Really don’t mind if you sit this one out
~ a playlist for the cerebrally silly sod and the Renaissance-listening bev and the yelping lil’ music nerd in all of us ~
Artists: Jethro Tull + Yes + Genesis + King Crimson
- Tracks for English dandy whimsy and psychedelic mysticism and folksy, symphonic, orchestrative and altogether artistic prog rock
- Music for musicians & magicians … preferably, one and the same
- [Verse 1] Really don’t mind if you sit this one out / My word’s but a whisper, your deafness a shout / I may make you feel but I can’t make you think / Your sperm’s in the gutter, your love’s in the sink / So you ride yourselves over the fields / And you make all your animal deals / And your wise men don’t know how it feels [Refrain] To be thick as a brick
And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away
In the tidal destruction, the moral melee
The elastic retreat rings the close of play
As the last wave uncovers the newfangled way
But your new shoes are worn at the heels
And your suntan does rapidly peel
And your wise men don’t know how it feels
[Refrain]
To be thick as a brick
Sitting on a park bench
Eyeing little girls with bad intent
Snot running down his nose
Greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes
Hey, Aqualung
Drying in the cold sun
Watching as the frilly panties run
Hey, Aqualung
Feeling like a dead duck
Spitting out pieces of his broken luck
Whoa, Aqualung
In and around the lake
Mountains come out of the sky and they stand there
One mile over we’ll be there and we’ll see you
Ten true summers we’ll be there and laughing too
Twenty four before my love you’ll see
I’ll be there with you
And rearrange your liver to the solid mental grace
“Can you tell me where my country lies?”
Said the unifaun to his true love’s eyes
“It lies with me!” cried the Queen of Maybe
For her merchandise, he traded in his prize
Coming at you every Sunday?
See the face on the billboard?
Well that man is me
On the cover of a magazine
There’s no question why I’m smiling
You buy a piece of paradise, you buy a piece of me
Cat’s foot, iron claw
Neuro-surgeons scream for more
At paranoia’s poison door
Twenty-first century schizoid man
[Verse 2]
Blood rack, barbed wire
Politicians’ funeral pyre
Innocents raped with napalm fire
Twenty-first century schizoid man
The rusted chains of prison moons
Are shattered by the sun
I walk a road, horizons change
The tournament’s begun
The purple piper plays his tune
The choir softly sing
Three lullabies in an ancient tongue
[Refrain]
For the court of the crimson king, aah
Aah, aah
~ Vibe
Mystico-Comedo-Politico lyrics from and for an age of revolutionary conscious awakenings and undertakings – for sinking your heart and mind into ~ sounds, images, and words ~ for the changing of your heart and mind toward some kind of action.
~ Aesthetic ~
Psychedelia and metaphysics, the passions of the natural world, long orchestrations and longer egos, non-sequitur verses, with one-off choruses, and dancing vocalizations that go everywhere and nowhere / Eclectic builds, odd time sigs, strange themes and manifold visionary stadia over 40+ year careers in rock n’ roll.
Moods ~
~ images and words from my journal of memes to pair with the playlist:
Thresholds of Transformation 