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U2: Pop

 A l b u m   D e t a i l s


Label: Island Records
Released: 1997
Time:
 60:05
Category: Pop/Rock
Producer(s): Flood, Howie B., Steve Osborne
Rating: **........ (2/10)
Media type: CD
Web address: www.u2.com
Appears with:
Purchase date: 1998.12.19
Price in €: 16,99



 S o n g s ,   T r a c k s


[1] Discothèque (Bono/Edge/U2)
[2] Do You Feel Loved (Bono/Edge/U2)
[3] Mofo (U2)
[4] If God Will Send His Angels (Bono/Edge/U2)
[5] Staring at the Sun (Bono/Edge/U2)
[6] Last Night on Earth (Bono/Edge/U2)
[7] Gone (Bono/Edge/U2)
[8] Miami (Bono/Edge/U2)
[9] Playboy Mansion (Bono/Edge/U2)
[10] If You Wear That Velvet Dress (Bono/Edge/U2)
[11] Please (Bono/Edge/U2)
[12] Wake up Dead Man (Bono/Edge/U2)

 A r t i s t s ,   P e r s o n n e l


THE EDGE - Organ, Guitar, Keyboards, Vocals
PAUL "Bono Vox" HEWSON - Guitar, Vocals
ADAM CLAYTON - Bass Guitar
LARRY MULLEN Jr. - Percussion, Programming, Loops

DES BROADBERY - Programming
MARIUS DEVRIES - Keyboards
FLOOD - Keyboards, Producer, Mixing
MARK FISHER - Artwork
NELLEE HOOPER - Photography
HOWIE B - Keyboards, Turntables, Engineer, Mixing
ALAN MOULDER - Engineer
STEVE OSBORNE - Keyboards, Engineer, Mixing
MARK "Spike" STENT - Engineer, Mixing
HOWIE WEINBERG - Mastering
STEVE AVERILL - Design
ANDY VANDETTE - Digital Editing
ROB KIRWAN - Assistant Engineer, Mixing Assistant
ANTON CORBIJN - Photography
DES BROADBERY - Programming
CHERYL ENGELS - Post Production, Supervisor
FEMIO HERNANDEZ - Assistant Engineer
BEN HILLIER - Programming
CONAL MARKEY - Assistant Engineer, Mixing Assistant
CANDIDA BOTTACI - Assistant Producer
ANJA GRABERT - Photography
DEBORAH MANNIS-GARDNER - Sample Clearance
SHAUGHN MCGRATH - Design, Treatments
STEPHANE SEDNAOUI - Photography
JOE O'HERLIHY - Monitor Engineer
RICHARD RAINEY - Mixing Assistant
ROBIN BALL - Mixing Assistant

 C o m m e n t s ,   N o t e s


No matter which way you look at it, Pop doesn't have the same shock of the new that Achtung Baby delivered on its first listen. Less experimental and more song-oriented than Zooropa, Pop attempts to sell the glitzy, electronic rush of techno to an audience weaned on arena-rock. And that audience includes U2 themselves. While they never sound like they don't believe in what they're doing, they still remove most of the radical elements of electronic dance, which is evident to anyone with just a passing knowledge of the Chemical Brothers and Underworld. To a new listener, however, Pop has flashes of surprise - particularly on the rampaging "Mofo" - but underneath the surface, U2 relies on anthemic rockers and ballads. "Discotheque" might be a little clumsy, but "Staring at the Sun" shimmers with synthesizers borrowed from Massive Attack and a chorus Noel Gallagher will think he has written. Similarly, "Do You Feel Loved" and "If You Wear That Velvet Dress" fuse old-fashioned U2 dynamicism with a keen sense of the cool eroticism that makes trip-hop so alluring. Problems arise when the group tries to go for the conventional rock song, not only in "Last Night on Earth," but also on "Miami" which rides a menacing groove that becomes deflated once the guitars come crashing down. "Miami" also is symptomatic of the return of U2's crusade for salvation. Pop is inflicted with the desire for a higher power to come save the world for its jaded spiral of decay and immorality, which is why the group's embrace of dance music never seems joyous - instead of providing an intoxicating rush gloss and glamour, it functions as a backdrop for a plea of salvation. Achtung Baby also was a comment on the numbing isolation of modern culture, but it made sweeping statements through personal observations; Pop makes sweeping statements through sweeping observations. The difference is what makes Pop an easy record to admire, but a hard one to love.

Stephen Thoms Erlewine, All-Music Guide



"Pop ist eine perfekte Runderneuerung, der musikalische Stand der Dinge. Ein multipler Sound-Urknall und reichlich Popkorn für die Plattenmaschine: "Pop" bedeutet schließlich "Knall".

C. Dick in Audio 4/97



Let's get one thing straight: despite the utter inanity of the now-ubiquitous "Discotheque" and a plethora of hype to the contrary, U2 has not reinvented itself as a techno band. Pop is not exactly the document of a band's brave new step into electronica; it's simply Achtung Baby, Part Deux - and that's a good thing.

Sonically, Pop again makes liberal use of all those bells and whistles that first appeared on Achtung - Edge's watery guitar sound of "One," the siren of "Until the End of the World," the loops of of "Tryin' to Throw Your Arms Around the World" and even Bono's falsettos and newfound yodels are sprinkled lovingly throughout Pop. Along the way, the band throws in more intriguing loop-de-loops, buzzsaws, and wacka-wackas along the same lines, and with the same taste. It's a rich, delicious meal, one that takes multiple listens to digest, and leaves a ghost of a sense memory.

But ultimately, like good real estate agents with their location, location, location mantra, U2 prides itself on songs, songs, songs. And it's surprising how little credit they receive for it these days. Achtung Baby was remarkable for the personal touch of its lyrics (the downright sadness of songs like "Until the End of the World," "Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses," and "Love is Blindness" was often overshadowed by the band's bluster, perhaps intentionally). Here the touch is just as sensitive in some places, more sensual in others ("If You Wear That Velvet Dress" is all lust, yet scarily romantic).

And curiously, at the core of Pop lies a sober spiritual center. The members of U2, you may recall, are deeply religious, and despite their efforts to playfully portray themselves as decadent rock stars, they take the opportunity here to sneak in works of ascetic contemplation and urgent prayer: "If God Will Send His Angels" is achingly beautiful; "Please" is this album's "Acrobat" - its anger scorches as it builds to a dramatic climax; and the album's closer, "Wake Up Dead Man," is a bitter plea to Jesus to return to fix the world's ills.

For the last few years, U2 has operated with a public/ private duality: while piling on a thick layer of irony on grotesquely overblown tours, they've quietly written very personal songs - and crafted them elegantly. The band's standards don't seem to allow for anything less.

John Bitzer, Rating: 8 (out of 10), Copyright © 1994-1999 CDNow, Inc. All rights reserved.



The conventional, major-label A&R wisdom on electronica boils down to this: "If only we could find a rock band that plays dance music and can write real songs." U2 did just that on "Pop" - and nobody cared. Maybe they overhyped the techno angle; "Pop" is far more economical in its art-pop disturbance than "Achtung Baby" and less flamboyant in its ache than "The Joshua Tree." There are loops aplenty, but Pop is about hearts beating, not just pulse beats, and the best mix of sob and throb is in the ballads, a U2 specialty: the grim burbling of "Gone," Bono's arcing anguish in "Please." Taken on its own - away from the chart numbers and the big shtick of PopMart - "Pop" is simply an album of great pop. For some reason, for a lot of folks, that's just not enough.

Then there's the Bowie Problem. With the metal-machine-music overload of 1995's "Outside" and "Earthling"'s lip-service approach to drum-and-bass, Bowie has been making too big a deal of staying even with the pop fashion curve. The result: He ends up selling his new material short. The way Bowie lit into "Earthling" numbers like "Looking for Satellites" and "Seven Years in Tibet" on his recent, career-overview club tour proved that he's much better off when he stops worrying about eclipsing his past and spends more time enjoying it - like we do. (RS 776/777)

Copyright © 1968-1999 Rolling Stone Network. All Rights Reserved.



Conscious that almost all Important Artists "grow" during their careers, U2 - whose ambitions for their own room in Cleveland have never been a matter of debate - seem to have collectively decided during the last few years to "grow" by messing with the texture of their songs, to become less traditionally rawk and more electronic - more, you know, '90s. That's fine, and more power to 'em for wanting to mix things up. But with Pop, as with their last two albums, said strategy again turned out to be a colossal aesthetic error.

Cuz no matter how many times they call the Rent-A- Genius Hotline - producers like Howie B., Flood and Alan Moulder are apparently making house calls while Brain Eno is on sabbatical in St. Petersburg - U2, like everyone else, can't successfully manufacture innovation, even if they do have the bank to hole up in four studios simultaneously for nine fucking months in a repeating loop of recording, remixing and re-recording. Because whatever U2 gets from the "sound consultants" they outsource their artiste credibility from these days is inevitably sacrificed to the staid song structures that Bono & Co. refuse to let go of (unlike, say, Radiohead, Bjork, or U2 themselves on 1995's Passengers album).

And frankly, the songs themselves rarely call for all the extras grafted onto them here: certainly not all the extraneous, instantly-dated studio trickery and definitely not the Dance Rock 101 beats emailed in by drummer Larry Mullen. The combination that U2 creates here fails so completely that it anticipates something even more frightening: the back-to-basics/ "stripped-down rock and roll"/ "we-lost-our-minds-with-our-last-three-albums" record that U2 will inevitably make come 1999, which will of course return them to full commercial glory.

Is this really the Third Worst Album of the Year? I dunno, but Pop in 1997 was more than a record - it was a carefully orchestrated multimedia event involving an insultingly vapid tour concept, an ABC prime time special, and, worst of all, something like 900 pages of press coverage filled with Bono's pretentious blather (e.g., "We're trying to marry club music to traditional pop songcraft"). As U2 has enthusiastically bought into the Corporate Rock mindset that demands multi-million dollar recording contracts, studio bills, advertising campaigns, videos, and 18-month worldwide stadium tours, they should be held responsible for their role in this Media Overkill - and for that they certainly deserve a big raspberry.

That said, the 15 seconds from 2:23 to 2:38 of "Discotheque" feature one of the coolest, nastiest guitar sounds I've ever heard.

Jay W. Babcock, Grumpasaurus, Copyright © 1994-1999 CDNow, Inc. All rights reserved.



Pop is a mighty big word for its three little letters, and Pop the album covers all the bases: U2's new music encompasses every interpretation of the word you could offer, from the album itself, which is a bold and brilliantly ironic artistic statement for the '90s, to the band being a bunch of aging alterna-arena-rockers dabbling in irony and camp because they heard that's the popular thing these days. Having ushered us inside the velvet ropes of the single, "Discothèque," Pop finds the Edge, Adam Clayton, Larry Mullen, Jr., and the Fly mingling with royalty and rough trade under a swirling disco ball. Much of the album's imagery and style suggest the playgrounds of the rich and decadent, the intrigues of the super-rich (sample song titles: "Miami," "The Playboy Mansion," "If You Wear That Velvet Dress"). Frankly, there's not nearly as much drum'n'bass or "club" influence as we'd been expecting from all the rumors floating around the last few months. That said, some of the album does come off as gesture rather than actual substance, reflecting a world where a flamboyant entrance or a memorable catch-prase carries more weight than actual meaning or communication. The exceptions to this sweeping statement are, of course, the ballads, peaceful, massive, stadium-rousing anthems such as "If God Will Send His Angels," "Gone," and especially "The Playboy Mansion," where Bono and the group eschew the glitz and tell us what they really think of it all. Stay tuned for the band to undertake one of the most ambitious tours ever (and one of the biggest traveling video screens, we're told) this summer.

© 1978-1999 College Media Inc. All rights reserved



If one's to believe all the ink about electronic music as the next big thing, then dance music is the new rock and roll. Pop embellishes U2's musical aesthetic with samples, percussive loops, distortions and compressions - yet those elements never overwhelm the band's own personality. Think about it: this band has always played with a similar hip-shakin', bottom-heavy execution through Larry Mullen Jr.'s incessant drumming, Adam Clayton's rib-jangling basslines, and the Edge's minimal axe-picking.

And it works like gangbusters, and places Bono on fertile ground to explore his favorite quandaries: the loss of faith in a world without God ("If God Will Send His Angels,'' "Wake Up Dead Man''), disillusionment with a world of surfaces ("Last Night on Earth,'' "Gone''), and love in a time when "you take what you can get, 'cause it's all that you can find.''

Pop isn't exactly U2-goes-techno, but it's a rock record that would sound great on a dance floor. In a pop landscape which continually fragments itself, I guess that's enough to count as significant.

© 1999 MTV Networks. All Rights Reserved.



Bono's mom always told him not to stand too close to the Edge, fortunately he never heeded her advice.On the song 'Mofo' Bono pays tribute to the mother he lost as a child with the words.. "Mother you left and made me someone, now I'm still a child but no one tells me no".
Being the biggest band on the planet has its pros and cons; you have access to the best producers, equipment and studios. The largest media spotlight beaming at you permanently, a world full of fans queing at midnight to buy your newest release and you can hang out with any celebrity and get into any club you like. The cons are that you have to keep on producing the goods, absorbing and re-creating the cutting edge and staying ahead of the pack of young pretenders.

Since the quasi-U2 album "Passengers" that followed "Zooropa", U2 monitored the techno onslaught and decided to bring in Flood and Howie B to produce their latest album, thereby discarding their own "George Martin" Brian Eno. So one would expect a high-tech U2 album, but one would be wrong. "Pop" is really the third in the trilogy of albums that began with "Achtung Baby" and "Zooropa". The songs are the usual mixture of hard guitar rock , Bono balladeering and tight rhythm section. The producers have beefed up the sound with backround distortion and sound effects but basically there's no major departure from the solid songs that are U2's strength. The first single "Discotheque" implied a new direction but songs like "Staring at the sun", "If God will send his angels" and "The Playboy mansion" are classic U2.

"Gone" and "Miami" are hard and dirty while the two closing tracks "Please" and "Wake up dead man" could have been on 'The Joshua Tree'. As with REM, U2 always sound like they would like to try something completely different but what they have works fine so why deviate from a winning formula. Stuff Techno ! U2 are still the tightest and coolest band on the planet, the only Techno thing about this album is the cover. Jacques Brel said it takes great talent to grow old without growing up... Bono is still a child but NO ONE tells him no........its a good thing !!
 

 L y r i c s


Discotheque

You can reach, but you can't grab it
You can't hold it, control it, you can't bag it
You can push, but you can't direct it
Circulate, regulate, oh no, you cannot connect it

You know you're chewing bubblegum
You know what that is, but you still want some
You just can't get enough of that lovie dovie stuff

You get confused, but you know it
Yeh you hurt for it, work for it, LOVE
You don't always show it

LET GO, LET'S GO, DISCOTHEQUE
GO GO LET GO DISCOTHEQUE

Looking for the one
But you know you're somewhere else instead
You want to be the song
The song that you hear in your head

It's no trick, you can't learn it
It's the way you don't pay, that's okay
'Cos you can't earn it

You know you're chewing bubblegum
You know what that is, but you still want some
You just can't get enough of that lovie dovie stuff

LET GO, LET'S GO ... DISCOTHEQUE
GO GO ... LET GO ... DISCOTHEQUE

Looking for the one
But you know you're somewhere else instead
I want to be the song
The song that you hear in your head

But you take what you can get
'Cause it's all that you can find
Oh you know there's something more
But tonight, tonight, tonight

BOOM CHA
BOOM CHA
DISCOTHEQUE


Do You Feel Loved

Take these hands they're good for nothing
You know these hands have never worked a day
Take these boots they're going nowhere
You know these boots they don't want to stray

You got my head filled with songs
You got my shoelaces undone
Take my shirt go on take it off me
You can tear it up
If you can tie me down

Do you feel loved? Do you feel loved?

Take the colours of my imagination
Take the scent hanging in the air
Take this tangle of a coversation
And turn it into your own prayer

With my fingers as you want them
With my nails under your hide
With my teeth at your back
And my tongue to tell you the sweetest lies

Do you feel loved? Do you feel loved?

Love's a bully pushing shoving
In the belly of a woman
Heavy rhythm taking over
To stick together
A man and a woman
Stick together
Man and woman
Stick together ...

Do you feel loved?
Do you feel loved?

And it looks like the sun
But it feels like the rain
And there's heat in the sun
To see us through the rain


Mofo

lookin' for to save my soul
lookin' in the places where no flowers grow
lookin' for to fill that GOD shaped hole
mother mother sucking rock and roll

(been around the back... been around the front)

holy dunc, spacejunk comin' in for the splash
white dopes on punk staring into the flash
lookin' for baby Jesus under the trash

mother mother suckin' rock and roll
mother (scat singing) rock and roll

mother am I still your son, you know I've waited for so
long to hear you say so
mother you left and made me someone
now I'm still a child but no one tells me no

lookin' for a sound that's gonna drown out the world
lookin' for the father of my two little girls
got the swing got the sway got my straw in lemonade
still looking for the face I had before the world was made

mother mother sucking rock and roll
bubble poppin' sugar droppin' rock and roll

(scat singing)

woo me sister
move me brother
soothe me mother
rule me father
show me mothe


If God Will Send His Angels

nobody else here baby no one else here to blame
no one to point the finger... it's just you and me and the rain
nobody made you do it, no one put words in your mouth
nobody here taking orders when love took a train heading south
it's the blind leading the blond
it's the stuff the stuff of country songs

HEy IF GOD WILL SEND HIS ANGELS
AND IF GOD WILL SEND A SIGN
AND IF GOD WILL SEND HIS ANGELS
would everything be alright?

God has got his phone off the hook babe would he even pick up if he could?
it's been a while since we saw that child hangin' round this neighbourhood
see His mother dealing in a doorway see Father Christmas with a begging bowl
Jesus sister's eyes are blister ... THE HIGH STREET never looked so low

it's the blind leading the blond
it's the cops collecting for the cons
so where is the hope and where is the faith ... and the love?

what's that you say to me
does love... light up your Christmas tree?
the next minute you're blowing a fuse
and the cartoon network turns into the news

HEy IF GOD WILL SEND HIS ANGELS
AND IF GOD WILL SEND A SIGN
WELL IF GOD WILL SEND HIS ANGELS
WHERE DO WE GO

Jesus never let me down you know Jesus used to show me the score
then they put Jesus in show business now it's hard to get in the door
it's the stuff it's the stuff of country songs
but I guess it was something to go on

HEy IF GOD WILL SEND HIS ANGELS
I SURE COULD USE THEM HERE RIGHT NOW
WELL IF GOD WILL SEND HIS ANGELS
WHERE DO WE GO...
(Scat singing)


Staring at the Sun

SUMMER stretching on the grass... summer dresses pass
in the shade of a willow tree creeps a crawling over me
over me and over you stuck together with God's glue
it's going to get stickier too...
it's been a long hot summer
let's go undercover
don't try too hard to think... don't think at all

I'm not the only one starin' at the sun
afraid of what you'd find if you took a look inside
not just deaf and dumb i'm staring at the sun
not the only one who's happy to go blind

there's an insect in your ear if you scratch it won't disappear
it's gonna itch and burn and sting
do you want to see what the scratching brings
waves that leave me out of reach
breaking on your back like a beach...
will we ever live in peace?
'cause those that can't do often have to
those that can't do often have to... preach

to the ones staring at the sun...
afraid of what you'll find if you took a look inside
not just deaf and dumb... staring at the sun
I'm not the only one who'd rather go blind

intransigence is all around... military is still in town
armour plated suits and ties... daddy just won't say goodbye
referee won't blow the whistle God is good but will HE listen
I'm nearly great
but there's something I'm missing I left in the duty free
though you never really belonged to me

you're not the only one staring at the sun
afraid of what you'd find if you stepped back inside
I'm not sucking my thumb I'm staring at the sun
not the only one who's happy to go blind


Last Night On Earth

she feels the ground is giving way
BUT she thinks WE'RE better off that way
"the more you take the less you feel
the less you know the more you believe
the more you have the more it takes today"

YOU GOT TO GIVE IT AWAY
YOU GOT TO GIVE IT AWAY
YOU GOT TO GIVE IT AWAY
well she DON'T CARE WHAT IT'S worth
SHE'S LIVING LIKE IT'S THE LAST NIGHT ON EARTH

she's not waiting on a saviour to come
she's at a bus-stop with the NEWS OF THE WORLD
AND THE sun sun here it comes
she's not waiting for anyone

YOU GOT TO GIVE IT AWAY
YOU GOT TO GIVE IT AWAY
YOU GOT TO GIVE IT AWAY
well she DON'T CARE WHAT IT'S worth
SHE'S LIVING LIKE IT'S THE LAST NIGHT ON EARTH

slipping away... slip slide... (the clock tells her that time is slipping...)
the world turns and we get dizzy (minute hands and second sticking...)
slipping away (there's something going on she)
(might be missing)
(the world turns and we get dizzy)
(is it spinning for you the way it's)
(spinning for me)

she's living living next week now
you know she's going to pay it back somehow
she hasn't been to bed in a week
she'll be dead soon then she'll sleep

(in CD lyric booklet, above two lines read:
the future is so predictable
the past is too uncomfortable)

YOU GOT TO GIVE IT AWAY
YOU GOT TO GIVE IT AWAY
YOU GOT TO GIVE IT AWAY
she ALREADY knows it hurts
SHE'S LIVING LIKE IT'S THE LAST NIGHT ON EARTH
LAST NIGHT ON EARTH
LAST NIGHT ON EARTH


Gone

you get to feel so guilty got so much for so little
then you find that feeling just won't go away
you're holding on to every little thing so tightly
till there's nothing left for you anyway

GOODBYE YOU CAN KEEP THIS SUIT OF LIGHTS
I'LL BE UP WITH THE SUN
ANDNOTCOMINGDOWN... IMNOTCOMINGDOWN
IMNOTCOMINGDOWN

you wanted to get somewhere so badly
you had to lose yourself along the way
you change a name but that's okay... it's necessary
and what you leave behind you don't miss anyway

GOODBYE YOU CAN KEEP THIS SUIT OF LIGHTS
I'LL BE UP WITH THE SUN
ANDNOTCOMINGDOWN... IMNOTCOMINGDOWN
IMNOTCOMINGDOWN

AND I'M ALREADY GONE
FELT that way all along
closer to you every day
didn't want it that much anyway

you're taking steps that make you feel dizzy
then you get to like the way it feels
you hurt yourself you hurt your lover
then you discover...
what you thought was freedom is just greed
goodbye... no emotional goodnight
I'll be up with the sun
are you still holding on
I'm not coming down
I'm not coming down


Miami

weather 'round here choppin' and changin'
surgery in the air
print shirts and southern accents
cigars and big hair
we got the wheels and petrol is cheap
only went there for a week
got the sun got the sand
got the batteries in the handycam...

her eyes all swimming pool blue
dumb bells on a diving board
baby's always attracted to the things she's afraid of
big girl with the sweet tooth
watches the skinny girl in the photo shoot
freshmen squeaky clean
she tastes of chlorine
MIAMI MY MAMMY

love the movies... love to walk those movie sets
get to shoot someone in the foot
get to smoke some cigarettes
no big deal we know the score
just back from the video store
got the car and the car chase
what's he got inside the case
I want a close up of that face
here comes the car chase
MIAMI MY MAMMY
MIAMI

I bought two new suits... miami
pinK AND BLUE.. MIAMI
I took a picture of you... miami
getting hot in a photo booth... miami
I said you looked like a madonna
you said... maybe... said I want to have your baby... BABY
WE COULD MAKE something beautiful
something that wouldn't be a problem
at least not in... miami

some places are like your auntie
but there's no place like
MIAMI MY MAMMY


The Playboy Mansion

If Coke is a mystery, and Michael Jackson ... history
If beauty is truth, and surgery the fountain of youth
What am I to do?
Have I got the gifts to get me through
The gates of that mansion

If OJ is more than a drink, a Big Mac bigger you think
If perfume is an obsession, and talk shows ... confession
What have we got to lose?
Another push and maybe we'll be through
The gates of that mansion

I never bought a lotto ticket
I never parked in anyone's space
And the banks they're like cathedrals
I guess casinos took their place
Love come on down
Don't wake her, she'll come around

Chance is a kind of religion
Where you're damned for plain hard luck
I never did see that movie, and I never did read that book
Love, come on down, let my numbers come around

Don't know if I can hold on
Don't know if I'm that strong
Don't know if I can wait that long
Til the colors come flashing and the lights go on

Then will there be no time of sorrow?
Then will there be no time for shame?
And though I can't say why
I know I've got to believe

We'll go diving in that pool
It's who you know that gets you through
The gates of the Playboy Mansion
The Playboy Mansion
In the Playboy Mansion

Then will there be no time of sorrow?
Then will there be no time for shame?


If You Wear That Velvet Dress

tonight the moon is playing tricks again
feeling sea sick again
and the whole world could just dissolve... into a glass of water

I've been good 'cause I know you don't want me to
do you really want me to be blue as you
it's her daylight that gets me through

we've been here before... last time you scratched at my door
the moon was naked and cold I was like a two year old
who just wanted more
if you wear that velvet dress
if you wear that velvet dress

tonight the moon has drawn its curtains
it's a private show no one else is going to know
I'm wanting

sunlight sunlight fills my room
it's sharp and it's clear
but nothing at all like the moon

it's okay the struggle for things not to say
I never listened to you anyway
and I got my own hands to pray...

but if you wear that velvet dress
but if you wear that velvet dress

tonight the moon is a mirrorball
light flickers from across the hall
who'll catch the star when it falls

if you wear that velvet dress


Please

so you never knew love until you crossed the line of grace
and you never felt wanted till you had someone slap your face
so you never felt alive until you almost wasted away

you had to win
you couldn't just pass
the smartest ass
at the top of the class
your flying colours
your family tree
and all your lessons in history

please... please... please get up off your knees...
please... please... leave me out of this
please

so you never knew how long you'd stoop to make that call
and you never knew what was on the ground till they made you crawl
so you never knew that the heaven you keep you stole

your catholic blues
your convent shoes
your stick on tattoos
now they're making the news
your holy war
your northern star
your sermon on the mount
from the boot of your car

please...please... please get up off your knees
please...please... leave me out of this please

so love is hard and love is tough
but love is not what you're thinking of

september... streets capsizing... spilling over down the drain
...shards of glass splinters like rain but you could only feel your own pain...

october... talking getting nowhere... November... December...
remember...
are we just starting again...?

so love is big bigger than us
but love is not what you're thinking of
IT'S what lovers deal it's what lovers steal
you know i've found it hard to recieve
'cause you my love I could never believe


Wake Up, Dead Man

Jesus, Jesus help me
I'm alone in this world
and a fucked up world it is too
tell me, tell me the story
the one about eternity
and the way it's all gonna be
WAKE UP WAKE UP DEAD MAN
WAKE UP WAKE UP DEAD MAN

Jesus, I'm waiting here boss
I know you're looking out for us
but maybe your hands aren't free
Your Father, He made the world in seven
He's in charge of Heaven
will you put in a word for me
WAKE UP WAKE UP DEAD MAN
WAKE UP WAKE UP DEAD MAN

listen to your words they'll tell you what to do
listen over the rhythm that's confusing you
listen to the reed in the saxophone
listen over the hum in the radio
listen over sounds of blades in rotation
listen through the traffic and circulation
listen as hope and peace try to rhyme
listen over marching bands playing out their time
WAKE UP WAKE UP DEAD MAN
WAKE UP WAKE UP DEAD MAN

Jesus, were you just around the corner?
did you think to try and warn her?
or are you working on something new?
if there's an order in all of this disorder
is it like a tape recorder?
can we rewind it just once more?
WAKE UP WAKE UP DEAD MAN
WAKE UP WAKE UP DEAD MAN

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