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Not As Bad As It Could've Been

by Scarth Hog

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    Scarth Hog stirs the swampy pot of rawk, blues, jazz, metal and punk loosely known as noise rock. Based at Canberra, Australia. Have snouts will travel. Here be their debut album ‘Not As Bad As It Could’ve Been’.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Not As Bad As It Could've Been via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days
    Purchasable with gift card

      $9 AUD or more 

     

1.
Head’s gotta win, tails lose Invest in hope, rewrite the news All the eights, All the eights Logic's random, pattern fails This gravy train's gone off the rails All the eights, All the eights "I got the silver bullet", said the fake tan in white shoes "So ante up and panties down, now what you got to lose?" ‘Cept all the eights, All the eights Rabbit's foot, gold number-plate, the ultimate blind date with all the eights, All the eights You can call it joss and burn some sticks Or be the shill in a three shell trick All the eights, All the eights You can put a hex on a hexagram Or swing along with the Hanging Man All the eights, All the eights "I got the knife to cut this deal", said the smile behind the spin "So pony up in phony town, the water's fine, jump in" With all the eights, All the eights Wishbone crack and scarab black, you'll never catch a taste of All the eights… etc.
2.
Bundle of rags at the side of the road And the B-doubles rollin’ by He’s got a load of crap to deliver by four To a loot-snoutin’ corporate whore So he puts his boot to the floor And the needle hits 149, needle’s at 149, needle’s at 149, let’s roll... Bundle of rags at the side of the road Walked a tightrope shadow life Just the men who hit and the women who scored The dead-eyed clerk who slammed the door A pimp who always wanted more Bought her needles at 149, needles at 149, needles at 149 We unwanted misbegotten Roll for the kids who are forgotten Let’s roll motherfuckers, let’s roll…
3.
Woke up in a town called Jellyroll ‘Bout sixty miles north of Wheredafugg Euphemisms perched on the ‘phone wires Innuendo owned the alleys The General Store sold lemon-squeezers I asked them for a melon-twister That got me my first warnin’ ‘We don’t hold with no sugar-pourin’ ’ But all I really wanted was a two dollar dream Two-dollar dream, I want a two-dollar dream… So I crossed the street to the Jellyroll Tavern Where the jukebox ain’t got but thirty songs They got ‘House Of The Rising Free Bird’, ‘Bad Mustang Sally On The Rise’ All the hits a normal feller might wanna hear That didn’t pull my dime… I waited for the band to start The band set up and played every song on the jukebox in alphy-betical order So I took out my custom-made vintage kazoo and asked to sit in That got me my second warnin’ They said “this here’s our fingers and our pie, boy, go find your own” Well, god bless the child, god bless the motherfucking child that’s got his own! Two-dollar dream, I want a two-dollar dream… Then I sat me down by the riverside Where an original swam by, wearin’ nothin’ but gooseflesh and a smile A school of clichés dragged it under, stripped it clean in seconds Its bones were just an ivory puzzle, twisting in the riverweed And that was my third warnin’ So now I’m travellin’ on down to Mediocreville See if there’s a dream down there I can afford Two-dollar dream, I want a two-dollar dream…
4.
Collateral 04:09
Your sky fairy ain’t as tough as mine Your flag’s a rag compared to mine I burn your books, you burn mine We ain’t come far since monkey-time Ain’t come far since monkey-time Species peak, species crawl Wake me up when your messiah calls Child’s melted face turned to the wall That’s your sky fairy’s collateral Collateral – change the channel – just collateral Your rendition is a kidnap hit Your border camp is a gulag pit You twist your language, I’ll twist mine We ain’t come far since monkey-time We ain’t come far since monkey-time Shake your cross, I’ll point my bone As above, so below Run from your fear, I’ll run from mine We ain’t come far since monkey-time Ain’t come far since monkey-time Species peak, species crawl Wake me up when your messiah calls Child’s melted face turned to the wall That’s your sky fairy’s collateral Change the channel – just collateral
5.
6.
Cable Street 04:46
They’re coming for the artists ‘Cos art leads to thought Coming for the teachers Resistance can be taught Pumping up the bigots Shrieking ‘stop the boats’ We got a fascist epidemic Evil is as stupid votes Here we stand – no pasaran Here we stand – no pasaran My old man held Cable Street and I will hold this ground They’re coming for the Muslims Coming for the Jews Coming for the blacks and gays Which side you gonna choose? Europe stood and watched As they loaded up the trains Dachau, Auschwitz, Sobibor Here it comes again Here we stand – no pasaran Here we stand – no pasaran My old man held Cable Street and I will hold this ground La Pasionaria sleeps Phil Piratin sleeps Morris Beckman sleeps The 43 Group sleeps But some of us are not asleep And we will hold this ground… Here we stand – no pasaran Here we stand – no pasaran My old man held Cable Street and I will hold this fucking ground
7.
Sleeper Cell 04:22
The long game, we play the long game… Wage slaves, sex slaves Contract flesh: inform, resist; inform, resist Lesions upon lesions Tumours upon growths Bio-hosts: Delete your code, delete your code Robber barons swinging in the clean light of day They all got brand new neckties from Colombi-ay, from Colombi-ay The long game, we play the long game… Enforcers, informers Gun-lovers: Rewrite your scripts, rewrite your scripts Lies upon confusion Fake upon mirage Uniforms: Reverse your norms, reverse your norms Puppets are helpless when the handlers are gone What new hell we gonna build in this smouldering dawn?
8.
Grout 01:10
9.
10.
Kerouac Code 03:23
When we gotta duck n dive we talk oblique Twist the pragmatics n jam the frequencies Thieves’ cant rebooted for the 21 C Squirrels runnin’ ADHD thru my PTSD From Romany root to the beat speak age It’s a literati party to keep us out the cage We mix it up good, every week a new barker From Tony Burgess to Amiri Baraka Hit the road Jack, Kerouac code Fibre sings to the underground node Hit the road Jack, word spaghetti Surveillance don’t know a yentl from a yeti Hit the road… Schlep to the sports, boost a Micky Mantle Nazis can’t walk if they got no ankles We’re our own triple zero, cops is chocolate teapots See the toffee word assortment bouncin’ off the woodentops Hit the road Jack, Kerouac code Fibre sings to the underground node Hit the road Jack, word spaghetti Surveillance don’t know a yentl from a yeti Hit the road… Satori ain’t no meat-stick, meet ya where the stars leave holes What’s that even mean? The Shadow knows Poetic preservation, lingua franca, shifting code A dancing tongue’ll keep ya off the ropes and on the road Hit the road Jack, Kerouac code Fibre sings to the underground node Hit the road Jack, word spaghetti Surveillance don’t know a yentl from a yeti Hit the road…
11.
Never bend to tie your bootlace in a car park late at night Never toss a poisoned apple to a child Never paint the sky quite blue, don’t pretend the clouds are white Don’t forget where all the secrets are filed Pour another shot boy, fill it to the brim Your uncle will dispense a little more advice Never read a lover’s diary if you got no taste for bile Never look a hurt hyena in the eye Never take the kind of job where you always got to smile Don’t let the petty bastards see you cry Now switch off your phone boy, kick it to the curb Your uncle will dispense a little more advice Life spins how you shape it out of pocket-lint and smoke Mornings are a raffle, mostly evenings are a joke Keep your lucky numbers hidden for a rainy afternoon Learn to love the lonely twilight in a filthy motel room Never snap your hat brim, ‘less you’re thoroughly perturbed Wear rubber soles - it’s a slippery kind of life Always face the traffic when you’re walking on the curb Never pay a shaky hand to twist the knife Clip another Cuban boy, pass it over here Your uncle will dispense a little more advice Life spins how you shape it out of pocket-lint and smoke Mornings are a raffle, mostly evenings are a joke Keep your lucky numbers hidden for a rainy afternoon Learn to love the lonely twilight in a filthy motel room
12.
Now the mad and the bad got their fingers on the buttons When they push them suckers there won’t be nothin’ Outside the bunker but roaches and rats But it’s all good, I’ve planned for that I’ll drag my hairy ass down a cosy hole I’m gonna be a rat on a roll Rat, rat, rat on a roll uh huh huh… Well I ain’t no lemming and I ain’t no vole I’m just a rat on a roll We got this whole mall to ourselves ‘Cept for a crispy Santa and some deep-fried elves The Half-life Deli’s open 24/7 It’s a looters’ paradise, rodent heaven Well praise de lawdy for abundant cheeses Let’s shake some rat ass for the baby jeezus Rat, rat, rat on a roll uh huh huh… I ain’t no badger and I ain’t no mole I’m just a rat on a roll Just one Trumpocalyptic thing I’m missin’ Got no rat lurve, no whisker-kissin’ Tried to put my armagged-on a slinky rat But she weren’t havin’ none of that Told me to take a post-nuclear stroll And stick my head up my own mousehole, but… I just wanna Rat n Roll all nite n mutate every day… Rat, rat, rat on a roll uh huh huh… Well I ain’t no lemming and I ain’t no vole I’m just a rat on a roll
13.
Played a thousand karzis on a continent or two Been ripped off, stitched up, fucked around by harder twats than you Seen all the fiddles and shifties, scams and sleights of hand It ain’t no kiddies’ picnic playin’ in a small-time band But here we are at the studio door to do it all again This full mental racket might just dull the pain cos it’s… Not as bad as it could’ve been, sucked less than we thought We might be in the gutter but at least we ain’t been bought Not as bad as it could’ve been, it don’t completely bite Arseclowns got us on the ropes but we’re gonna win this fight Not half bad… Not half bad… Boiling strings, eating skip surprise, things is lookin' bleak Turn those krusties inside out, they’ll last another week The door take done been taken, by the doorman – thievin’ scroat The last good mic’s gone walkies down the mixer’s coat But here we are in the bastard van to do it all again This full mental racket might just dull the pain 'cos it’s… Not as bad as it could’ve been, sucked less than we thought We might be in the gutter but at least we ain’t been bought Not as bad as it could’ve been, it don’t completely bite Arseclowns got us on the ropes but we’re gonna win this fight Not half bad… Not half bad…

about

Scarth Hog stirs the swampy pot of rawk, blues, jazz, metal and punk loosely known as noise rock. Based at Canberra, Australia. Have snouts will travel. Here be their debut album ‘Not As Bad As It Could’ve Been’.

Do say: “We wanna have fun”, “System’s broke; let’s fix” and “Thinking ain’t no crime” Don’t say: “Are you available for a corporate function?”, “Play some covers” or “Don’t you just adore the global resurgence of bastard fascism?” (No, we don’t).

credits

released October 8, 2019

Bill Bostle: bass guitar, vocals
Phil Gemmell: guitars
Mark Woods: drums

All music and lyrics © + registered 2019 Bill Bostle, arr. Scarth Hog; except:

Grout (Phil Gemmell), Mill Street Junction (Bill Nelson; pub. B.Feldman & Co Ltd/EMI).

Two Dollar Dream contains a fragment of lyric from God Bless The Child (Billie Holiday, Arthur Herzog Jnr; pub. Edward B Marks Music).

Rat On A Roll contains an excerpt adapted from Rock And Roll All Nite (Paul Stanley, Gene Simmons; pub. Universal Music).

Recorded more-or-less live at Shabby Road Studios, Growlaway, 'Straya.

Mastering: Kimmo Vennonen at KV Productions.

Photography: Teresa Bostle.

Thanks to Sarah Samsara for noise tolerance and 10,000 cups of tea.

Vulpine Music: Skulk 014.

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Scarth Hog Canberra, Australia

Scarth Hog: stirs the swamp of rawk, blues, jazz, metal and punk loosely known as noise rock. Canberra, Australia.

Bill Bostle (King Snake Roost, Half, The Skronks, Born Again Pagans, Car Hank Died In): bass, vocals

Phil Gemmell (Corpse, Demise, Deadlights, Prosthetic Heads, The Laureates): guitars

Mark Woods (Hell Yes, Il Bruto): drums, more cowbell

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