Brexitcize

I was going to post a thing I had in my head, a lyrical outline for an exercise routine of our times. At least the times upto June 23 2016 – the date of the UK's Remain-or-Exit European Referendum.

Delicious rhyming and umami-suffused references to massaging statistics, squeezing national identity into too-tight sweatpants, lifting the weights of lies, feeling the burn of misinformation and, of course, rowing machine comedy, bench-pressed pathos and repetitious ill-fitting hats?

Yeah.

No.

A kind of politically-motivated and spin-laden dancercize, aerobicize, pilatescize, er… thing? Set to music?

Maybe.

Yes, of COURSE it was crap; it translated extraordinarily badly to the page – a lyricist I am not! So I'm not going to post it, ever, using just the title. Instead I'll, hopefully without penalty, post a part of 'Psycho Killer', a song by Talking Heads, my all-time favourite band.

But first I must say I'd thought of using 'Road To Nowhere', 'Burning Down The House', the really rather good '(Nothing But) Flowers' – this last has all in its lyrics. 'Making Flippy Floppy' was so close to appearing here.

I bought nearly all their studio stuff, Talking Heads that is, at least once, on cassette tape, CD, digital downloads (iTunes); and the Stop Making Sense DVD – a tour-de-force of concert filmmaking.

Favourite song? None.

'Once In A Lifetime' comes close, especially now, especially given the likelihood we'll get another chance at shaping our country's future.

Heck, the songs (let alone the name of the band as a metaphor for all the celebrities popping up to take sides, voice opinions) could easily form the basis of a post-apocalypse documentary film soundtrack. It's worth remembering though that, within reason, any lyric can be shaped to fit any theme, should you wish it.

And so, finally, to 'Psycho Killer':

"I can't seem to face up to the facts,
I'm tense and nervous and I can't relax,
I can't sleep 'cause my bed's on fire,
Don't touch me I'm a real live wire.

You start a conversation, you can't even finish it.
You're talkin' a lot, but you're not sayin' anything.
When I have nothing to say, my lips are sealed.
Say something once, why say it again?"

(time passes…)

Awesome.

If this resonates because you live in the USA and cannot quite believe it's still months until Super Tuesday rolls around, you may find it applies to your (coughs) Trump (coughs) epoch-making situation too!

At least here in Europe we do things on the cheap. Hundreds of millions of pounds/dollars raised from well-meaning folks and spent on ads rubbishing the opposition? Barefaced lies? Deeply entrenched views based on arguments utterly devoid of logic? No.

Er… Maybe.

Nevertheless, our politicians also share with us the promise of jam tomorrow. Oh yes.

I'm betting it'll be rhubarb.

Would you care to bet against me?

Next up, 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' by Joy Division.

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