Hosted by Steve Low · EN

Guitar, bass, KB, vocals to click track Not Bothering to be Jealous Had my eye on the half chance Though half would be exaggerating no? Cause she’s with that guy I hear And they’re really quite the pair But I’m not bothering. I’m not bothering, I’m not bothering To be jealous Suffering daily through her fragrance trail And her laugh behind - the office wall That guy she’s with must cavitate When she’s at his door Thank God I think at 5pm My reflection in the window of the tram Won’t think of her tonight I got songs I’m gonna write Yes I’m not bothering. I’m not bothering, I’m not bothering To be jealous Gotta go pour myself a heavy dose That calming thing Trouble is that’s when those big ideas Come flooding in Yeah I tell you what, I’ll text her now Let it all come out, this sacred cow That there is but one true love In this universe of lust So I’m not bothering. I’m not bothering, I’m not bothering To be jealous Yeah cause I know you and me Are the soul of ecstasy So I’m not bothering. I’m not bothering, I’m not bothering To be jealous

This is not my song or my voice - it's the work of Marc Steyn who I was in a duo with many years ago. Unfortunately Marc contracted a terminal illness a few years ago. He was such a perfectionist he only released songs reluctantly. I don't think this song has seen the light of day yet - A song Marc was working on in the latter years and which we extracted from his computer. I remember jamming on it when we met up to share songs at that time. Amazing memory. The photo was in the Nelson Evening Mail highlighting a house concert we put on in 2005.

Anonymous as Cloud Where are you? I haven’t heard a sound There’s perversion of sensibility Since fools released the hound It wouldn’t take all that much To populate streets tonight Bring traffic to a standstill Like Prague in 89 We don’t need guns just numbers and belief oh yeah belief To flaunt the moral high-ground and get it on the streets There must be millions of us here With body and soul inflamed Hey where you all gone hiding You’re anonymous as cloud There’s urgency Don’t let the train leave the station The minds of the army Can be bought by mere oration Citizens Held hostage by a deranged few Think about that Don’t let it all come true

UNITED STATES Waking up to frosty landscapes Waiting on a desert sun Stopped into Nepali’s teahouse Looking down Milano’s lawn The scent of London’s summer Piquant whiff of chanel on a train Everywhere I look it’s United States Everything I hear it’s United States Where’s it going to end the United States Like their fathers before them They’re prone to crossing swords Shooting off their biggest mouth And prancing ‘round like Lords Internationals recoil Talking ‘bout the weather of their lives Met a Yankee couple at the old train station He was wringing his hands about that nation Semi comatose in Tehran Paper thin the walls around me Static and announcer’s parlance Creeping into conscious thought Crackling the searing bacon Every now and then a free man’s fate

Keeping it natural with the bass driving the rhythm and everything played and sung largely into a mic - the theme is rather self explanatory. Friend of the Fabulous Touched you are by latent hands of Gods Your face is bloated by the friend you’ve got You’ve always got the news of their stuff Someone’s elevated by their lateset bit of status You’re a friend of the fabulous It’s so good you’re almost tremulous You think that we’re hanging on your words But what’s she really like that piece of work Oh she’s just so normal and such fun Everyday’s a party oh if only we could come You’re a friend of the fabulous It’s so good you’re almost tremulous You’re a friend of the fabulous Let me bathe in your perspective You’re a friend of the fabulous If she knew us we’d be so blessed Everyday you’re locked away In your love of adulation So you’re a limpet clinging on To that association You’re a friend of the fabulous It’s the fundamental anchor of your life Like bees on speed they’re buzzing you a lot Must be more today who will feed another high

Re-recording of this 2003 song with Ted Key (Organ) and Adrian Secker (Piano). Adrian has played live with us a couple of times this year so it was a project to recreate the live sound in the studio. Back in 2003 there was no streaming and the original recording (song title 'Jack Johnson' ) was on CD and received local radio airplay for a few weeks. Spotify wouldn't accept a song titled with another artists name - hence the title change. Jack Johnson Driving up the Kawera gorge to Queenstown Looking out the windows at the cars Then you go and make a small commotion Pointing out the V-dub that went past Did you think you saw Jack Johnson Did you see a surfboard and guitar I think you’ve had way to much my friend Cause everybody here looks like a star Coronet is lovely as an ice cream We’re carving up the snow having a ball Then you go and make a small commotion Pointing out a cool dude on a board Sunday and we’re on the beach hung over Recalling when the Eichardts was a bar I feel like some kiwifruit pavlova You’re still musing bout that V-dub car

The first version of this in 2005 was a reaction to nationalism as exhibited via plane hijackings. This time the US border politics triggered a rewrite with a different chord structure and words. Just acoustic guitar and bass: back to basics! INTERNATIONAL NATIONALITY 2025 I woke up to face the day Acapulco Hilton I knew I had to catch a train to the USA I should be excited but I know I’m not I’m feeling all the fears that America’s got There are borders and a national guard There are people who are living so hard I think it’s time to make us all the same An international nationality Out of the xray beam to the border gate Who’s got a false passport are they here today? I’m looking around for a sweaty brow Has the guard gotta grudge and a sacred cow? Let’s get something underway Take away the borders of today I think it’s time to make us all the same An international nationality Free them . . . and you’ll be halfway human The children . . . let them be in arms tomorrow I’m looking out through the glass at the other’s world Seeing them through the fence where they’re all being held Who’s that getting up and walking around Are we just gonna leave without making a sound?

I was struck by an article in the Guardian 10 years ago about a woman who used to hang out and work with the Rolling Stones in the 60s and the article was about adapting to old age while having nostalgia for such a potent time in her life. For this recording I had to change one word - 70 to 80. Musically it needed to be rhythmic but melancholic: something you got from major and minor seventh songs in the mid 70s as disco kicked in YESTERDAY’S PEOPLE Yesterday’s people used to party, party, party Yesterday’s people were so cool so cool so cool There was a girl her skin so fresh and fine There was a guy as smooth as a dark red wine They were out there in a happening era Face to face so close and nearer Photogenic and oh so bold But that generation has all grown old In 69 it was crazy zany time In London town all that music going down Young people travelling - free love happening Beautiful people philosophizing Mary Jane twilight in the Mediterranean That generation they’ve all grown old If you’re talking to an 80 year old guy Remember he - was Mr cool way back in time Try to imagine the face much younger The yearning soul hormonal hunger Suite Judy blue eyes young people dancing That generation they’ve all grown old

A complete re-recording in the key played live. It was one of those recordings that sounded really messy. Dropping the fader on the acoustic guitar I'd started the whole thing off with revealed a different direction highlighting case and drums. It's about females who stand up for the community against arrogance and male chauvinism and I see them in my work environment - this song is about them.. Miss Rocket Launcher Hey hey you this Joan of Arc - Miss Rocket Launcher Love you sending into space – those flying saucers Your eyes they dart and sense corrosion You’re leaning forward in silky motion You know who is fit to govern For those who aren’t they get concussion Your elbows dent the seats of power Your rocket roars it’s getting louder Hey hey you Sister of Mercy – Miss Rocket Launcher Love it that they’re on your mind – the poor and poorer When you sense their exploitation Your voice it cracks and lips are brazen I’d hate to be your target right then A volley gone to crack their heads We’re hungry like Cohen’s Partisan We’ll force ‘em to the stones and hear the doors slam Room dust scatters as your strident voice rises Tables go silent as you render the kaisers Hey hey you this Mother Theresa – Miss Rocket Launcher Can feel the warmth inside of you – and getting warmer When they wallow in their greed You let one go and make em all flee I’m feeling for the hem of your gown The reverent touch the best to be found I know that you will win in the end And sharing it with you – what a send

A twist on the 'Appearance Medicine' phrase. APPEARANCE MEDICINE Tripping round some corridors Nothing but neon lights Floor polish and hidden voices There you are before my eyes It’s appearance medicine Like a hormone injects in a vein It’s appearance medicine A face that lights a flame S O B and tachy heart when lightning seeds a body start That jumps a gate to permeate my actual need For you with me - today This hospital’s a restaurant Medicine is the menu God’s own surgeon shaped the face That walks me to the moon It’s appearance medicine . . . Ah-huh Ah Huh da da da da da da da da It’s appearance medicine It’s appearance medicine Everyday it’s much the same Going on that ward round Floor polish and hidden voices Soon my heart it’s on the pound