Good Camel Committee re-conclusion. A ditty about the political situation in Laos. Firstly titled Vientiane Blues but that was a little obscure.
prog
flute
cello
psychedelic
banjo
political
mandolin
sax
rock folk
pygmy beat
Story behind the song
1st came the riff, (& those bizzare harmonics), then the politics. The vocals were recorded, as so many are, in a tiled bathroom.
The basic tracks were recorded in a couple of sessions by Terry & ray. The 'cellos were added some time later by ray & Miriam, (you may need h/phones to hear them properly). Roland was at his most primitive/pygmyesque beat wise.
Nb. The smile in Terry's voice post solo is because someone wanted to use the loo.
Lyrics
Now Livin' in the crossfire is sometimes short on joy,
When there's trouble in the jungle & they're giving guns to boys,
The planes just dropping packages near mountain village huts,
& men sent out to look come home pine box short cuts.
The sovereignty of the kingdom's never sacrosanct at best,
It's hardly worth a mention when the region's in a mess.
When your next door neighbour's fighting,
Try to keep your own nose clean,
& clamp down on the peasants,
Need spare parts for the machine.
& it ain't getting no better
& the prince don't like the news,
That his subjects in the mountains,
Have got the revolution blues. Ah ha.
The lowland & the mountain men,
Just don't see eye to eye,
Great medium for cadres,
Just strike a match & watch sparks fly,
Let's swim across the river,
Find a place that's safe to hide,
l'ancien regime & look for helpful ties,
You see a girl who has no feet,
A child who's lost both arms,
& someone's mother copped it sweet playing cards,
Find your local friendly Hilton,
& relax behind barbed wire,
You won't find any work 'round here,
There's no need to retire.
& It ain't getting no better
& the prince don't like the news,
That his subjects in the mountains,
Have got the revolution blues.
It's wandering down stranger streets,
& trying to make sense,
Of funny looking foreign signs & national defence.
The mall is full of restaurants,
& workers walk the streets,
A land of opportunities where peoples never meet.
Your children now eat sandwiches,
& change their style of dress,
Though all the shops look just like home,
Your world is in a mess.
Well the triads took the hostels,
Put protection on the stalls,
& now the common market,
Is throwing up new walls.
Well it ain't getting no better
& the prince don't like the news,
That his subjects in the mountains,
Have got the revolution blues.