"Nessuno piace un cervelone" (1987)

by Coil

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03:09
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03:42
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05:00
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02:35
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about

Soundtrack. The film is about a young catholic soldier who deserts the British army in 1980s Northern Ireland, after seeing a child shot in a playground. He journeys through the Irish republic, France and into Italy, and finally arrives in Rome, where he makes an unexpected connection with his past.

credits

released March 1, 1987

Phil Dann (keyboards, guitars,vocals, drums and machines)
Finbar Lillis (vocals and samples)

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about

Coil UK

Genre: new wave, post punk, fast, sharp, slightly chippy, good SOH, mature, attractive, desirable, not too stupid.

Members: Phil Dann (guitar, vocals), Tony Harrison (bass, vocals), , Kev Jones (drums), Finbar Lillis (vocals) Steve Curtis (percussion, vocals)
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Track Name: Patience
Patience

The time has passed, the chance has gone,
When all of my hopes and ropes were hung;
Get into a car and drive.

Where do lovers go to pass the hours,
Together?

They’ll never get it out.
They never will get out.

What happens when you stand still in a queue?
The others in the line refuse to overtake you.
Trade in the angst for a salary;
How much to show you care?

What happens when you stand still in a queue?
What happens when you wear a uniform?
My national uniform?

They’ll never get it out.
They never will get out.
They’ll never get it out.
They’ll never get it out.

Sweep a small grin into the corners, lift up your eyes,
To the welcome wall.
A patch of ground, a clearing in the town,
Their eyes were watered by the wine.

They’ll never get it out.
They never will get out.
They’ll never get it out.
Track Name: Hang 'em Out
Hang them out

All around the world
In every washing machine.
There are clothes rotating,
Washing souls clean.

Baby Docs silk pyjamas,
Mr and Mrs Marcos’s tablecloths.
Mr Botha’s nightie,
Washing souls clean.

Washing souls clean….
Washing souls clean.
Washing souls

General Pinochet’s v-necked sweater,
Khomeini’s dribbly bib.
Gentle programmes for the mighty,
Washing souls clean.

Washing souls clean….
Washing souls clean.
Washing souls…

All around the world
In every washing machine.
There are clothes rotating,
Washing souls clean.

Washing souls clean.
Washing souls…
Track Name: Riding an Aerogramme Home
Riding an Aerogramme Home

Goldenberg, leaning on a shovel,
Five miles out of town,
Tips his forty shilling hat back on his head.

Hanging on a wire, swinging on a thread,
A hundred and fifty feet above the ground,
Wing dipping under a sodden August sky.

Riding an aerogramme home,
Espresso, guess so?
Riding an aerogramme home,
Espresso, guess so?

Jack and Molly and Phoebe McGrath,
Mouths full of egg and cress,
Stare up from their rusty corrugated shed.

Hanging on a wire, swinging on a thread,
Swinging on a wire, hanging, on a thread,
Wing dipping under a sodden August sky.

Riding an aerogramme home,
Espresso, guess so?
Riding an aerogramme home,
Espresso, guess so?

Riding an aerogramme home…
Riding an aerogramme home…

Hanging on a wire, swinging on a thread,
Swinging on a wire, hanging, on a thread,
Wing dipping under a sodden August sky.

Riding an aerogramme home,
Espresso, guess so?
Riding an aerogramme home,
Espresso, guess so?

Side by side on the bed,
Songs of gay Paris,
Extraordinary visions of a better bourgeoisie.
Track Name: Green and Clear
Green and Clear

Soul Music at the Too Much Club tonight,
Oh Danny, could you be there?

Ultra violet kisses blow,
He couldn’t help but know.

Something special in the air,
I can feel it everywhere.
It’s in my mind.

She moves into her body like a glove,
Over to the dance floor.
Blue amphetamine grin for you,
But could he see you through?

Something special in the air,
I can feel it everywhere
It’s in my mind.

Something special in the air,
I can feel it everywhere.
It’s in my mind.

Soul music is the trigger of the gun.
Track Name: Becoming One with my Lunch
Becoming one with my lunch

Merging with the railway track,
Becoming one with my lunch,
Twenty-four across racking my brain.
Rattling down the tiny mountain train,
Lofganger, cross-country skier,
Spiralling from the hub.

Ski away…

Straying from the piste for a slug of Jenape and a slow draw,
Sliding away from the law.
I am atoned for my frosty sins,
Skiing home on skinny pins,
Parallel to the wood.

Ski away…

Slate stacked one mile high,
Holding its breath and waiting,
For the answer to 13 down.
Slip, slap, slide, slurge,
Tide-rip, snowflake let’s try to free associate…
Come on, John.

Ski away…
Track Name: Swing like a Parrot
Swing like a parrot

I’m letting my heart swing like a parrot,
Bleeding, dying at the bottom of its cage.
I’m making a mess of squeezing juicy news,
From the middle of a middling middle age.

I gain zero from zero.
Nothing from five percent
Is five per cent of five per cent,
Less than nothing at all.

I’m letting my job squeeze out the last drop of fun, from a fun- sequestered age.

I’m letting my heart swing like a parrot,
Dying at the bottom of its cage.
Track Name: Terry and Jack
Terry and Jack

Terry walked out the newspaper shop,
Into the arms of Jack.
Staggered off and made an excuse,
I’m really, really sorry.

All the boys in Terry’s town
Love computers.
Life is lived in the binary mode,
Two and three is four.

Jack never says a word,
Terry crashed his programme.
Run, go to, poke and peak,
He’s said it all before.

Couldn’t come to your party,
Guess I owe you an apology.
Couldn’t come to your party.

Seven men crossed over the bridge,
Into the arms of Zion.
Bye-bye Mum and Dad,
We’re really, really sorry.

Couldn’t come to your party,
Guess I owe you an apology.
Couldn’t come to your party.


Couldn’t come to your party,
Fall down on my bended knees,
Couldn’t come to your party…

No jobs for anyone,
Not even Anatoly Sharansky.
No part-time dumb waiters wanted,
We’re really, really sorry.

All the boys in Terry’s town,
Connected up by modem.
Signal home from work to base,
Put the kettle on…
Track Name: Hot Food
Hot Food

Cibo caldo, cibo cold.
Piacissimo una sorprese.

Hot food,
Baked potato.
Two for lunch,
three for tea.
I love fancy eating,
Calabrese, disoccupati.

There is something for you in the oven.
I hope it chokes you,
I hope it makes you spit.

(Da me un’ altro piatto di contorno)

No… no more gravy.
Salty, salty.
Makes me.

There is something for you in the oven.
I hope it chokes you,
I hope it makes you cry.

Miso.
Miso.
Hungry!

Tofu.
No more cancer,
For the folks of
Hiroshima!

C’e qualcosa for you in the forno.
Spero che chokes tu.
I hope it makes you shit.

Carotine. Vitamine A.
Posso vederci.
Vedermi anche.

Cibo, cibo…
Track Name: Hold me Close
Hold me Close

There’s a little disorder,
A little chaos,
In our corner of the world.
There’s a little disorder
A man on the ground
In our corner of the world.

Someone get close there,
Get down to him.
Is he breathing? Is he dead?
Someone get close there,
Get down to his mouth!
What’s he saying? Can you hear?

Hold me close,
In your arms,
Keep me safe,
Keep me warm.

You must know him,
Seen you walking with him,
Round our corner of the world.
You must know him,
Get him out of here.
Get him out of our corner of the world.
Get him out. He’s insane. Get him out of here and put him on a plane.

Someone get close here,
Get down to me.
Am I breathing? Am I dead?
Someone get close here,
Get down to my mouth…

You must know him… train.

Hold me close,
In your arms,
Keep me safe,
Keep me warm.