ROCK / Lyric Sheets: White-label Christmas: Carols for a rock'n'roll Yule
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Your support makes all the difference.THE 12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my record company
Sent . . .
Twelve drummers filling
Eleven ravers chilling
Ten lawyers ligging
Nine roadies rigging
Eight agents phoning
Seven sponsors moaning
Six compliment'ries
Five go-ld discs
Four call girls
Three yes men
Two purple drugs
And some garbage about my CD
AWAY WITH A MAJOR
Away with a major
No gig for his cred
Disgruntled George Michael
Lays on his neat bed
The stars on his Hi-Fi
Play on MiniDisc
A court case now looming
With millions at risk
HARK THE HERALD AGENTS SING
Hark the herald agents sing
Glory to the Next Big Thing
Slot it in for Friday's Word
Bands of whom you've never heard
Catapulted out of limbo
Terry Christian and some bimbo
Serve to make you glad you stayed
Nicely out of fashion's way
Hark the herald agents sing
Next year's Elvis comes from Tring
Christ, by highest heav'n I'm bored
And, besides, I can't afford
In recession to keep buying
All these things 'the kidz' are trying
Bands the NME espouses
Let alone their stupid trousers
Drinks and drugs with silly names
And of course those video games
Hark the Herald Agents Sing
This year's Seal is next year's Bing
HIP KING WENCESLAS
Hip King Wenceslas looked mean
Temper far from even
'Bloody Cliff and bloody Queen
Bloody Shakin' Stevens
Same old brain rot every Yule
Saturation airplay
Interspersed with DJ drool
Only thing they dare play.
'Hither Page let's both get monged
Rip this joint and cruise now
Maybe catch some indy band
Gazing at their shoes now.'
In the end they found a place
Though the time was draggin'
Doormen knew the Page's face
So they got to blag in
Raddled band with loud guitars
Slightly rasping vocals
'Hey, these blokes could end up stars
Tell me - are they locals?'
'No sire, I'm afraid they're not
Though the club is pokey
This band is Keith Richards' lot
Keeping matters low-key.'
SACK THE FALL
Sack the Fall and PiL, by golly
Fa-la-la-la-lah, la-lah lah lah
Time for record comp'ny folly
Fa-la-la-la-lah, la-lah lah lah
All the joy that Yule can foster
Fa-la-lah, fa-la-lah, lah lah lah
Trim the deadwood from the roster
Fa la-la-la-lah, la-lah lah lah
WHILE ROCKERS SCHLEP THEIR STOCKS ALL NIGHT
While rockers watched their step all night
And rumour did abound
An A&R man came backstage
And liked what he had found
'Fear not,' said he, 'I've done my sums
I am your biggest fan
With certain changes here and there
We'll break you in Japan
'I love the raw guitars and beat
A basic, honest sound
I'll call a good producer in
And change it all around
'With horns and strings and sampled drums
A change of clothes and hair
Some girlie vocals, different name
I'll have you almost there.'
Thus spake the prat and in 12 months
A turkey had been born
And what had been a decent band
Was now held up in scorn.
All glory be to A&R
And to the drug cocaine
Which makes the average seem divine
And keeps pop songs inane.
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