We Ate Cake

The Beautiful South
Ludlow Street, New York City, NY
6 November 2006
Courtesy of Whistling in the Dark (while we were just eating cake)

While ticket sales don’t always work out the way they should. TBS made the most of their time in New York – replacing their Monday Irving Plaza gig with a freebie in the Bowery at the “Cakeshop”.

01 Especially For You
02 The River
03 Pretty Things
04 Manchester
05 Old Red Eyes Is Back
06 Prettiest Eyes
07 Paul’s Poem
08 Rotterdam
09 One Last Love Song
10 Perfect 10
11 Let Love Speak Up Itself
12 Don’t Marry Her

Paul Heaton – vocals
Dave Rotheray – guitar
Dave Hemingway – vocals
Alison Wheeler – vocals
Tony Robinson – trumpet/backing vocals
Gaz Birtles – backing vocals
Kev Brown – backing vocals
Sean Welch – backing vocals

Paul also unveiled a new poem, aka something from his lyrics journal without any music written:

Poem About Everything and Naught

When hip-hop’s selling perfume
And boy band’s selling grief
The blues man’s market life insurance just won’t flip underneath
Jazz just chucks its concrete into transparent handkerchief
Everything is anything to anyone

The butchers sell you pantyhose
The supermarket sells you land
And the news really likes to read the news but he’s also in a band
And feminism’s fast asleep with a cock in either hand
Everything is anything to everyone

Modern, modern man is a man of many lives
So we decorate, we imitate, we duplicate their lives
It’s the sound of octopuses giving infinite high fives
Everybody’s business is show business

And the indoors wants you Oliver
And the outdoors wants you Audi
The bank they want a Tex or Hank
And the mic wants Pavarotti
Kitchen, garden, wardrobe, property in the sun
Everything is anything to everyone

The newsagent sells you holidays
The travel shop sells you sand
The local vicar saves your soul
But he also saves the damned
Nothing’s black and white no more
Just permanently tanned
Everything is everything to everyone

Locate, locate, locate
Locate the victim’s house
Swap their wives
And take their lives
And turn them inside out
Nothing left in closet
Nothing left in doubt
Everything is anything to everyone

Modern, modern woman
Is juggling many lives
Duplicating, decorating, imitating lives
To the sound of a million whistling wolves
From the ground of a thousand building sites
Everybody’s business is show business

And the thin are getting thinner
And the big are getting bigger
Till 5 and 75 year olds worry about their figure
The big are getting bigger
The thin are getting thinner
Till everyone is looking at everyone else’s dinner
And we shave our heads to make us look thin
Till the whole fucking Earth’s of fat bald skin
To the fitness instructors and the owners of the gym
I see piling down from the balcony of the trim
And there’s your space, MySpace, their big mouth
Turns everything and everyone inside out
Your tube, Me tube, everybody spout
Everything is anything and naughtis fucking naught

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