Από τον Κόκκινο Πλανήτη στο Γαλάζιο, για μια γεύση από εξωγήινη τραγουδοποιία : αυτήν του Tim Smith, κιθαρίστα, τραγουδιστή και mastermind των Βρετανών εναλλακτικών Cardiacs. Υποθέτει κανείς ότι το “ακατόρθωτο” που αντιπροσωπεύει – ακραία ρηξικέλευθη μουσική σκέψη διατυπωμένη με φρενιτώδη, punk-oriented αμεσότητα – αποτελούσε “ύβρη” για τα κοιμώμενα ακροατήρια των ’80s, ’90s και εντεύθεν. Εξ ου και η αγνόησή του από το σύνολο τους: Ο Tim Smith είναι ίσως η πιο άδικα παραγνωρισμένη ιδιοφυία που έχει υπέσει στην αντίληψή μου, μιλώντας για “ροκ” τουλάχιστον. Ακούμε δυο tracks από το Magnum Opus των Cardiacs, Sing To God. 📀 📀 From the Red Planet to the Blue, for a taste of extraterrestrial songwriting : the one of Tim Smith, guitarist,singer and mastermind of the British alternative band Cardiacs. One assumes that the “impossible” it represents — an extremely groundbreaking way of musical thinking, formulated with frantic, punk-oriented immediacy — constituted “hubris” for the sleeping audiences of the ’80s, ’90s and thereafter. Hence his being ignored by the lot of them: Tim Smith is perhaps the most unfairly overlooked genius that’s ever come to my attention, at least when it comes to “rock music”. We hear two tracks from Cardiacs’ magnum opus, Sing to God.

00:00 Dog-like Sparky 05:53 Fiery Gun Hand

DOG-LIKE SPARKY
You ever believed in big strong daddy-legs?
And do you believe in bad flying aeroplane?
Then you will rejoice in believing in dog like sparky!
He’s all heaven sent but will he suffer from your sweetness.
If I am a dog then shake hands,
Brother, sis’, we’ll never ever sing like Barky,
We wanna be Dog Like Sparky.
No feet for me and suck red upon my belly,
We wanna be Dog Like Sparky.
Defenders of the world we make believe in;
Put your hands on the Holy Bible and scream wank.
If I am a dog then shake hands,
Brother, sis’, we’ll never ever sing like Barky,
We wanna be Dog Like Sparky.
No feet for me and suck red upon my belly,
We wanna be Dog Like Sparky.
Stay alive with or without praising him off his pins
That glisten wheel-like in their shining wheely tins.
Never mind as crawling is my in mind world with everything alive.
Stick and suck dribble in my dirty shoes
And crown me ‘everything alive’.
And so the spirits they do protect him now
Where he is all spoiled;
Where he’s too squashed and hurt by feelings.
Now eat up your hand; now eat your …
Brother, sis’, we’ll never ever sing like Barky,
We wanna be Dog Like Sparky.
No feet for me and suck red upon my belly,
We wanna be Dog Like Sparky.
No feet for me and suck red upon my belly,
No feet for me and suck red upon my belly.
Never mind as crawling is my in mind world with everything alive.
Stick and suck dribble in my dirty shoes
And crown me ‘everything alive’.
Stick and suck dribble in my dirty shoes
And crown me ‘everything alive’.
Stick and suck dribble in my dirty shoes
And crown me ‘everything alive’.
Is me alive and a-crawling?
Is my world?
Crawling is my world!
Crawling is my world!
Is me alive and a-crawling?
Is my world?
Crawling is my world!
Crawling is my world!
And so the spirits they do protect him now
Where he is all spoiled;
Where he’s too squashed and hurt by feelings.
If I am a dog then shake hands,
Brother, sis’, we’ll never ever sing like Barky,
We wanna be Dog Like Sparky.
No feet for me and suck red upon my belly,
We wanna be Dog Like Sparky.
Brother, sis’, we’ll never ever sing like Barky,
We wanna be Dog Like Sparky.
No feet for me and suck red upon my belly,
We wanna be Dog Like Sparky.
Brother, sis’, we’ll never ever sing like Barky,
We wanna be Dog Like Sparky.
No feet for me and suck red upon my belly,
We wanna be Dog Like Sparky.
Brother, sis’, we …

FIERY GUN HAND
Sacred patience (and a short silence) and
We will be sure as eggs is eggs that
Jesus will hold his fiery hand to the gun
And together we’ll blow him to the ends of the earth
To the ends of the earth
See has no lines on the sore palms of his hands
On the palms of his hands
He went off dead
He went off dead with his hand with his
Big gun fire hand
Big gun fire hand in his mouth in his hand
And puts a big gun up inside of his mouth and he
Fires til he cries
A bullet his gullet and he fires til he cries
Up inside til he-
Click! (run!)
“Hello sir I’m in a tango in a different timing I will never lose my anger,
I haven’t got a secret
Secrets are in my secret box down my avenue
Suck away my tiny dress
I’m cleaner than a filthy mess
Cleaner than a big mess!”