LET'S TAX THE WAGES OF SIN: THE OFFICIAL SAVING BLOG TRIBUTE TO MICRODISNEY (PART 2)

I would like to continue my tribute to Microdisney (part 1 here) perhaps unwisely, considrnggerng I have just consumed an entire bottle of Bordeaux..

This post is dedicated to my one true friend Lotte Jennencken who could tolerate my summer MD obsession.

Lottey im Berlin

The first two tracks on The Clock Comes Down The Stairs made up my introduction to Microdisney. They remain as one of the essential 1-2 punches of the MD catalog.

MICRODISNEY - HORSE OVERBOARD
MICRODISNEY - BIRTHDAY GIRL

Horse Overboard
The first MD song I ever heard, being played by an older friend of mine after a verbal fight with his wife... A surreal story of a romance sustained by maritime separation followed by marital discontent upon elderly reunion. Fairly perfect, musically.
"Can we sleep alone? My wife is a horse. Poor old sailor boy, beached forever more."

Birthday Girl
A classic tale, familiar to the Cathal Coughlan lyrical oeuvre, that of the terrible fall from bouncing baby to horrid man (see "Hello Rascals"). An exhausted mother gives birth to a beautiful baby boy-- a scene of holy joy. However, the holy moment stops at birth and the dark dawn of the real begins: "Without fear, zero years, come to seek damnation, and the vale of tears." The future wretch lives these preliminary moments in famous peace: "And my claim to fame is that then I was that baby boy (like Jesus)." When Cathal asks "Will this night last forever?" the answer is resolutely negative... it's all downhill from birth, basically. The same baby boy grows to a disgraceful sinner: "When I wed I will dream, in a champagne haze, of my first affair".. "Feed the birds poison bread in the square beneath my place of birth." Though it is his birthday, his mother, the 'birthday girl' is the only one who celebrates. "When they bury me will the people know of the baby boy?" Nope, they will only see a withered old drunk who poisoned birds. "Birthday girl, now I am begging, but I still think of the baby." Basically, we all still think of the baby, wherein lies our misery.
(Also: video of live performance of this song here . Note Cathal's passionate delivery and audience's nonplussed indifference.) 

These next two tracks come paired on the first side of the "In The World" 7-inch (as well as bonus tracks on the reissue of We Hate You South African Bastards). Both songs feature abstruse anglo-angsty lyrical gems and brilliant synthetic pop compositions, and both, hilariously, ending with spoken word outros merging into fade-out. Class!



MICRODISNEY - LOFTHOLDINGSWOOD
MICRODISNEY - TEDDY DOGS

Loftholdingswood
"Look into Loftholdingswood.." The dirge begins with this ambiguous command. The following lyrical content seems to suggest Loftholdingswood (a name about which google brings up nothing other than the song) as a sort of dark English wildlands in which the primal evil of man is bared without shame. The unfortunate, apologetic ingenue is accosted: "Aren't you glad you were born in England, aren't you glad you were born an angel - That's why you think you see everywhere struggles to be free."  What you mistake for man's yearning for liberty is only greedy scramble and self-serving satisfaction, so says Cathal...
Spoken word phenomenology: "I'm walking through the door, I'm walking down the steps, I am in the car, I am in the car, I am in the car, I am in the car, I am in the car... You will never see - me - again."
(ALSO N.B.- a fantastically concise pop summary of the bible: "I died on the cross, and now I'm the boss.")

Teddy Dogs
"What an aimless way to live.." This is the best line to begin any song, I think. This song as well as "Loftholdingswood" are forever associated with my solo Berlin rambles of last year's summer, wherein my elderly discontent and my utopian european mythos of younger years mixed into a rich froth. Everything in this song is perfect through to the aforementioned spoken word outro, in which the name of the amoral woodland is once again summoned in a fanciful curse:
"I want you to put down what you've been doing, put down everything you've ever done, tear it to pieces, you've got to forget everything, soon you're going to be old, your hair's going to fall out, you're gonna die, you'll cease to exist... before you do, I want you to look upon this scene: two sickly, blond, anglo-saxon heads passing beneath the powerful magic wand. Isn't it sweet? I don't care, I want no part of it. I just want you to look into Loftholdingswood.. I just want you to look, look, look, look, look, look..."

Volkspark Freidrichshain, eternally connected in my musical memory with Loftholdingswood/Teddy Dogs. Isn't it sweet? I don't care, I want no part of it.