant luxury
Tempting but not knowing how old they now seem
And those sad, tearful journeymen running on their dreams
Showing off in the rain in last year’s jeans“

Now, two things happened then. First, I looked up what ‘magpie’ means (I think in this context Astor didn’t mean the bird, but rather a scrounger), second I thought to myself: “boy, this is such a brilliant record – why the heck is it missing in your singles box?!” …. and ordered it straightaway (well, the Optic Nerve re-release I ordered, not the original 7”, but no matter), no international money order whatsoever involved, for my and your listening pleasure:

mp3:  The Loft – Up The Hill and Down The Slope

What a great band they were, The Loft! So were The Weather Prophets, in fact. I found Peter Astor’s solo output a bit … let’s say – difficult. But that’s just me, probably …

Take good care,

Dirk