The Psychøtic Reactiøn

As winter slowly recedes, we emerge from our bunker. We’ve been busy- a few gigs here and there, more work on recordings (the new single and EP), Dr. Gav has rebuilt the entire homepage, and Leo and Powley have recorded a Mane album (with some characteristically atonal contributions from me!); so what happens next?

We’re working on a lot of new material- much as I love playing Cocoon et al, and though we’re unlikely to drop our “standards” from the set, I’m desperate to change it around and refresh it. So aside from all the other new songs (EP and all), here are even more, destined for either more download singles or an album in the dim and distant future. So, more new songs than you can shake a stick at and plenty to choose from for a set. Are we good to you or wot??!

Semiotic Rock (Williams/Cookman/Powley):

As a result of messing around with a Digitech Whammy/Harmoniser (the not-as-good XP version) and mixing in the kind of offbeat hi-hat rhythms that have become horrible cliches in the past three or four years, this mutant disco-metal monster was born. Initially, we referred to it by the code name ‘ZGCS’ (too puerile to explain further!), but casting my eye over the current musical landscape at these embarassing, derivative, cut-and-paste clipart bands (be it the sadly reactivated Primal Scream, or Babyshambles, Jet, Razorlight, whoever) and their dreadful, vacuous pastiche, not too mention the final death throes of the worn out haggered old git known as “indie” with the NME (which has long since ceased to represent anything genuinely independent) and its (irony free) “shockwaves sponsored” tour. Also, this is the first time (since the free-improv. days of Doe-Eyed-Luv-Struck-Bunny etc) that the whole band has collaborated on writing a song.

Lyrical sample:

All haircut, no music
All product, what’s music?
You’re no killer, you’re no libertine,
You are filler, for cheap magazines

I rest my case!!

The Wrong Kind of Old (Williams):

Okay, pay attention- here is an in-depth analysis of the destruction of buildings, town centres and the unstoppable rise of “luxury flats and retail” along with the plague of coffee bars and televised-sport pubs (that, incidentally, are helping to further endanger that already most endangered of UK cultural species, live music) and by extension the erasure of folk memory (cough). Draft lyrics:

The Wrong Kind of Old

So why the worry? No don’t be sorry
It’s old and battered, so let it scatter
To the wind
It doesn’t matter, so throw caution
To the wind

It’s the wrong kind of old
In this year zero
It’s the wrong kind of old
So it has to go

Fall between stools
Preoccupation of fools
Throw the ashes, to the wind
No re-hashes and no way to rescind
Call the receivers, no choice either
Cast unbelievers to the ether

Join our arbitrary list, do the obituary twist
Time to cease and desist, time to cease to exist
But it’s the wrong kind of old
It’s your turn to be sold
The scrapman is waiting, before you can rust
The JCB is itching, here to grind you to dust
An undertaker, never finds himself bust
Ash to ash, dust to dust
Tell me who will you trust?

No let’s not think, beyond the next five minutes
Let alone past five years
Let’s change the world! And everything within it
Play on your fears, forget any limits
Let’s end in tears

Your fate is assigned, be resigned to rewind
You’re washed ashore, only to be ignored
Time to fall on your sword

Your lease has expired, it’s high time you retired
No longer required
Yesterday’s idea, there’s no room for you here

Big River (Williams):

More whammy tomfoolery. One of our favourite discussion topics is that of Fantasy Bands. Here we imagine what would have happened had Bonham and Jones formed a band with Kevin and Belinda from My Bloody Valentine, so no, it sounds nothing like the Johnny Cash song of the same name! Lyrics not ready- working title only!!
Also, here I must raise the thorny issue of finger tapping. When I was 14-15, this was de rigeur and music shops were plagued with wannabe Van Halens doing their shrill-widdle thang. I despised them then and I despise them now (even allowing for EVH’s undeniable innovation c.78. By ’91 it was the worst of clichés, Joey Santiago excepted!!!), and I made a point of never learning how to do it. However, since discovering by accident, I’ve decided that there must be a tasteful way of deploying it and I think I’ve managed to do it here…

Battery In My Brain (Williams):

Our old friends feedback and mental illness; key Reaction song staples from day one!

Battery IN MY BRAIN (2007)

Battery in my brain, I don’t think that I CAN EXPLAIN
Battery in my brain, Flick a switch and numb the pain
Battery in my brain, intruders left me this way
Battery in my brain, bombard my mind with microwaves

Ask me where I went wrong and get the length of my acid tongue
Am I too far gone? Arrested state from when I was young
How can it be my fault? Open wounds and pour in salt
No it’s never my fault, my only choice my only default

Battery in my brain, will make me fall in love with you
Battery in my brain, will always mean you spurn me too
Battery in my brain, my only friend that still remains
Battery in my brain, who are you to change who’s sane?

Switch on the 1000 yard stare, I’m not here for your entertainment
Damage beyond repair, somewhere lost a key component
There’s a file somewhere, but I’m not party to its information
One day I’ll join it there, preserved for your education

W*O*R*K (Williams)

Rehashed form a song called ‘Life Begins at 5:30’. Now my office gofer/temp life is hopefully a thing of the past, I can look back and laugh, oh yes.

Every Rose Comes With A Prick (Williams)

We’ve all seen it. Pretty/nice/brainy/sexy female with runtish fuckwit partner; one of life’s great injustices.

Others due for being finally recorded include Love is Not the Answer (a regular part of the set 2003-4 that somehow got overlooked), Roman Stones (E-bow driven robo-disco John Dryden!!), morose/morbid ballad Blue Dress On a Hanger, No More Drinking (more morose, more morbid), live favourite Barking Up The Wrong Tree and possibly Duncan Down, originally intended for me and Dave’s rock opera about Whitstable…it all depends on what fits together (out artistic whims, in other words…)