instant karma: completely gone fishing

liner notes: michelin man

'This one was written while I was working for a well known parcel service with ugly brown uniforms (I bet you can't guess the name of this company!). So there I was, driving down the motorway, with this tiny little melody in my head. At the same time I was looking at all the Michelin men fitted to the trucks passing me by. As I got home I had to fill up the tank as usual, but this time I did not only have to remember the pin code for company credit-card, I had to watch out not to forget the lyrics and the music as well. So there I was, at a gas-station, with the smell of gasoline in my nose, the lyrics in my head (and of course the pin-code) and this melody in my heart: "Nnn nnn nnn nothing comes close to the Michelin man, he's a steady companion on the motorway....."

Who's been there for donkey's years? And who is as white and creamy as milk? Who smiles like everthing`s in perfect shape? Who can not ever, ever come down? Nothing comes close to the Michelin man, he's a steady companion on the motorway. For selling tires, he must get tired of sitting on trucks. Some drivers have lights that turn from left to right, lets go Knightriding. Some even have Christmas trees, got plastic warmth all tied up nice. While all the other people run in the shops for Christmas, heart attacks, he's all alone out there, just counting miles to fall asleep, he's counting miles to fall asleep. Nothing comes close to the Michelin man, he's a steady companion on the autobahn. For selling tires, he must get tired of sitting on trucks.

--Tom

liner notes: w

'Why oh Why can you guys never get it right? Well, this album track is way off from Tom`s initial vision. Please cross-reference with an earlier version in the bonus section. The rest of us still think, it`s one of the real beauties of this record.'

Let him screw you down to his sickened world. Purgatory or what? Let him get you drugged, get you half asleep. Will you hear the call? Never forget the day, when he told you `You look fat in that dress'. How you reacted, like a housewife, you just smashed a cup and cried. Are you that easy to convince? Cause when you really are, you should know that boundless swimming lets you forget the ways into truth, the big W. I know, what it`s like to swim, that`s the reason why I care. You`re afraid when you leave him, he might to himself harm. But you can`t hide him from the rest, of which he thinks that he`s above. I know what it`s like to swim, but now I`m dry.

--Tom

liner notes: birthday suite

"The single of the album with a great, unusual animated video. A favourite for many, it's about an old man in a pensioners home, communicating with the bugs in his room. Slow forest, by the way, is the nice Thai word for cemetery. The highlight of the song , the elevating finale with Tom and Ollie on their best Pavarotti, was inexplicably culled for the radio single."

I'm not growing anymore, I decompose, I break my leg my shoulder, I lose my ears, I lose my nose, oops there it goes ... And she doesn't know that I'm not quite alone, I got friends on the ceiling, got neighbours in my bed, they're keeping me the company I never have, they're everywhere, and she won't care, that I see semaphores, they see moths, I receive morsecode, they see fireflies. They all tell me it's a slow forest, all the bugs and worms and maggots and butterflies, they're all friends of mine. I'm a giant, a whole world of their own. I'm all hills and valleys and forests and roads, they party on my pelvis and hide in my toes, and when the lights go down, they make music for me ... listen.

--Martin

liner notes: sorry, wrong planet

'I wrote and recorded the demo of this song after a good night out and rather too many toxic fluids. So there I was, 4 AM, totally drunk with this brilliant idea in my head, no microphone, just a metronome, an electric guitar, my 4-track tapemachine and headphones. Because I was living in a student home with paper-thin walls and hundreds of direct neighbours at the time I had to be all quiet as well. OK, I could use the headphones as a mic, just plug it in and record the metronome at 120 beats per minute. What do you do when you've got no guitar amp or fuzz and you still want a bit of distortion? You just use the transistor line gain on the 4-track and make due with the rather edgy outcome. Singing? All quiet? and just one set of headphones? I put the headphones on, left side on my mouth, right side on the back of my head, watched the VU-Meter of the metronome on the 4 track, counted my way through the song and whispered the lyrics. All done, I repulsed the phones to the appropriate input, noticed the recording level was near zilch, turned the volume to max and printed it to tape. You can imagine that this technique increased the overall noise level to unbelievable heights. And we even managed to recreate all this in a proper studio for the opener on `Small Mother'.'

Oh, I'm sorry this is the wrong planet that I put you down on. Though the clocks are ticking forward, time stands still for all but one. They all look like humans, yet nobody's sure the are. More than one. Beam us up, spare us the pain, all is hot, too hot to care for. Taken time, we feel the need to blank our minds and start to read. Books surpassed our deafened eyes and all that turns our heads are flies. Are flies ...

--Gordon