Alan's solo:
Gather roun' 'n hear my story
Oh boy!
'Bout the time when Jelly Roll was in town
(Stompin' it off, stompin' it off...)
He heard a local pianist
What joy!
Stompin' out music on an old upright pi-ano
Here comes King
that was downright ragged in a Scott Joplin way
(Here he comes-Master of the stomp)
Ol' Jelly knew the fella could play
Dig him!
by the things he heard his right hand say
(Now - we're gonna romp)
(There was no doubtin' that the man could swing)
When Jelly Roll demanded his name
Hail! King Porter
Well, the man responded "Porter King"
(Dig 'Im!) By order!
Well, Jelly lef' th' city, but he wrote
(Dig 'Im!) Y' wanna dig 'im
a rompin' ditty 'bout the Porter
(Dig 'Im!) Y' gonna dig 'im
who was "King O' The Stomp"
Porter King sho' can stomp
Jelly wrote a ditty 'bout a fella who could romp
This is the tune - "King Porter Stomp"
When Porter's stridin' hands are flyin'
An' all his fingers are testifyin'
His two feet stompin' in ragged time
That's a feelin' that is so sublime - Y' dig it?
He's generatin' so much excitement
Y' keep forgettin' just what uptight meant
N' that's that fella named Porter King
His style's the essence o' Swing
(Well, well, well)
Oh, well, go on n' tell it
Cheryl's solo:
When Jelly first heard Porter King
He declared he heard the very heart an' soul of swing
A certain ragged kind o' romp
in between a jump and a stomp
When Jelly heard, well, he really knew
because he played too
That Porter was a King, really n' truly a stone king
Another thing, somethin' never heard of
"Somethin' else" is the sort o' phrase
A fella'd prob'ly have t'use
if'e was gonna describe
the way Porter plays
There never was - an never's gonna be
another strider fine as he
I know no other ear will ever hear another like it hereLyrics by Richey James and Nicky Wire, music by James Dean Bradfield and Sean Moore
I am the raping sunglass gaze
Of sweating man and escort agencies
60's alienation the anthem of care
Now a knife constantly slashing eyelids
Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the god
Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the god
They dig the new scene and their parties
Where Stonehenge is worshipped and drugs a deity
Vicarious thrills re-run their youth-
We follow we have no voice the dead
Radio nostalgia is radio death
I wanna cover diamonds on my wife Hardrock nostalgia the Stones on c.d.
Tranquillised icons for the sweet paralysed
Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the god
Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the god
So cool the new sound of the decade
Thinks it's so fresh not a post Elvis still
All taste is nothing-old pictures blow dried
Rebellion it always sells at a profit
I am a face of fashion in Soho Square
My tie is Paul Smith or Gaultier
My cheeks blood red as my favourite port
But hey cocaine keeps cholesterol at bay
Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the god
Slavery to the beat
Slavery to the chord
Slavery to the pleasure
Slavery to the god
Some god