|
In another world
I’m the greatest thing, baby My latest creation On the cover of magazines Yeah, it’s getting rough Signing monographs daily Acclaimed by Venetian Biennales (Yeah) In my dreams In my dreams In my dreams Not my CV Nuh-uh Major gallery A funded commission Further omissions From my inventory Never won a prize I'm a finalist virgin Forever emerging Always late on the scene It’s a lean Inventory You won’t find me Head-lining the show What’s on, what’s on, what’s on my cv? Lots of empty spots on my cv I pray, some day That I make it in a major way Please say, please say How much longer will I have to wait? For that day? Yet another year Flying under the radar Undiscovered art star In a dying galaxy Zero accolades, Feeling under-curated Distinctly un-feted Move along, nothing here to see On my cv My cv My cv Yeah, got nothing to show What’s on, what’s on, what’s on my cv? (Oh What's my destiny?) Lots of empty slots on my cv (I’ve been emerging ever since my art degree) What’s on, what’s on, what’s on my cv? Lots of empty spots on my cv (Sporting my cloak of invisibility) When, oh when, oh when, will I be seen? Will I even be shown posthumously? Nothing to see-ee-ee On my cv… Dave Faulkner (Hoodoo Gurus), What's my scene?, 1987
0 Comments
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’,
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’, Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’, Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’, Deadline! Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’, Keep them presses rollin', Gotta meet my loomin’ Deadline I’ll keep the wheel a’turnin’ The midnight oil a’burnin’ A hundred hours after my bedtime Thank god for ghost editions I'll minimise impressions The rest can wait for some other time Ink ‘em up, roll ‘em up Print ‘em up, stack ‘em up Clean ‘em up, sign ‘em up, Deadline Mount ‘em up, frame ‘em up, Bump ‘em in, line ‘em up, Hang ‘em up, open up, Deadline I’m done procrastinatin’ The gallery’s a’waitin’ Director like a thorn in my side Enough with the curation Approve the invitation Gotta make the framer by five Finalise the placement Update my artist statement Socials are good to go online Ink ‘em up, roll ‘em up Print ‘em up, stack ‘em up Clean ‘em up, sign ‘em up, Deadline Mount ‘em up, frame ‘em up, Line ‘em up, hang ‘em up, Open up, bottoms up! Deadline. Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’, Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’, Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’, Gotta meet my loomin' Deadline Deadline! Ned Washington (lyrics), Dimitri Tiomkin (music). Rawhide, 1958 Crack that lid! Brand new tin of black Ink up a plate. Clear the drying rack If the lid just won’t come off Gotta grip it If you haven't etched enough, Gotta dip it If your edges are too rough Gonna rip it Now slip it, into place Line it up, get it straight Roll forward on the bed Pull back the blanket, check your plate Now rip it, rip it up When the tape is over long Gotta snip it If the pressure's over strong Gonna rip it When it's all just going wrong Gotta nip it I say nip it, in the bud I say rip it, rip it up Crack that lid! Brand new tin of black Ink up a plate. Clear the drying rack. When the lino comes your way Better chip it Gotta face a certain way? Better flip it Wanna put the screen away? Better strip it Now slip it into place Line it up, get it straight Roll forward on the bed Pull back the blanket, check your plate Now slip it into place Ink it up, get it straight Roll forward on the bed Pull back the blanket. Nothing great? Then rip it, rip it up Gerald Casale & Mark Allen Mothersbaugh (Devo), Whip it, 1980. The gremlins are lurking, can't get anything working
On the printmaking presses tonight There’s a cut in my paper and a tear in the blanket Think the pressure might be over-tight My ink is looking spare, Is that another hair? Still searching for the backing sheets I’m down on my tarlatan, running outta rags Oh, I swear I’m like a hot plate, turned up to eleven Starting to overheat (Ooo..) Goin’ crazy tryin’a make a print where every little thing (Ooo..) Is pure and good and right Ooo Ooo Ooo (Ooo..)Still a ton of revisions, before I edition, (Ooo..) None of them are black and white (Ooo..)Without any doubt, registration is out, (Ooo..)The image could be better drawn, Ooo-oo-oo-oo-ooo So I gotta keep proofing, it can only get better If I’m counting the flaws I’ve barely just begun Like a B.A.T. out of hell Every print I’ve been pulling is wrong I’m making micro-adjustments but whatever I’m doing is Wrong, wrong, wrong Like a B.A.T. out of hell Every print I’ve been pulling is wrong (Aah..) When the blanket’s down (Aah..) And the wheel’s gone round (Aah..) And I’m holding my last proof oo-oo-oo Like a beginner before the worst print ever I’ll be ripping up this one too I’m cranking up the presses just as hard as I can I’m determined, gonna get one right Trying every plate in every orientation And bumping up the opaque white But nothing here to show, still no good to go And every proof has bitten the dust And nothing’s printing up and nothing’s lining up And nothing’s looking worth the fuss (Ooo..)I’ve added in a little smidge of ultramarine, (Ooo..)Tried a little cobalt too. (Ooo..)But I’d rather be damned, you know I’m gonna be damned Ooo-oo-oo-oo (Ooo..)If I’m adding in the Prussian blue Well, I’d rather be damned, you know I’m gonna be damned, If I’m adding in the Prussian blue Well, I’d rather be damned, you know I’m gonna be damned, Rather be damned, you know I’m gonna be damned, Rather be damned, you know I’m gonna be damned, If I’m adding in the Prussian, Adding in the Prussian, Adding in the Prussian blue Goin’ crazy tryin’a make a print where every little thing Is pure and good and right Still a ton of revisions, before I edition, None of them are black and white Still not any doubt, registration is out, Still looking like a pile of dung, So I gotta keep proofing, it can only get better Gotta sort out the flaws Before I see the sun Like a B.A.T. out of hell Every print I’ve been pulling is wrong I’m making micro-adjustments but whatever I’m doing is Wrong, wrong, wrong Like a B.A.T. out of hell Every print I’ve been pulling is wrong (Aah..) When the blanket’s down (Aah..) And the wheel’s gone round (Aah..) And I’m holding my last proof oo-oo-oo Like a beginner before the worst print ever I’ll be ripping up this one too Like a beginner before the worst print ever I’ll be ripping up this one too Well, I can see myself, tearing out my hair After Peeling back to find another dud And I’ve under-etched and I’ve over-wiped And tried fifty-seven different ways to ink up my plates But I still can't pull a good proof Every time I lift the blanket, damn! there's another mistake. Every time I lift the blanket, damn! yet another mistake. (Ooo..) And I’m down to the bottom of my 55981 (Ooo..) Torn my paper, every single last sheet is gone (Aah... )But I think somebody somewhere must have cast a spell Cause the last proof I pull is a thing Of beauty It’s a print of perfection, in every way It’s a hellava B.A.T. And I’m scraping the bottom of my 55981 Torn my paper, every single last sheet is gone (Ooo..) But I think somebody somewhere must have cast a spell Cause the last proof I pull is a thing Of beauty, of beauty It’s a print of perfection, in every way It’s a hellava B.A.T. Oh, it’s a hellava B.A.T. Oh, it’s a hellava B.A.T. Oh, like a B.A.T. out of hell (As a new day dawns I can finally print my run) Oh, like a B.A.T. out of hell (Only just begun, yeah I still gotta print my run) Oh, like a B.A.T. out of hell Ooo... Meatloaf & Jim Steinman, Bat Out of Hell, 1977 E Am C7
Sometimes, there’s a voice in your head Says you gotta get out, somewhere better instead It’s time to print, you’re just not able You need more space, you need more tables In a workshop in a mud brick town With gums and wallabies all around Roller on ink the only sound In a studio in a mud brick town Last stop on the Hurstbridge Line I’m heading out to Baldessin Last stop on the Hurstbridge Line I’m heading out to F. Bb C7 F Baldessin, oh Baldessin, F F7 Bb Gm7 I can hear Tess Edwards calling C7 F. Bb. Bb Am Gm Silvi sets the presses rolling C. Dm Get my printing done Here at Baldessin Saturday market, chattering voices So many chais so many choices Classic? Spice? Mug? Pot? Which one have you got? Have you had it, do you drink it If so, how often Which do you choose The cow or soy option? (The powder or tea?) Last stop on the Hurstbridge Line I’m heading out to Baldessin Last stop on the Hurstbridge Line I’m heading out to Baldessin, oh Baldessin, Got a workshop to be doing Silvi gets the coffee brewin’ Crank up the Albion Here at Baldessin Baldessin Aaaaa… Aaaaa… Aaaaa… Aaaaa… A. B. A. B And it’s always been my fantasy C#m B. A Win a fellowship from the State Library A B E Saving money with my own sheets B. A In a garret in the sun Here at D Eb E Baldessin Barbie Kjar is bringing it home Mokulito on wood not stone Photogravure’s Not just a fad Check out Lloyd’s bromilliads Holy Moses! A kangaroo! Drop my pizza from a Boy Named Sue (with double vegan cheese!) Last stop on the Hurstbridge Line I’m heading out to Baldessin Last stop on the Hurstbridge Line I’m heading out to Baldessin, oh Baldessin, Where I feel the Enjay sighing Where my latest prints are drying Dm C. Bb. Am. Gm Where the ghost of George still walks among the gums Gm A D At Baldessin At Baldessin Neil Tennant & Chris Lowe (Pet Shop Boys), West End Girls, 1986 Jimmy Webb (for Glen Campbell), Galveston, 1969 Etienne, Sophie, Julie & Jazmina, Ladies
Good to pull Good to pull Ooh, Bon à Tirer, Bon à Tirer Ooh, Bon à Tirer, bo-Bon à Tirer Good to pull Want it like this Good to pull Get it like this Ow! Rollin'! Press Gangster here P, P, P, P P Press Gangster here P-P-P-P, P Press Gangster here Press Gangster, Press Gangster, Press Gangster here Press Gang-sters Press Gangster here Now, now, now, wait a minute y'all This ain't no place for premature editions Only the good to go So all you print mothers, get your press into gear Yeah, good to pull Press Gangsters here, we’re stopping the press Don’t want no second best Sort out your etches and grooves, you gotta pass the test C’mon, we’re takin it slow till you show You’ve met the standards of the artist and you’re good to go Now proof it Bon à Tirer Yeah, B.A.T. Bon à Tirer French for good to pull Bon à Tirer lookin’ good Bon à Tirer It’s lookin’ real good Ow! Lookin’ good Ooh, Bon à Tirer, Bon à Tirer Ooh, Bon à Tirer, ba-Bon à Tirer Yo, yo, yo, yo, printing tech Yeah, you! Ease up on the resist If you aint feeling the French, there's RTP on the list It stands for Ready to Print, Still means that it’s looking good Now print it Cause it’s lookin’ good It's looking real good Get it like this Want it like this Print it like this Print it! Oi! Enough of all this proofin’ I’m good to go Let’s get those presses rolling Bon à Tirer Bon à Tirer Bon à Tirer Ba-Bon à Tirer Oi! Enough of all this proofin’ I’m good to go Get my edition flowin’ Bon à Tirer Bon à Tirer Bon à Tirer Ba-Bon à Tirer Ah P-P-P-Pull it, Pull it Pull it P-P-P-Pull it, Pull it Pull it Hurby Azor & Ray Davies (for Salt 'N' Pepa), Push it, 1987 Don’t know which way the cards will fall
Rolling up, in black Or wiping it back? Can’t figure out which way to go Relief prints or intaglio? Gamblin? Graphic Chemicals? Cranfield? Charbonelle? Speedball? Water-based or oil-based? Oil-based or water-based? Can’t figure out which way to go Multi-plate or monochrome? I can’t decide which end I prefer The scraper or the burnisher? Positive or negative? Negative or positive? Schminke? Caligo? Speedball? Derivan? Graphic Chemicals? Don’t know which way the cards will fall Rolling up, in black Or wiping it back? I can’t decide which end I prefer The scraper or the burnisher? Cranfield? Graphic Chemicals? Gamblin? Charbonelle? Speedball? Water-based or oil-based? Oil-based or water-based? The Breeders, Cannonball, 1993 *Concept by Martin King
Playin' cool Wanna rule, the Corridors of Art School Come the day I’ve found my way Down the corridors of Art School I fell in love on Open Day Mind-blowing displays The presses took my breath away Bright shiny Enjays The inks are calling. Must obey! Why stand in their way? Yeah, sign me up for my BA Got my tool Gonna roulette Corridors of Art School Rockin' plates this sunny day Down the corridors of Art School Which print elective? Cannot choose Don't know what to do So many presses yet to use Don't know what to choose I’m sorry, can’t come out to play Don't party 'till two Got four assignments due today Outa time and Low on fuel Corridors of Art School Anybody seen my etching tool? Down the corridors of Art School Can’t hit the town (Don’t hit the town) I'm on hard ground (You're on hard ground) Bum up, head down (Bum up, head down) ‘Nother essay Overdue Corridors of Art School Gone and lost my etching tool Down the corridors of Art School Playin' cool Wanna rule, the Corridors of Art School Makin’ waves in the talent pool Down the corridors of Art School Grant McLennan (Go Betweens), Streets of Your Town, 1988 Rocking, flick of the wrist yeah
Rocking, there isn't a trick yeah Rocking, won't happen by magic Baby You can never do enough of it Rocking, forwards and back, keep Bm rocking, for velvety blacks oh E Db Baby, I’ve just gotta keep a’rocking it F# B Don’t stop a’rocking it now Don’t stop the rocking, gotta keep a’rocking, don’t stop a’rocking now F# I have never been shy Dbm When it comes to intaglio Amb Thought I’d give it a try E Ebm D All day rocking from left to right E Ebm Db B Db Rocking diagonally overnight E Ebm Top to bottom through a new sun rise Dbm B A B Then start again, start again, start again Oh Baby Rocking, in every direction Rocking, cross every section ‘Till I, get zero reflection Then I I get to do it all again Rocking, all night and all day now Rocking, in every which way God damn it, still only prints grey When will I Get to start burnishing? Wanna start burnishing now Don’t stop the rocking Just gotta keep a’rocking Never stop a’rocking, now I really wanted to see A glorious chiaroscuro But it wasn’t to be I got tennis elbow and I’m going blind Pins and needles down my left side Scoliosis and RSI At twenty-five, twenty-five, twenty-five Oh Baby Maybe, this wasn’t so clever Feels like, I’ve been rocking for ever Now I, wish that I’d never Started Oh I should have aquatinted it Stuff this, I’m calling it quits I’ve had it, and I can’t feel my wrists From rocking, whose idea was this? Oh baby, I blame Graeme Peebles I blame Graeme Peebles Rocking, wish I knew the trick of Rocking, it's really the pits yeah Rocking, it’s mezzotint madness Baby And I blame Graeme Peebles I blame Graeme Peebles I do So sick of rocking, Had enough of rocking I never wanna rock again Björn Ulvaeus & Benny Anderson, Rock Me, 1974 Ah, wash out!
Release, the grease Wash out! Ah, wash out! Release, the grease Wash out! We’re here to get down with planography Been around since the eighteenth century In the Kingdom of Bavaria Lived Alois Senefelder Outta paper, so he wrote it on a stone And voila! Lithography was born Hydrophobic! Yeah hydrophilic too Immiscibility is gonna rule! Ah, wash out! Release, the grease Wash out! Got my stone, gonna grind it down Levigator, spinning all around I’ll level it, with 80 grit Time to get intimate with the graining sink Feel the pressure, testing for a wedge Eliminating hollows, filing down the edge Waxy crayon! Look out oily tousche Grab the gum arabic, I’m cutting loose! Ah, wash out! Release, the grease Wash out! Release! Yeah, release! The grease! Oil and water were never meant to mix Hope the theory holds or else I’m in a fix Three Hail Marys! Can you feel the fear? Washed my image out. Oh God, please reappear! Lube up the tympan, lower down the bar Got my sponge, got my nitric in a jar Ease the pressure! Don’t want my stone to crack Done my second etch. No turning back! Ah, wash out! Release, the grease Wash out! Ah, wash out! Release, the grease Wash out! Chic, Le freak, 1978 |
Press Gang LyricsThe current versions of Press Gang songs Archives
September 2024
Categories |
RSS Feed