Post by JamesPaul & Brian on Feb 17, 2010 22:25:01 GMT
The Plastic Cloud
therisingstorm.net/the-plastic-cloud-the-plastic-cloud/
lyrics:
Epistle to Paradise
Tell me everything you know
and what to say
And tell me when to go
and when to stay
I never knew the reasons why you
would want to trade my mind
For an Epistle to Paradise.
Paradise
Ignore the simple life
There's more to attain
Abandon cardboard strife
and Acid rain.
Tomorrow is a new day for learning
what you should pray for
Like an Epistle to Paradise
Paradise.
Rabbits made from sugar cane
and birds of clay
You could be twice as high
as you are today
The airplane you must ride is old
and you'll find it's rather cold
For an Epistle to Paradise.
Paradise
When the sky's beneath your toes
and you glance down
To see the iron clothes
with feather gowns
Maybe this will make you yearn
For you know you can't return
To an Epistle to Paradise.
Paradise
Shadows of your Mind
Every morning and afternoon
when they gypsy sailors ride
No one can tell you
what it's like inside
Standing by a parking meter
having someone's Grade 2 Reader
And you know you've got to find it
Deep in the Shadows of your Mind
And the Mormon Tabernacle Choir
sings every day
But they never tell you
what you ought to say
Playing with a paper Santa Claus
never knowing where it was
They're just people who are kind
Sleeping in the Shadows of your Mind.
And the stars come out but you're
not there. What do you see?
And you want to tell me
it's a mystery?
And the road is climbing down,
everybody's on the ground
Better find a place to hide
Deep in the Shadows of your Mind.
When the scarlet shadows come
and you can't feel afraid
And you start to wonder
if you should have stayed
And the rolling hills of doom come
to offer you a room
And you know you've got to find
Sleeping in the Shadows of your Mind
Shadows of your minds
Yes they're just Shadows
of your Mind
Shadows of your Mind
Oh they're just Shadows
of your Mind.
Art's a Happy Man
Art's a Happy Man
And he likes the birds and bees
Art's a Happy Man
Saying "Smile, if you please".
Doesn't it seem wrong to pretend
Trying to prevent rain
that never ends?
Art's a Happy Man
With his cameras all the time
Art's a Happy Man
And the world treats him fine
And though everybody
knows his name
Everybody likes him just the same.
Art's a Happy Man
With his family by his side
Art's a Happy Man
With his pictures as his pride
Waiting for the people to arrive
Packing up his snapshots,
home by five
Art's a Happy Man
As he sips a glass of wine
Art's a Happy Man
Knowing everything is fine
And the sunshine
greets him every day
With a smile that drives
the clouds away
Art's a Happy Man
You Don't Care
I know everybody's name
in the Hollow
If their faces are the same,
I'll sell tomorrow
And what would your
Father say to you
If you told him everything was new?
Would he run away?
You don't care for the Morning
You don't care for the summer rain
You don't care if the
Moon comes down
If nobody's found
Today
And it's all over
And the ecstasy of Eve
on my shoulder
Before the Emerald night is seen
you'll be older
And what would your Mother
say to you
If she knew those rumors
all were true
Would she run away?
You don't care for the Morning
You don't care for the summer rain
You don't care if the
Moon comes down
If nobody's found
Today
And it's all over
When the Scarlet Tide is gone
And you know it
Everybody sings along
And you show it
And what would your Brother
say to you
If you told him
everything was Blue?
Would he run away?
You don't care for the Morning
You don't care for the summer rain
You don't care if the
Moon comes down
If nobody's found
Today
And it's all over
And the Plastic glass of wine
in the sky
Tells you that you sing big time,
Baby mine
And what would your Brother
say to you
If you told him
everything was Blue?
Would he run away?
You don't care for the Morning
You don't care for the summer rain
You don't care if the
Moon comes down
If nobody's found
Today
And it's all over
Now you know its almost time
to be running
And you know if you were mine
There'd be funning
And what would your Father
say to you
If he knew thaqt you
were sniffing glue?
Would he run away?
You don't care for the Morning
You don't care for the summer rain
You don't care if the
Moon comes down
If nobody's found
Today
And it's all over
Everyday you feel the same
and you know its true
If you want to play the game,
I won't play with you
And the Hunchback of Notre Dame
smiling as he falls
And you know Tarzan of the City
never learned his calls
And you know that war is everything
but it's not fine
If we're going to live together,
you've got to stand in line.
You've got to stand in line
You've got to stand in line
You've got to stand in line
You've got to stand in line
Oh, everybody stands in line
everybody stands in line
everybody stands in line
Oh listen to me
Oh listen to me Everybody
Everybody.
Bridge Under The Sky
Everybody knows that there's a Sun
People who get there
are having fun;
But I see you sitting as you try
to live a lie.
Tell me why!
When everybody knows,
everybody says
Every one's been told
you might as well be dead
Without a Bridge Under the Sky
People who are evil fade away
And all those who worry cannot stay
But I see you standing
and I know you're gonna cry
Tell me why!
When everybody knows,
everybody says
Every one's been told you
might as well be dead
Without a Bridge Under the Sky
Take me on to all the galaxies
Buy an asteroid just when we please
But I see you running
and a tear falls from your eye
Tell me why!
When everybody knows,
everybody says
Every one's been told you
might as well be dead
Without a Bridge Under the Sky
I can feel the party going on
As I turn to look I see you're gone
But I see you smiling
as I watch you floating by
You can fly!
And everybody knows,
everybody says
Every one's been told you
might as well be dead
Without a Bridge Under the Sky
Face Behind the Sun
Time and time again
you walked my way
And though you never know
exactly what to say
There's a face behind the Sun
that everybody knows
There's a face behind the Sun
but no one ever goes.
And it's not only angel wings
that you must see
And thought our world is fast
becoming a mystery
There's a face behind the Sun
that everybody knows
There's a face behind the Sun
but no one ever goes.
The Axioms of Kristenbrun
and Valasko's mind
But little Hugh Gibney's leaving
them both behind
He's got a face behind the Sun
that everybody knows
There's a face behind the Sun
but no one every goes.
A race is never there is
you cannot blow
And though you still can wonder
exactly how much I really know
There's a face behind the Sun
that everybody knows
There's a face behind the Sun
but no one ever goes.
Dainty General Rides
There's a man behind a desk
who's never seen the sun
But He don't care cuz while he's
there, every new war's fun
But everybody dont' feel sad
If you lose your friends be glad
That Uncle Sam's your Dad and
You cannot be afraid
of his gold braid
When the Dainty General rides.
If you ever see the purple tree
that stands outside his door
He waters it twice and says "That's
nice" and then he plans a war
But everybody thinks it's fine
So they all stand in line
He keeps them down in a mine
Where you cannot be afraid
of his gold braid
When the Dainty General rides.
Every day, Mothers say,
"Must my children fight?"
But they can't sleep cause in the deep
someone will die tonight
And everybody owns a gun
They think that might is fun
You're not the only one
And you cannot be afraid
of his gold braid
When the Dainty General rides.
When the day we hope to pray
someday he'll retire
But he'll just dream of the power scene
when everything's on fire
With his bits of buildings on the ground
He'll never hear a sound
He'll be the only one around
And you cannot be afraid
of his gold braid
When the Dainty General rides.
No, You cannot be afraid
of his gold braid
When the Dainty General rides.
Civilization Machine
Once you've got your number
everything will be new
When I want to send you home
they'll know just what to do
You can have everything you want
don't have to pay
When I tell you how to think
you'll naturally obey
Then your problems will be mine
When you trade your mind to ME
To the Civilization Machine,
the finest you've ever seen
I'll let you keep me clean
If you've got the time
Civilization Machine
The finest you've ever seen
And I'll let you keep me clean
If you've got the time
And you know the morning rain
never falls
Until you've learned that
everybody's every All
And the time to think is here
you've got see
We are all living in
a transistor society
But Then your problem be mine
When you trade your mind to ME
To the Civilization Machine,
the finest you've ever seen
I'll let you keep me clean
If you've got the time
Civilization Machine
The finest you've ever seen
And I'll let you keep me clean
If you've got the time
Everyday you feel the same
and drive downtown
And never think of all those
people on the ground
In the fireplace of time
there burns a tree
And everybody thinks that
everyone's like me
But Then your problem
will be mine
If you trade your mind to ME
To the Civilization Machine,
the finest you've ever seen
I'll let you keep me clean
If you've got the time
Civilization Machine
The finest you've ever seen
And I'll let you keep me clean
If you've got the time
And the time is almost gone.
We'll have to try
And figure out a way
we can sell you the sky
And the Cloud is on the train,
on the train
And we all have to own
an electrical brain
And then your problem
will be mine
When you trade your mind to ME
To the Civilization Machine, the
finest you've ever seen
I'll let you keep me clean
If you've got the time
Civilization Machine
The finest you've ever seen
And I'll let you keep me clean now,
if you've got the time
Civilization Machine
Finest you've ever seen
I'll let you keep me clean
Civilization Machine
Civilization Machine
Civilization Machine...........
Mother Hubbard lost her dog...
Civilization Machine
Found him underneath a log...
Civilization Machine
And you know it's time instead...
Civilization Machine
To come for you when you're dead...
Civilization Machine
Civilization
A new Generation
With all your education
Will ruin the nation
Words and Music by Don Brewer
Copyright Two Brothers Music
BMI (Canada)
Mike Cadieux - guitar
Don Brewer - guitar, vocals
Brian Madill - bass
Randy Umphrey - drums
The Plastic Cloud
There aroseth in the Thoggdom, a Grand Thogg, large in lempt, but small in statue (whose initials were Brian Madill). His life lacketh little of thunds and lesmads but sore waseth his heart for the great void of musek in the Thoggdom. Thus, one fair drep in the third month (being Andirp), the Grand Thogg decreethed that all musketiles, (such as there were in the Thoggdom) should hold counsel with him, for it was known that counsel was very stobong. The gornot was held in order to requtifie the belniport of musek in the Thoggdom. So it was decreethed, so it was done.
In the dreps following the Thoggial declaration, millions of aspirant thrumbles flocked to the greep of the Grand Thogg. Among them strode a blond tundill, immense in size and appetite for all good sidems in the Thoggdom. He was known to the thrumbles as Regsreb Snagglegeeze, but in reality his secret identity was Randy Umphrey. Such was his great jomkis on the tundills that the Grand Thogg adornethed him in bright orange wasslerabs and multi-colored famnids which flappethed profusely in the wind. The Grand Thogg decreethed that the tundill, from that drep fifth, would be the Vice Thrumm of the Thoggdom. So it was decreethed, so it was done.
The Grand Thogg and the Vice Thrumm conversethed hepnolts now to be kinlerred. They were but fribs, high in kaner but low in volume. They deliberated two whole knoggs on the dilemma. One drep, they were informethed that in another surg of the Thoggdom jinned a forty-three fingered frownse who frambled a kaistre like no other thumble known. Together, the Grand Thogg and the Vice Thrumm journeyed alone (with two thousand thrumbles-at-arms) to the greep of the frownse. Most diligently they searchethed for nine knoggs until their ears were assaulted by-notes of the weirdest timbre. Feared, lest the gods by angry, they took refuge in a small bailk. Lo and beholdeth, they spied the forty-three fingered frownse laughing and wailing upon his aks. The Thogg was informethed that the frownse was called Pik Ell, but decreethed that his name be shortened to Michael Cadieux. So it was decreethed, so it was done.
After returning to the greep of the Grand Thogg, they still, howevery, could not cudrop an entire sound, nor did they have anything to framble. The bass of the Grand Thogg, the fuzz of the frownse, and the tundills of the Vice Thogg longed for unity (whoevereth he waseth). Upon the donaff arrivethed a five-eared phrofth who had composethed many new knurds and drikles. Frambling upon his twelve stringed kaistre, the phrofth (known to millions as pib, or more simply Don Brewer) waseth very loud. To gorm down his volume, the other three swiftly but gently smoothed, smitted kicked and bit him until his kaistre when frambled was barely herd. So it was decreethed, so it was done.
After many brilts of sreciping, the four journeyed to another landom where Jack Umpleby made recordings. Jack (a wise and illiterate man) put them on wax and even made kippets of their vorps. They were then fadinned for live morpots but they lacked a cadip. "Hence fifth", decreethed the Grand Thogg, "we shall be cadipped the PLASTIC CLOUD". So it was decreethed, so it was done.
Original Allied Records Release - with it's many typos and grammatical errors left intact for your pleasure!
NEWS NOTES
Allied Record Corporation
110 Barbados Boulevard, Scarboro, Ontario
THE
PLASTIC
CLOUD
The concept of a plastic cloud my seem somewhat paradoxical to scholars, bu to the younger generation it is a way of life. Plastic, a a production in itself, is a confining, all too real fragment of life. A cloud, as always, is the wall of imagination upon which many aspirants have hung their fondest wishes. Reality for the Phd. world is a hang-up. Locked inside a scientific world where imagination has only a price tag, they miss the creativity of a world were a flame can be anything.
Because of this, four of Canada's finest young musicians have surround themselves with the cloak of cloud imagination to form the PLASTIC CLOUD.
Brian Madill, 21, has a history of music that goes back over 11 years. When he joined the Cloud he latched onto a bass and tore his hands to pieces. Now, he can tear your mind into multi-colored, pulsating pieces of happiness. Quiet, but intense, Brian forms the nucleous of the group.
Randy Umphrey, 20, is a drummer. A very good one. He wouldn't have it any other way. Randy lives in Bay Ridges, Ontario, but it could be anywhere else, in any other time period or age, and he still would have been a drummer. He wouldn't have it any other way.
There is little one can say about Mike Cadieux, except brilliant. Mike's bag ranges from folk to acid (rock that is) and his ability to move from one to the other is striking. Mike's imagination knows no limits and when he plays he is in a world of his own. Beware, however. If you don't understand him, he'll blow your cool and send you to the sky.
Don Brewer, 22, is a composer. Don is in his last year of university (but that's his problem) and writes all the material for the group. He's not particularly wild about the world, but then who really can be. Don tries, through his music, to tell it like it is, or like it should be. His bag of musical tricks is only half full, but it's a big bag and he tries to live the part of his hero, Santa Claus. Watch for him at christmas. His nose may be a little red, but he may ho ho ho ou to death.
EPISTLE TO PARADISE is a very deceptive song. It makes you feel very secure if you don't understand it, and a little wary if you do. The cloud is telling you that you can live any way you want to, but don't try to "trade their minds" for your particular way of life. You're epistle to happiness may just not be theirs.
DAINTY GENERAL RIDES is an obvious anti-war song but with a new twist. The general really likes his war, not because it gives him a job to do, but it is the only way he can get his jollies. His strange love for his "purple tree" combined with his "dreaming of a power scene" gives you some insight into war. It really isn't nice.
FACE BEHIND THE SUN is an illusion to the faith of the religious. They may not understand it, but they like what they have. Maybe they are right. Maybe there is a face behind the sun "that everybody knows...but no one ever goes". The axioms of Kristenbrun just may have more to them too. Decide for yourself.
ART'S A HAPPY MAN is a fun song, a pseudo-Robin Hood ballad. It was written for a Toronto photographer, who must remain un-named, who took the first group pictures of the Cloud. Art is weird. He looks like a cossack warrior, but behind his gray eyes lurks one of the funniest minds in Canada.
BRIDGE UNDER THE SKY is an inquiry, a quest for a better place for everyone to live, a "sun" if you want. You need only listen to the final verse of the song to dig the group's message. "you might as well be dead without a bridge under the sky".
SHADOWS OF YOUR MIND satirizes the pseudo-reality. Everyone, even the group, sees the way it's supposed to be, but too many live it couldn't be. The fantasy world of business with the middle class ideology permeating everything, had better take another look at itself. Sooner or later, someone may find it's just a "shadow of your mind".
YOU DON'T CARE seems simple enough to understand, even from the title, but it takes almost eleven minutes to tell you why. Every aspect of society is examined; none escape lily-white. Perhaps if you see it all, maybe you do "care for the morning...the summer rain" and all the other simplicities of life. The cloud sees over-organization as a mind crime. Maybe a few arrests can be made.
CIVILIZATION MACHINE is a brilliant attempt to give the side and story of the computer and society from inside the computer. If the machines really can do everything, maybe we should "trade our minds" to it. The constant, often repetitious referral to the machine appears almost mechanized itself, and one tends to get lulled, may even hypnotized by it. The ending, however, tells the true story of the Civilization Machine, and its prospects for the future.
THE PLASTIC CLOUD was produced by Jack Boswell and Bill Bessey who are both "over thirty, and therefore obsolete".
therisingstorm.net/the-plastic-cloud-the-plastic-cloud/
lyrics:
Epistle to Paradise
Tell me everything you know
and what to say
And tell me when to go
and when to stay
I never knew the reasons why you
would want to trade my mind
For an Epistle to Paradise.
Paradise
Ignore the simple life
There's more to attain
Abandon cardboard strife
and Acid rain.
Tomorrow is a new day for learning
what you should pray for
Like an Epistle to Paradise
Paradise.
Rabbits made from sugar cane
and birds of clay
You could be twice as high
as you are today
The airplane you must ride is old
and you'll find it's rather cold
For an Epistle to Paradise.
Paradise
When the sky's beneath your toes
and you glance down
To see the iron clothes
with feather gowns
Maybe this will make you yearn
For you know you can't return
To an Epistle to Paradise.
Paradise
Shadows of your Mind
Every morning and afternoon
when they gypsy sailors ride
No one can tell you
what it's like inside
Standing by a parking meter
having someone's Grade 2 Reader
And you know you've got to find it
Deep in the Shadows of your Mind
And the Mormon Tabernacle Choir
sings every day
But they never tell you
what you ought to say
Playing with a paper Santa Claus
never knowing where it was
They're just people who are kind
Sleeping in the Shadows of your Mind.
And the stars come out but you're
not there. What do you see?
And you want to tell me
it's a mystery?
And the road is climbing down,
everybody's on the ground
Better find a place to hide
Deep in the Shadows of your Mind.
When the scarlet shadows come
and you can't feel afraid
And you start to wonder
if you should have stayed
And the rolling hills of doom come
to offer you a room
And you know you've got to find
Sleeping in the Shadows of your Mind
Shadows of your minds
Yes they're just Shadows
of your Mind
Shadows of your Mind
Oh they're just Shadows
of your Mind.
Art's a Happy Man
Art's a Happy Man
And he likes the birds and bees
Art's a Happy Man
Saying "Smile, if you please".
Doesn't it seem wrong to pretend
Trying to prevent rain
that never ends?
Art's a Happy Man
With his cameras all the time
Art's a Happy Man
And the world treats him fine
And though everybody
knows his name
Everybody likes him just the same.
Art's a Happy Man
With his family by his side
Art's a Happy Man
With his pictures as his pride
Waiting for the people to arrive
Packing up his snapshots,
home by five
Art's a Happy Man
As he sips a glass of wine
Art's a Happy Man
Knowing everything is fine
And the sunshine
greets him every day
With a smile that drives
the clouds away
Art's a Happy Man
You Don't Care
I know everybody's name
in the Hollow
If their faces are the same,
I'll sell tomorrow
And what would your
Father say to you
If you told him everything was new?
Would he run away?
You don't care for the Morning
You don't care for the summer rain
You don't care if the
Moon comes down
If nobody's found
Today
And it's all over
And the ecstasy of Eve
on my shoulder
Before the Emerald night is seen
you'll be older
And what would your Mother
say to you
If she knew those rumors
all were true
Would she run away?
You don't care for the Morning
You don't care for the summer rain
You don't care if the
Moon comes down
If nobody's found
Today
And it's all over
When the Scarlet Tide is gone
And you know it
Everybody sings along
And you show it
And what would your Brother
say to you
If you told him
everything was Blue?
Would he run away?
You don't care for the Morning
You don't care for the summer rain
You don't care if the
Moon comes down
If nobody's found
Today
And it's all over
And the Plastic glass of wine
in the sky
Tells you that you sing big time,
Baby mine
And what would your Brother
say to you
If you told him
everything was Blue?
Would he run away?
You don't care for the Morning
You don't care for the summer rain
You don't care if the
Moon comes down
If nobody's found
Today
And it's all over
Now you know its almost time
to be running
And you know if you were mine
There'd be funning
And what would your Father
say to you
If he knew thaqt you
were sniffing glue?
Would he run away?
You don't care for the Morning
You don't care for the summer rain
You don't care if the
Moon comes down
If nobody's found
Today
And it's all over
Everyday you feel the same
and you know its true
If you want to play the game,
I won't play with you
And the Hunchback of Notre Dame
smiling as he falls
And you know Tarzan of the City
never learned his calls
And you know that war is everything
but it's not fine
If we're going to live together,
you've got to stand in line.
You've got to stand in line
You've got to stand in line
You've got to stand in line
You've got to stand in line
Oh, everybody stands in line
everybody stands in line
everybody stands in line
Oh listen to me
Oh listen to me Everybody
Everybody.
Bridge Under The Sky
Everybody knows that there's a Sun
People who get there
are having fun;
But I see you sitting as you try
to live a lie.
Tell me why!
When everybody knows,
everybody says
Every one's been told
you might as well be dead
Without a Bridge Under the Sky
People who are evil fade away
And all those who worry cannot stay
But I see you standing
and I know you're gonna cry
Tell me why!
When everybody knows,
everybody says
Every one's been told you
might as well be dead
Without a Bridge Under the Sky
Take me on to all the galaxies
Buy an asteroid just when we please
But I see you running
and a tear falls from your eye
Tell me why!
When everybody knows,
everybody says
Every one's been told you
might as well be dead
Without a Bridge Under the Sky
I can feel the party going on
As I turn to look I see you're gone
But I see you smiling
as I watch you floating by
You can fly!
And everybody knows,
everybody says
Every one's been told you
might as well be dead
Without a Bridge Under the Sky
Face Behind the Sun
Time and time again
you walked my way
And though you never know
exactly what to say
There's a face behind the Sun
that everybody knows
There's a face behind the Sun
but no one ever goes.
And it's not only angel wings
that you must see
And thought our world is fast
becoming a mystery
There's a face behind the Sun
that everybody knows
There's a face behind the Sun
but no one ever goes.
The Axioms of Kristenbrun
and Valasko's mind
But little Hugh Gibney's leaving
them both behind
He's got a face behind the Sun
that everybody knows
There's a face behind the Sun
but no one every goes.
A race is never there is
you cannot blow
And though you still can wonder
exactly how much I really know
There's a face behind the Sun
that everybody knows
There's a face behind the Sun
but no one ever goes.
Dainty General Rides
There's a man behind a desk
who's never seen the sun
But He don't care cuz while he's
there, every new war's fun
But everybody dont' feel sad
If you lose your friends be glad
That Uncle Sam's your Dad and
You cannot be afraid
of his gold braid
When the Dainty General rides.
If you ever see the purple tree
that stands outside his door
He waters it twice and says "That's
nice" and then he plans a war
But everybody thinks it's fine
So they all stand in line
He keeps them down in a mine
Where you cannot be afraid
of his gold braid
When the Dainty General rides.
Every day, Mothers say,
"Must my children fight?"
But they can't sleep cause in the deep
someone will die tonight
And everybody owns a gun
They think that might is fun
You're not the only one
And you cannot be afraid
of his gold braid
When the Dainty General rides.
When the day we hope to pray
someday he'll retire
But he'll just dream of the power scene
when everything's on fire
With his bits of buildings on the ground
He'll never hear a sound
He'll be the only one around
And you cannot be afraid
of his gold braid
When the Dainty General rides.
No, You cannot be afraid
of his gold braid
When the Dainty General rides.
Civilization Machine
Once you've got your number
everything will be new
When I want to send you home
they'll know just what to do
You can have everything you want
don't have to pay
When I tell you how to think
you'll naturally obey
Then your problems will be mine
When you trade your mind to ME
To the Civilization Machine,
the finest you've ever seen
I'll let you keep me clean
If you've got the time
Civilization Machine
The finest you've ever seen
And I'll let you keep me clean
If you've got the time
And you know the morning rain
never falls
Until you've learned that
everybody's every All
And the time to think is here
you've got see
We are all living in
a transistor society
But Then your problem be mine
When you trade your mind to ME
To the Civilization Machine,
the finest you've ever seen
I'll let you keep me clean
If you've got the time
Civilization Machine
The finest you've ever seen
And I'll let you keep me clean
If you've got the time
Everyday you feel the same
and drive downtown
And never think of all those
people on the ground
In the fireplace of time
there burns a tree
And everybody thinks that
everyone's like me
But Then your problem
will be mine
If you trade your mind to ME
To the Civilization Machine,
the finest you've ever seen
I'll let you keep me clean
If you've got the time
Civilization Machine
The finest you've ever seen
And I'll let you keep me clean
If you've got the time
And the time is almost gone.
We'll have to try
And figure out a way
we can sell you the sky
And the Cloud is on the train,
on the train
And we all have to own
an electrical brain
And then your problem
will be mine
When you trade your mind to ME
To the Civilization Machine, the
finest you've ever seen
I'll let you keep me clean
If you've got the time
Civilization Machine
The finest you've ever seen
And I'll let you keep me clean now,
if you've got the time
Civilization Machine
Finest you've ever seen
I'll let you keep me clean
Civilization Machine
Civilization Machine
Civilization Machine...........
Mother Hubbard lost her dog...
Civilization Machine
Found him underneath a log...
Civilization Machine
And you know it's time instead...
Civilization Machine
To come for you when you're dead...
Civilization Machine
Civilization
A new Generation
With all your education
Will ruin the nation
Words and Music by Don Brewer
Copyright Two Brothers Music
BMI (Canada)
Mike Cadieux - guitar
Don Brewer - guitar, vocals
Brian Madill - bass
Randy Umphrey - drums
The Plastic Cloud
There aroseth in the Thoggdom, a Grand Thogg, large in lempt, but small in statue (whose initials were Brian Madill). His life lacketh little of thunds and lesmads but sore waseth his heart for the great void of musek in the Thoggdom. Thus, one fair drep in the third month (being Andirp), the Grand Thogg decreethed that all musketiles, (such as there were in the Thoggdom) should hold counsel with him, for it was known that counsel was very stobong. The gornot was held in order to requtifie the belniport of musek in the Thoggdom. So it was decreethed, so it was done.
In the dreps following the Thoggial declaration, millions of aspirant thrumbles flocked to the greep of the Grand Thogg. Among them strode a blond tundill, immense in size and appetite for all good sidems in the Thoggdom. He was known to the thrumbles as Regsreb Snagglegeeze, but in reality his secret identity was Randy Umphrey. Such was his great jomkis on the tundills that the Grand Thogg adornethed him in bright orange wasslerabs and multi-colored famnids which flappethed profusely in the wind. The Grand Thogg decreethed that the tundill, from that drep fifth, would be the Vice Thrumm of the Thoggdom. So it was decreethed, so it was done.
The Grand Thogg and the Vice Thrumm conversethed hepnolts now to be kinlerred. They were but fribs, high in kaner but low in volume. They deliberated two whole knoggs on the dilemma. One drep, they were informethed that in another surg of the Thoggdom jinned a forty-three fingered frownse who frambled a kaistre like no other thumble known. Together, the Grand Thogg and the Vice Thrumm journeyed alone (with two thousand thrumbles-at-arms) to the greep of the frownse. Most diligently they searchethed for nine knoggs until their ears were assaulted by-notes of the weirdest timbre. Feared, lest the gods by angry, they took refuge in a small bailk. Lo and beholdeth, they spied the forty-three fingered frownse laughing and wailing upon his aks. The Thogg was informethed that the frownse was called Pik Ell, but decreethed that his name be shortened to Michael Cadieux. So it was decreethed, so it was done.
After returning to the greep of the Grand Thogg, they still, howevery, could not cudrop an entire sound, nor did they have anything to framble. The bass of the Grand Thogg, the fuzz of the frownse, and the tundills of the Vice Thogg longed for unity (whoevereth he waseth). Upon the donaff arrivethed a five-eared phrofth who had composethed many new knurds and drikles. Frambling upon his twelve stringed kaistre, the phrofth (known to millions as pib, or more simply Don Brewer) waseth very loud. To gorm down his volume, the other three swiftly but gently smoothed, smitted kicked and bit him until his kaistre when frambled was barely herd. So it was decreethed, so it was done.
After many brilts of sreciping, the four journeyed to another landom where Jack Umpleby made recordings. Jack (a wise and illiterate man) put them on wax and even made kippets of their vorps. They were then fadinned for live morpots but they lacked a cadip. "Hence fifth", decreethed the Grand Thogg, "we shall be cadipped the PLASTIC CLOUD". So it was decreethed, so it was done.
Original Allied Records Release - with it's many typos and grammatical errors left intact for your pleasure!
NEWS NOTES
Allied Record Corporation
110 Barbados Boulevard, Scarboro, Ontario
THE
PLASTIC
CLOUD
The concept of a plastic cloud my seem somewhat paradoxical to scholars, bu to the younger generation it is a way of life. Plastic, a a production in itself, is a confining, all too real fragment of life. A cloud, as always, is the wall of imagination upon which many aspirants have hung their fondest wishes. Reality for the Phd. world is a hang-up. Locked inside a scientific world where imagination has only a price tag, they miss the creativity of a world were a flame can be anything.
Because of this, four of Canada's finest young musicians have surround themselves with the cloak of cloud imagination to form the PLASTIC CLOUD.
Brian Madill, 21, has a history of music that goes back over 11 years. When he joined the Cloud he latched onto a bass and tore his hands to pieces. Now, he can tear your mind into multi-colored, pulsating pieces of happiness. Quiet, but intense, Brian forms the nucleous of the group.
Randy Umphrey, 20, is a drummer. A very good one. He wouldn't have it any other way. Randy lives in Bay Ridges, Ontario, but it could be anywhere else, in any other time period or age, and he still would have been a drummer. He wouldn't have it any other way.
There is little one can say about Mike Cadieux, except brilliant. Mike's bag ranges from folk to acid (rock that is) and his ability to move from one to the other is striking. Mike's imagination knows no limits and when he plays he is in a world of his own. Beware, however. If you don't understand him, he'll blow your cool and send you to the sky.
Don Brewer, 22, is a composer. Don is in his last year of university (but that's his problem) and writes all the material for the group. He's not particularly wild about the world, but then who really can be. Don tries, through his music, to tell it like it is, or like it should be. His bag of musical tricks is only half full, but it's a big bag and he tries to live the part of his hero, Santa Claus. Watch for him at christmas. His nose may be a little red, but he may ho ho ho ou to death.
EPISTLE TO PARADISE is a very deceptive song. It makes you feel very secure if you don't understand it, and a little wary if you do. The cloud is telling you that you can live any way you want to, but don't try to "trade their minds" for your particular way of life. You're epistle to happiness may just not be theirs.
DAINTY GENERAL RIDES is an obvious anti-war song but with a new twist. The general really likes his war, not because it gives him a job to do, but it is the only way he can get his jollies. His strange love for his "purple tree" combined with his "dreaming of a power scene" gives you some insight into war. It really isn't nice.
FACE BEHIND THE SUN is an illusion to the faith of the religious. They may not understand it, but they like what they have. Maybe they are right. Maybe there is a face behind the sun "that everybody knows...but no one ever goes". The axioms of Kristenbrun just may have more to them too. Decide for yourself.
ART'S A HAPPY MAN is a fun song, a pseudo-Robin Hood ballad. It was written for a Toronto photographer, who must remain un-named, who took the first group pictures of the Cloud. Art is weird. He looks like a cossack warrior, but behind his gray eyes lurks one of the funniest minds in Canada.
BRIDGE UNDER THE SKY is an inquiry, a quest for a better place for everyone to live, a "sun" if you want. You need only listen to the final verse of the song to dig the group's message. "you might as well be dead without a bridge under the sky".
SHADOWS OF YOUR MIND satirizes the pseudo-reality. Everyone, even the group, sees the way it's supposed to be, but too many live it couldn't be. The fantasy world of business with the middle class ideology permeating everything, had better take another look at itself. Sooner or later, someone may find it's just a "shadow of your mind".
YOU DON'T CARE seems simple enough to understand, even from the title, but it takes almost eleven minutes to tell you why. Every aspect of society is examined; none escape lily-white. Perhaps if you see it all, maybe you do "care for the morning...the summer rain" and all the other simplicities of life. The cloud sees over-organization as a mind crime. Maybe a few arrests can be made.
CIVILIZATION MACHINE is a brilliant attempt to give the side and story of the computer and society from inside the computer. If the machines really can do everything, maybe we should "trade our minds" to it. The constant, often repetitious referral to the machine appears almost mechanized itself, and one tends to get lulled, may even hypnotized by it. The ending, however, tells the true story of the Civilization Machine, and its prospects for the future.
THE PLASTIC CLOUD was produced by Jack Boswell and Bill Bessey who are both "over thirty, and therefore obsolete".