The weather's been shite, and everyone's a bit down in the dumps and needs cheering up, SO...
...how about seeing a bloke play a saw to the tune of Wichita Lineman by Glenn Campbell? "Hooray", I hear you cry...
Take it away Rhodri Marsden, writer of this consistently entertaining blog and all sorts of other stuff. And a thoroughly nice chap, to boot.
Click here to be musically fulfilled (it takes a moment or two to load, but it's worth every second of the wait)...
Monday, 2 July 2007
Saturday, 16 June 2007
Me old Cocker
Friday night was fantastic. Despite getting stuck in a traffic jam on the A14 for a whole hour way past midnight (delays at that time of night are against the rules, in my book), it couldn't take the shine off a great evening at the music venue the Luminaire in Kilburn, north west London.
Like father, like son, my dad and I are loyal creatures when we give our hearts to a particular artiste's music. Me, the ethereal-voiced Green Gartside of Scritti Politti; him, Bob Lind, an American folk singer with a special talent for a clever lyric.
Both have careers and lives that run spookily parallel in many ways. Neither can be considered prolific, each with only a handful of studio albums to substantiate their long service in the music business. Both have had well-documented problems with substance abuse. They've had just enough commercial success to make a living over the years, but tend to find more acclaim from their peers and critics than from the masses. Both are exponents of beautifully crafted, meaningful songs that often touch the heart.
After his 26 years of refusal to gig due to crippling stage fright and panic attacks, a dream came true when I finally got to see Green play live last year, also at the Luminaire. It's a great place to watch music - Time Out magazine's live venue of the year for 2006, no less, and the very definition of "up close and personal". This is the ideal venue to mingle with your heroes; it's like having a gig in your (slightly larger than average) front room.
Finally seeing (and meeting) Green was great, but it got me wishing that, somehow, my father could have a similar experience with Mr Lind one day. It seemed that a trip to Lind's native Florida, where most of his gigs seem to be, would be the only way to make this happen.
But then the unexpected happened. During a phone call with my sister, she casually mentioned "Oh, have you seen that Bob Lind's playing at the Luminaire?" I hadn't, the regularity of the weekly email from the venue to advertise what's on meaning that I don't always read it as throughly as I used to. We had to go. I called Dad to announce the amazing news - amazing indeed, as Lind hadn't played live in England before, and hadn't even visited since 1966 when he laid down some tracks in a London studio. Dad initially fussed over how he would get the day off work, before coming round to his son's thinking that life's too short to miss opportunities like these.
So, to last night. Dad's wife Dinah joined us for the trip. Having become quite a fan of Bob's myself, I got that same, I-never-expected-this-to-happen feeling as I did when I first set eyes on Green in the flesh, as Bob casually wandered into the room to take in the female support act. It's strange to be in the close presence of your heroes.
He proceeded to play a superb set to a full house, young and old, who whooped and applauded the veteran performer throughout the evening. Bob, clearly touched by the warmth of the audience, wore a smile as wide as the Mississippi as he basked in deserved adulation. Later, he was joined by the fabulous Richard Hawley, (of Longpigs, High Llamas and solo fame) for three songs, who ad-libbed most brilliantly on guitar (he'd only met Bob earlier that day for the first time, with no time for rehearsal).
Fluent in his patter and repartee with the crowd between each song, Lind expressed his gratitude to artists such as Hawley and Jarvis Cocker for helping to raise awareness of his music on this side of the Atlantic (there is a Pulp song titled "Bob Lind"), just two of over 200 bands and artists to cover his music.
After a third encore, he left the stage for the last time. Dinah, rarely shy in coming forward and determined that Dad should get to meet with Bob, decided to steal a march on those loitering hopefully by the bar for Bob to appear, instead inviting herself through the curtain behind the stage in search of the man himself. She re-appeared seconds later and called to me to "Get your father through here!"
Bob Lind, alone in the Green Room, greeted us warmly. Dad shared a conversation with him whilst I just leant on the doorpost and and savoured the moment. Like father, like son. Some people joined us in the room. It was Richard Hawley and an instantly recognisable, bespectacled, painfully thin bloke. "This is Jarvis, Bob", he said. Bob acknowledged them, but was in no hurry to finish his chat with Dad. I lit a cigarette and tried to look cool. Fucking hell, we're alone in a room back-stage with three musical legends. The Pulp front-man looked nervous as he waited his turn with Bob. Hawley tucked into some red wine. Bob readily agreed to a couple of photos with Dad, and we all shook hands and left.
Bob Lind, Jarvis Cocker and Richard Hawley. And us. In a small room. I must admit to feeling slightly star-struck by the whole, bizarre encounter. Outside, I tried explaining to Dad and Dinah what had just happened, as, other than Bob, they clearly had no idea what exalted company they'd just kept.
During the journey home, Dinah was still grappling with her lack of recognition of a megastar. "Well, I have heard of Joe Cocker", she claimed, "but I've no idea what he looks like".
I just smiled and kept driving. Nights like these don't come around too often.
Like father, like son, my dad and I are loyal creatures when we give our hearts to a particular artiste's music. Me, the ethereal-voiced Green Gartside of Scritti Politti; him, Bob Lind, an American folk singer with a special talent for a clever lyric.
Both have careers and lives that run spookily parallel in many ways. Neither can be considered prolific, each with only a handful of studio albums to substantiate their long service in the music business. Both have had well-documented problems with substance abuse. They've had just enough commercial success to make a living over the years, but tend to find more acclaim from their peers and critics than from the masses. Both are exponents of beautifully crafted, meaningful songs that often touch the heart.
After his 26 years of refusal to gig due to crippling stage fright and panic attacks, a dream came true when I finally got to see Green play live last year, also at the Luminaire. It's a great place to watch music - Time Out magazine's live venue of the year for 2006, no less, and the very definition of "up close and personal". This is the ideal venue to mingle with your heroes; it's like having a gig in your (slightly larger than average) front room.
Finally seeing (and meeting) Green was great, but it got me wishing that, somehow, my father could have a similar experience with Mr Lind one day. It seemed that a trip to Lind's native Florida, where most of his gigs seem to be, would be the only way to make this happen.
But then the unexpected happened. During a phone call with my sister, she casually mentioned "Oh, have you seen that Bob Lind's playing at the Luminaire?" I hadn't, the regularity of the weekly email from the venue to advertise what's on meaning that I don't always read it as throughly as I used to. We had to go. I called Dad to announce the amazing news - amazing indeed, as Lind hadn't played live in England before, and hadn't even visited since 1966 when he laid down some tracks in a London studio. Dad initially fussed over how he would get the day off work, before coming round to his son's thinking that life's too short to miss opportunities like these.
So, to last night. Dad's wife Dinah joined us for the trip. Having become quite a fan of Bob's myself, I got that same, I-never-expected-this-to-happen feeling as I did when I first set eyes on Green in the flesh, as Bob casually wandered into the room to take in the female support act. It's strange to be in the close presence of your heroes.
He proceeded to play a superb set to a full house, young and old, who whooped and applauded the veteran performer throughout the evening. Bob, clearly touched by the warmth of the audience, wore a smile as wide as the Mississippi as he basked in deserved adulation. Later, he was joined by the fabulous Richard Hawley, (of Longpigs, High Llamas and solo fame) for three songs, who ad-libbed most brilliantly on guitar (he'd only met Bob earlier that day for the first time, with no time for rehearsal).
Fluent in his patter and repartee with the crowd between each song, Lind expressed his gratitude to artists such as Hawley and Jarvis Cocker for helping to raise awareness of his music on this side of the Atlantic (there is a Pulp song titled "Bob Lind"), just two of over 200 bands and artists to cover his music.
After a third encore, he left the stage for the last time. Dinah, rarely shy in coming forward and determined that Dad should get to meet with Bob, decided to steal a march on those loitering hopefully by the bar for Bob to appear, instead inviting herself through the curtain behind the stage in search of the man himself. She re-appeared seconds later and called to me to "Get your father through here!"
Bob Lind, alone in the Green Room, greeted us warmly. Dad shared a conversation with him whilst I just leant on the doorpost and and savoured the moment. Like father, like son. Some people joined us in the room. It was Richard Hawley and an instantly recognisable, bespectacled, painfully thin bloke. "This is Jarvis, Bob", he said. Bob acknowledged them, but was in no hurry to finish his chat with Dad. I lit a cigarette and tried to look cool. Fucking hell, we're alone in a room back-stage with three musical legends. The Pulp front-man looked nervous as he waited his turn with Bob. Hawley tucked into some red wine. Bob readily agreed to a couple of photos with Dad, and we all shook hands and left.
Bob Lind, Jarvis Cocker and Richard Hawley. And us. In a small room. I must admit to feeling slightly star-struck by the whole, bizarre encounter. Outside, I tried explaining to Dad and Dinah what had just happened, as, other than Bob, they clearly had no idea what exalted company they'd just kept.
During the journey home, Dinah was still grappling with her lack of recognition of a megastar. "Well, I have heard of Joe Cocker", she claimed, "but I've no idea what he looks like".
I just smiled and kept driving. Nights like these don't come around too often.
Tuesday, 29 May 2007
Sunset over Mumbai
The sun is setting to the left of me over the Arabian Sea, with only the Braborne cricket stadium in between me and the cloudy waters of Back Bay in Mumbai. In an hour or so's time, I shall be running the gauntlet of negotiating a fair cab fare for the long drive north through the city's suburbs to Chatrapati Shivaji international airport. This is the end of my short trip to India.
It's been a useful time for me, time to get away and have some space to think, to relax; to not think, sometimes, and just go with the flow; to feel both privileged with the life I am afforded in the West, but also, on occasion, to wonder who has got it right, the peasant with very little, or me, with a whole host of "modern conveniences" but, conversely, precious little time in the hectic world I occupy back home.
India is a place that can shock, frustrate, delight, amuse and sadden you all within the course of one day. You will curse the heat of the midday sun, yet a couple of hours later enjoy the warm blanket of the early evening and an orange sunset. There will be crowds, but also space sometimes for peaceful reflection or a quiet conversation with a stranger, who will more often than not be genuinely pleased to take time to engage you in conversation and find out about your world. A smile here goes a long way, and you will find plenty in return.
It's been good to meet new people and make new friends, plus to see old ones, both in planned meetings, but also meetings of total and utter chance. For all these things, I am grateful, and they have certainly been the highlight of my visit.
It will be quite a change to leave the airport in Norwich tomorrow morning and experience cool temperatures again, after the heat of India, save for the occasional coastal breeze if I've been lucky. I will both miss, and enjoy, the lack of the constant cacophony of traffic noise that has awoken me each morning in the cities here. I will miss life as you've never seen it, from the poorest of the poor to the affluent
Mumbaiker who rides around in their top-of-the-range Mercedes, observing this vibrant city through designer shades that could be traded for enough to feed a slum-dwelling family for I shudder to think how long.
This is the ultimate land of contrast, and its possibilities are huge. India is developing at rapid pace, but I hope it retains its underlying values and does not get totally immersed in rampant commercialism, or prize possessions and wealth above all else, something I feel we are often guilty of in the world which we inhabit in the West. India certainly reaffirms to me the value of the gift of family and friends, if ever I should forget.
Until the next time...
It's been a useful time for me, time to get away and have some space to think, to relax; to not think, sometimes, and just go with the flow; to feel both privileged with the life I am afforded in the West, but also, on occasion, to wonder who has got it right, the peasant with very little, or me, with a whole host of "modern conveniences" but, conversely, precious little time in the hectic world I occupy back home.
India is a place that can shock, frustrate, delight, amuse and sadden you all within the course of one day. You will curse the heat of the midday sun, yet a couple of hours later enjoy the warm blanket of the early evening and an orange sunset. There will be crowds, but also space sometimes for peaceful reflection or a quiet conversation with a stranger, who will more often than not be genuinely pleased to take time to engage you in conversation and find out about your world. A smile here goes a long way, and you will find plenty in return.
It's been good to meet new people and make new friends, plus to see old ones, both in planned meetings, but also meetings of total and utter chance. For all these things, I am grateful, and they have certainly been the highlight of my visit.
It will be quite a change to leave the airport in Norwich tomorrow morning and experience cool temperatures again, after the heat of India, save for the occasional coastal breeze if I've been lucky. I will both miss, and enjoy, the lack of the constant cacophony of traffic noise that has awoken me each morning in the cities here. I will miss life as you've never seen it, from the poorest of the poor to the affluent
Mumbaiker who rides around in their top-of-the-range Mercedes, observing this vibrant city through designer shades that could be traded for enough to feed a slum-dwelling family for I shudder to think how long.
This is the ultimate land of contrast, and its possibilities are huge. India is developing at rapid pace, but I hope it retains its underlying values and does not get totally immersed in rampant commercialism, or prize possessions and wealth above all else, something I feel we are often guilty of in the world which we inhabit in the West. India certainly reaffirms to me the value of the gift of family and friends, if ever I should forget.
Until the next time...
Thursday, 24 May 2007
Some like it hot
The first thing people here in India have been bemused about, upon meeting me, is why on earth I would want to travel here at this time of year, when the temperature is reaching its annual peak and the locals cower in the shade waiting for the sun to relent as day turns to evening.
Well, it is certainly good to get away from home for a bit, for a start, but one thing there is no getting away from is that it is swelteringly hot in India just now, as many parts of the country count down the days until the monsoons hit. Thankfully, this has not happened yet, although there has been some fairly heavy rain storms whilst I have been in Chennai and (briefly) in Bangalore; in the case of the latter, the plane which I was sitting in, bound for Goa, was stranded at the top of the runway for around 45 minutes as it waited for a storm to pass before it could take-off.
I have spent a few days down in the south-west state of Tamil Nadu, in Chennai, where I spent time with Balaji in this heaving metropolis. Indian cities aren't the most comfortable places to be, with suffocating pollution, furnace-like heat and sheer weight of population making for a claustrophobic experience - certainly not for the faint hearted. Despite this, I made the effort to see as much of the city as I could, from the ridiculously busy T. Nagar shopping district (I have never seen so many people in one place in my life), to the sweeping sands of Marina beach, one of the longest city beaches in the world. I also enjoyed the opportunity to visit both Hindu and Christian places of worship; the Kapleeswarar temple in the district of Mylapore is a stunning feat of architecture, with its amazingly intricate artistic detail; and I felt suitably humble when I visited St Thome Cathedral, one of only three cathedrals in the world built over the tomb of one of Jesus' disciples - the original "Doubting Thomas" in this instance.
Travelling around Chennai for a few days, it was strange not to spot a single Westerner - not that I seek out those of my own colour, you understand, but in most world cities you tend to find a cross-section of nationalities. It turns out that they tend to favour air-conditioned western-style hotels as refuge from the 40 degrees heat, before being chaffeured to air-conditioned offices in the morning. I only know this having spent my last evening in town dining in the roof-top restaurant of the opulent Rain Tree hotel, enjoying the company of Balaji and his friends Sriram and Vidhi, whilst business men and women discussed the events of the working day on adjacent tables over bottles of chilled wine. Not a city for the casual sight-seer at this time of year, Chennai.
I spent the vast majority of yesterday in airports and on planes, encountering various delays before finally arriving in Goa for 6pm. One surprisingly hassle-free transfer later (perhaps unfair - hassle and Goa rarely go hand in hand, unlike the other 99% of this country!), and I find myself in a sleepy village by the beach from where I write this. I have until Sunday until I fly back up to Mumbai - whether I can summon the energy to move onto another resort between now and then remains to be seen, although the heat may mean that I just loll around here, strolling on the beach, catching up on some reading and indulging in the delicious local seafood. It's a tough life...
Well, it is certainly good to get away from home for a bit, for a start, but one thing there is no getting away from is that it is swelteringly hot in India just now, as many parts of the country count down the days until the monsoons hit. Thankfully, this has not happened yet, although there has been some fairly heavy rain storms whilst I have been in Chennai and (briefly) in Bangalore; in the case of the latter, the plane which I was sitting in, bound for Goa, was stranded at the top of the runway for around 45 minutes as it waited for a storm to pass before it could take-off.
I have spent a few days down in the south-west state of Tamil Nadu, in Chennai, where I spent time with Balaji in this heaving metropolis. Indian cities aren't the most comfortable places to be, with suffocating pollution, furnace-like heat and sheer weight of population making for a claustrophobic experience - certainly not for the faint hearted. Despite this, I made the effort to see as much of the city as I could, from the ridiculously busy T. Nagar shopping district (I have never seen so many people in one place in my life), to the sweeping sands of Marina beach, one of the longest city beaches in the world. I also enjoyed the opportunity to visit both Hindu and Christian places of worship; the Kapleeswarar temple in the district of Mylapore is a stunning feat of architecture, with its amazingly intricate artistic detail; and I felt suitably humble when I visited St Thome Cathedral, one of only three cathedrals in the world built over the tomb of one of Jesus' disciples - the original "Doubting Thomas" in this instance.
Travelling around Chennai for a few days, it was strange not to spot a single Westerner - not that I seek out those of my own colour, you understand, but in most world cities you tend to find a cross-section of nationalities. It turns out that they tend to favour air-conditioned western-style hotels as refuge from the 40 degrees heat, before being chaffeured to air-conditioned offices in the morning. I only know this having spent my last evening in town dining in the roof-top restaurant of the opulent Rain Tree hotel, enjoying the company of Balaji and his friends Sriram and Vidhi, whilst business men and women discussed the events of the working day on adjacent tables over bottles of chilled wine. Not a city for the casual sight-seer at this time of year, Chennai.
I spent the vast majority of yesterday in airports and on planes, encountering various delays before finally arriving in Goa for 6pm. One surprisingly hassle-free transfer later (perhaps unfair - hassle and Goa rarely go hand in hand, unlike the other 99% of this country!), and I find myself in a sleepy village by the beach from where I write this. I have until Sunday until I fly back up to Mumbai - whether I can summon the energy to move onto another resort between now and then remains to be seen, although the heat may mean that I just loll around here, strolling on the beach, catching up on some reading and indulging in the delicious local seafood. It's a tough life...
Monday, 7 May 2007
Amazing Grace
There are some pieces of music that can truly bring a tear to the eye, but in a good way. A hymn that particularly stirs me is John Newton's "Amazing Grace", which has recently been enlivened by Rick Wakeman (of Yes fame), his daughter Jemma and the English Chamber Choir, for his DVD/CD compilation of the same name. Quite beautiful, and if you've a place in your heart for well-played piano as I do, all the more special, and Mr Wakeman more than obliges on that front.
Take a few deserved, quiet moments for yourself and enjoy this quite magnificent rendition...
Take a few deserved, quiet moments for yourself and enjoy this quite magnificent rendition...
Monday, 23 April 2007
The Beach
I have a constantly evolving list of places I want to travel to; as things stand, many countries in Africa head the shortlist, some undiscovered corners of both eastern and western Europe follow closely behind, and then you can count numerous random places around the rest of this beautiful world of ours jockeying for position on my globetrotting calendar, but probably having to wait more patiently for their turn than if I was, say, decadently minted and able to drop my responsibilities and don the shorts and flip-flops of eternal freedom tomorrow.
Alas, I can't, just now (bugger). But I'm working on it ;-)
Sometimes though, places get unexpectedly elevated up the wish-list, often simply because they offer something a bit quirky. Today, for example, I was thinking that I hadn't viewed some of the stunning photos on this site recently, but then I had the brainwave of seeing what I could find by visiting THIS site to maybe help me bring some of my favourite ever stunning images to life, of St Maarten in the Netherlands Antilles, where holidaymakers are terrorised/treated (depending on your particular viewpoint) to the spectacle of hulking great passenger airliners swooping shit-poopingly low over the golden sands of Maho Beach, which sits right at the end of the island's airport runway.
Looks cool to me, and seems like a perfectly reasonable excuse (in my book) to visit the Caribbean someday (yeah, like I needed one - when do England next play the West Indies?!)
Surely, this is one of the world's most unique beaches...it's either be thrilled, and/or be deaf as a post for the rest of your life...
What I love about this next piece of footage, other than the sheer power of the thrust from the engines of the Boeing 747 that is making waves (literally), is the fact that I've no idea whether the people on the beach are taking advantage of the artificial "surf" like any committed board-head perhaps would, or simply being blown into the sea involuntarily (I hope it's the latter, if I'm honest ;-):
Monday, 16 April 2007
He got game...
This track is the bomb...Public Enemy at their best :-)
He Got Game
[Flavor Flav]
Yeah that's right
this cut goes out to all y'all that's been missin us for mad years
One love y'all
Yeah that's right, He Got Game
PE 1998
[Chuck D]
If man is the father, the son is the center of the earth
In the middle of the universe, then why
is this verse comin six times rehearsed?
Don't freestyle much but I write em like such (Word)
Amongst the fiends controlled by the screens
What does it all mean all this shit I'm seein?
Human beings screaming vocal javelins
Sign of the local nigga unravelling
My wanderin got my ass wondering
where Christ is in all this crisis
Hating Satan never knew what nice is
Check the papers while I bet on ices
More than your eye can see and ears can hear
Year by year all the sense disappears
Nonsense perserveres, prayers laced with fear
Beware, two triple O is near
[Chorus - both]
It might feel good
It might sound a little somethin
but damn the game if it don't mean nuttin
What is game? Who is game?
Where's the game in life behind the game behind the game
I got game, she's got game
We got game, they got game, he got game
It might feel good
It might sound a little somethin
but fuck the game if it ain't sayin nuttin
[Chuck D]
Damn, was it something I said?
Pretend you don't see so you turn your head
Ray scared of his shadow, does it matter?
For the reparations got him playin with the population
Nothin to lose, everything's approved
People used, even murders excused (You preach to em yo)
White men in suits don't have to jump
Still a thousand and one ways to lose with his shoes
God takes care of old folks and fools
while the devil takes care of makin all the rules
Folks don't even own themselves
payin mental rent, to corporate presidents (My man my man)
Ugh, one outta million residents
bein dissident, who ain't kissin it
The politics of chains and whips
Got the sickness and chips and all the championships
What's Love Got To Do with what you got
Don't let the weight get to your head or lost to your heart (Word)
Nonsense perserveres, prayers laced with fear
Beware, two triple O is near
Chorus
[Flavor Flav]
Yeah that's right
Everybody got game
But we just here to let y'all know
that PE, is in full effect, from right now till the year 2000
Aiyo my man sing it
[Stephen Stills]
There's something happening here (Yeah yeah)
What it is ain't exactly clear
There's a man, with a gun over there (Yeah that's right hah haha)
tellin me, I got to beware
It's time we stop, children what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin, down
(Aiyo, I don't think they heard you Stevie
Kick it to em again one more time)
It's time we stop, children what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin, down
[Flavor Flav]
Haha, that's right boy, PE in full effect boy to the year 2000 yo
[Shabach Community Choir of Long Island]
Stop, look, what's that sound
Everybody knows what's goin down
*repeat to fade*
[Flavor Flav - over top of choir]
Come on sing it
Sing it again y'all come on
Hey!
He-hey!!!
Aiyo, these are some serious times that we're livin in G
And a new world order is about to begin, y'knowhutI'msayin?
Now the question is - are you ready, for the real revolution
which is the evolution of the mind?
If you seek then you shall find that we all come from the divine
You dig what I'm sayin?
Now if you take heed to the words of wisdom
that are written on the walls of life
then universally, we will stand and divided we will fall
because love conquers all, you understand what I'm sayin?
This is a call to all you sleepin souls
Wake up and take control of your own cipher
And be on the lookout for the spirit snipers
tryin to steal your light, y'knowhutI'msayin?
Look within-side yourself, for peace
Give thanks, live life and release
You dig me? You got me?
He Got Game
[Flavor Flav]
Yeah that's right
this cut goes out to all y'all that's been missin us for mad years
One love y'all
Yeah that's right, He Got Game
PE 1998
[Chuck D]
If man is the father, the son is the center of the earth
In the middle of the universe, then why
is this verse comin six times rehearsed?
Don't freestyle much but I write em like such (Word)
Amongst the fiends controlled by the screens
What does it all mean all this shit I'm seein?
Human beings screaming vocal javelins
Sign of the local nigga unravelling
My wanderin got my ass wondering
where Christ is in all this crisis
Hating Satan never knew what nice is
Check the papers while I bet on ices
More than your eye can see and ears can hear
Year by year all the sense disappears
Nonsense perserveres, prayers laced with fear
Beware, two triple O is near
[Chorus - both]
It might feel good
It might sound a little somethin
but damn the game if it don't mean nuttin
What is game? Who is game?
Where's the game in life behind the game behind the game
I got game, she's got game
We got game, they got game, he got game
It might feel good
It might sound a little somethin
but fuck the game if it ain't sayin nuttin
[Chuck D]
Damn, was it something I said?
Pretend you don't see so you turn your head
Ray scared of his shadow, does it matter?
For the reparations got him playin with the population
Nothin to lose, everything's approved
People used, even murders excused (You preach to em yo)
White men in suits don't have to jump
Still a thousand and one ways to lose with his shoes
God takes care of old folks and fools
while the devil takes care of makin all the rules
Folks don't even own themselves
payin mental rent, to corporate presidents (My man my man)
Ugh, one outta million residents
bein dissident, who ain't kissin it
The politics of chains and whips
Got the sickness and chips and all the championships
What's Love Got To Do with what you got
Don't let the weight get to your head or lost to your heart (Word)
Nonsense perserveres, prayers laced with fear
Beware, two triple O is near
Chorus
[Flavor Flav]
Yeah that's right
Everybody got game
But we just here to let y'all know
that PE, is in full effect, from right now till the year 2000
Aiyo my man sing it
[Stephen Stills]
There's something happening here (Yeah yeah)
What it is ain't exactly clear
There's a man, with a gun over there (Yeah that's right hah haha)
tellin me, I got to beware
It's time we stop, children what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin, down
(Aiyo, I don't think they heard you Stevie
Kick it to em again one more time)
It's time we stop, children what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin, down
[Flavor Flav]
Haha, that's right boy, PE in full effect boy to the year 2000 yo
[Shabach Community Choir of Long Island]
Stop, look, what's that sound
Everybody knows what's goin down
*repeat to fade*
[Flavor Flav - over top of choir]
Come on sing it
Sing it again y'all come on
Hey!
He-hey!!!
Aiyo, these are some serious times that we're livin in G
And a new world order is about to begin, y'knowhutI'msayin?
Now the question is - are you ready, for the real revolution
which is the evolution of the mind?
If you seek then you shall find that we all come from the divine
You dig what I'm sayin?
Now if you take heed to the words of wisdom
that are written on the walls of life
then universally, we will stand and divided we will fall
because love conquers all, you understand what I'm sayin?
This is a call to all you sleepin souls
Wake up and take control of your own cipher
And be on the lookout for the spirit snipers
tryin to steal your light, y'knowhutI'msayin?
Look within-side yourself, for peace
Give thanks, live life and release
You dig me? You got me?
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