feat. Pelle Almgren vocals, Chris Townson drums, Enrico Antico & Ralf Leeman guitars
After making a full recovery from a fatal attack of Chinese bird flu, composer/bassist/producer Martin Gordon continues his adventures in pop wonderland with his third solo offering in as many years.
The follow-up to The Baboon in the Basement (2003) and The Joy of More Hogwash (2004), who knows what the fates have in store for this, the corybantic third part of the so-called Mammal Trilogy? Not he.
Assisted by singer Pelle Almgren from Stockholm, Chris Townson on drums and boy wonder Enrico Antico making his debut on guitar on guitar and terminal vowels, it’s service as normal for our happy-go-lucky purveyors of why-oh-why-must-we-fling-this-filth-at-our-pop-kids. During a consideration of the enduring oddities of life in this topsy-turvy world, Gordon touches upon foreign holidays and cargo cults who worship Queen Elizabeth’s consort Prince Phillip as a god, warns against relaxation of the thinking laws in the UK; he considers age as a cricketing metaphor, he obfuscates the delicate matter of gay smoking, he marvels at miracle babies from Ghana and he scarfs down fast food whilst scoffing at fat people and muses over the lack of interest currently shown by God in anything at all.
There are also two covers, one of the evergreen ‘Captain of the Pinafore’, from Gilbert & Sullivan’s operetta HMS Pinafore; the other is Paul McCartney’s treatise on moles, ‘Too Moley People’.
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10 thoughts on “God’s on His Lunchbreak (Please Call Back)”
What a great album even though Mr G tried to mess with our minds by putting the songs in the wrong order….
Up until i got my grubby paws on Time Gentlemen Please this was my favourite MG album even though it contains my least favourite MG song.
Well, it was a test to see if you are all paying attention. And clearly you are… Carry on!
OH and by the way, is that you singing lead vocals on Gimme Food? Sure doesn’t sound like Pelle…
No, it was some cheeky Cockernee git who just wandered in off the street. He was wearing a pearly jacket and claimed to be the illegitimate son of Dick van Dyke, the famous cheeky Cockernee git who just wandered in off the street. Gor blimey.
Ah, I see. I apologize for any blatant deafness I possess that I was not previously aware of. If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’m just going to go out for a pair of new hearing aids so I can kind-of-sort-of pick up every fifth word you say. Thank you.
I will have you know that Cockernee gits have much more important things to worry about than mere enunciation, such as catching jellied eels, putting them in pies, helping old ladies acrawss ve street and loving ducks.
The content of this album just reminded me of something. One local cult that I will not name (Iglesia ni Cristo) apparently believes that, once God comes back to Earth, He will miraculously attach a pair of Divine Rocket Boosters to their temple and it will fly up into the universe, never to be seen again. I don’t even know if this is even true but hey, food for thought.
There was a group of millenarianists who took up their places on top of a Scottish mountain, having sold their houses and assets (although one does wonder why), and waited for the Crack of Doom. When it didn’t come, they all trooped down again, but of course they had nowhere to go to….
I like the Holy Rocket Boosters of the Lord, definitely.
I suppose, once they are up there floating in space, they will pass by the Mormons on their personal planets and get into heresy-fueled quibbles about who really were God’s Chosen Space People after all.
I also suppose so. Or possibly the Mormons might rocket past the Scottish loonies. Or, even more remotely, the species might come to its senses. No, on reflection, I think I’ll go for the rocketing-past-the Mormons. Crazy Equine Deities! Hail Donny!