Swan Song: The legendary encounter of top Greek Zeus & the lovely Leda is given a much more appropriate outcome to the sounds of an after-closing-time bar band.

They Like You, Undone: Worms of darkness burrow upwards to Benny's exterior while the dippy one-man-band plays happily, thoughtlessly to a very small crowd. The tiny, malevolent creatures join in on the deceptively sunny chorus.

The Green, Green Grass of Someone Else's Home: Sounds most like "vintage" Tall Dwarfs, complete with minimal lyrics that seem to mean something but don't, or do they? God, I sound like fucking Robert Stack.

The Severed Head of Julio: One to forever enhance your fear of flying. Adrenalin surges in times of spectacular emergency tend to have a slow-motion effect on everything around you. Julio celebrates a wonderful natural high.

Crocodile: Don't you just love those bastards with "sensitive empathy" buttons that they shamelessly use to gain the respect, admiration & sexual parts of a needful sufferer? And don't you [reallly, truly] adore the mellotron-saturated intstrumental?

Macrame: Actually about taxidermy but the ancient early 70's art of making utterly useless crap out of perfectly good string sounded more exotic. And doesn't this little monster swing.

Song of the Jealous Lover: Generations to come will ponder the cosmic significance of "Hand in hand the donkey wavers". You & I however will thrill at the symbiotic union of word & music that will always transcend mere meaning.

Honey, I'm Home: Honey's hubby expected it would all be just like a TV sitcom. That it's closer to "Married with Children" than "Step by Step" is of major concern to the poor fool. Honey leaves as the 70's soundtrack closes in on the hub.

Jesus the Beast: The second coming of the over-rated Mr. Christ goes substantially unnoticed in a small Ashburton pub. Thanks to the toxic effects of two-thousand years in our neglected soil J.C. is not up to the dress standards.

Cruising with Cochran: A true story of ex-con turned B-movie prison pics leading man & his curvy crew, & yeah, it's impossible to sail east from Acapulco but dig those crazy rhythms!

Things: A very short song.

Mojave: Don Van Vliet staggers out into the desert to paint the ancient Peyote voices in his head but the wind blows his canvas away. He consoles himself with the knowledge of having outlived Frank Zappa & goes back to his knitting.

Box of Aroma: What happens to your sense of smell while you're comatose? Certainly, nothing's quite right as you filter back into the waking world, except that guitar ... nope, it's gone wonky too, take me off life-suppor.......

Ghost Town: The lonely, tormented spirits of Django Reinhart & Russ Conway accompany our hero into a sub-world devoid of life & narrated by Rod Serling.

Deep-Fried: He slides into a backwards morass of inspired meaningless wisdom pursued by the devilish spectre of the face that tries to understand the form & function of a rusty shaving mirror. Damn! Where's that styptic pencil?

Disoriented Bodgie: Drunk & echo-chambered, the 50's throwback stumbles through empty streets, weeping pathetically in a nostalgic neo-stupor. Where have all the good times gone? Who do you think gives a fuck, you useless leftover ...

And That's Not All!!:An informercial for anything you've ever wanted. A 90's version of the genie's 3 wishes. And only a phone call away. I wanna be Rikki Lake & I know you do too!

Pull The Thread (and Unravel Me): John Coltrane is nowhere to be seen but his church hasn't been torn down yet ... String theory never really caught on so everyone settled for good ol' chaos ... You know you can!

Dessicated: A voice from behind the gib-board insinuates itself into your waking existence. How much of yourself is a long dead mummified domestic animal? We require nothing less than the truth. The truth, man! Be not glib!!

Albumen: Curdled egg-white, calcified tumours, ingrown prejudices harboured in the depths of our superb machines. We must make you feel the presence of something intangible, delicious and terrifying. It's our job.

Two Minds: A little beauty is a dangerous thing.

Up: Hey, after all these short songs we felt the need for a wank epic, O.K?

PLUG IN AND BE HAPPY ........