When You Hear Sweet Syncopation

the uncanny valley presents:

kukl / yamasuki singers / siouxsie and the banshees / melvins / esg / the kellies / devo / le butcherettes / the beatles / martin denny / laurie anderson / lydia lunch / clint ruin / evelyn glennie / björk / tom waits / william s. burroughs / lemon kittens / rllrbll / the breeders

Got to give up life in this netherworld. Got to go up to where the air is stale and live a life of pleasantries. This limbo is no place to be a digit in another space, in another crowd. I’m nameless bound. I’ll be worse than me. Any more lazy, he wont eat or speak. Running, raving, headless, leading little horned animal. They will burn in poison. Forget everything: rotten, raving, headless leading animal is homeless. Round head, so big! He’s here to pull their eyes out now, for the picking. My god, it’s all remaining…

My man, so big, keeps me here to pulverize. I’m down for the many.

My god, it’s all remaining…

Think I got your dialtone, think I got Billy Baxter’s bone, think I got a bubble-sac, think I got a big mack attack. All we ask is that you let us serve it your way.

Leg, you’re pale. Your hair is made of legs. You’re done. Bruno was a classic!!!

There is no relation between soul and body. Your heart was my mouth, and your mouth was my planet. Help me, put me back together.

Hair, you can’t do math.

I’m sick of never being able to get to anyone.

Over men and horses hoops and garters and lastly through a hogshead of real fire! In this way Mr. K. will challenge the world! Having been some days in preparation, a splendid time is guaranteed for all.

I am nonplussed. It would not be a false alarm. It would be good intent.

We drink the light. We shatter through.

The owl and the pussycat went to sea in a beautiful pea green boat. They took some honey and lots of money wrapped in a five pound note. The owl looked up to the stars above and sang to a small guitar: “Let us be married; too long we’ve tarried. But what shall we do for a ring?” They sailed away for a year and a day to the land where the bong tree grows, and there in a wood a piggy wig stood, a ring at the end of his nose. And hand in hand at the edge of the sand they danced by the light of the moon.

When you hear sweet syncopation, and the music softly moans
‘t ain’t no sin to take off your skin, and dance around in your bones

When it gets too hot for comfort, and you can’t get an ice cream cone
‘t ain’t no sin to take off your skin, and dance around in your bones

Just like those bamboo babies, down in the South Sea tropic zone
‘t ain’t no sin to take off your skin, and dance around in your bones

When you hear sweet syncopation, and the music softly moans
‘t ain’t no sin to take off your skin, and dance around in your bones

When it gets too hot for comfort, and you can’t get an ice cream cone
‘t ain’t no sin to take off your skin, and dance around in your bones

Just like those bamboo babies, down in the South Sea tropic zone
‘t ain’t no sin to take off your skin, and dance around in your bones

I want to speak of the despisers of the body. I would not have them learn and teach differently, but merely say farewell to their own bodies — and thus become silent.

I adore: back of necks, beautifully shaven. Gives me always, always, always, always a pretty rush down my spine. All those boys with fascinating fingers, working, creating, touching their tools.

Top this.

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