Ten Tracks: Punch & The Apostles

In The Realm of Hatred
 
An old one that slipped between the grills, it came in a flash of rage while perched atop the peristaltic bowl, bemoaning the wiles and pitfalls of the fairer sex, the damaging frequencies of lust, the pert nubile nuptials of 'the net' and a swooning, withering withdrawal.

Womb Grave
 
Self-explanatory. The life-long vector of the human arrow - departure to destination death.

 
Bull-ring
 
Why this number is a cute little fairytale of aging talent facing the terminal bonanza with aplomb and tooth-gritting determination. The crowd assembles - the sun eviscerates the helpless earth and as tender young shoots, barely embarked on their debut photosynthesis, hiss and wilt beneath the solar onslaught, our hero (nameless) emerges ancient, sagging beneath his sequins, in the archway of the great cultural cantina - the bullring. His past life, his glories, the battles he has won, the women he has conquered, transcendent in their fading submission, stretch behind him like his shadow as he moves to face a younger, stronger more vicious adversary (the animal-fascist) and anticipates the puncturing horn.

 
Engineers of Salammbo
 
A latino meditation on the structure of ambivalence.
  
   

Shithouse
 
The fruit of a bitter winter in muddy, impoverished, skulking, guttering Ayrshire. Caught between the arrogant presumption of nouveau riche scum-bags playing "who's the queen" on an arbitrary windfall and the vulgar depredations of the illiterate masses, three geniuses, drunk against the cold, dispute the titles to an ancestral cottage while the rich give head.

Gone to the Shops
 
A hairy marine monstrosity taps out something approaching a house riff on a ruptured harmonium while provisions are collected from Lidl and the local Freemasons 'grease up their boards'. Gnarly.

Wintertime Blues
 
A blues about the winter. Composed in the Shithouse. 

Prelude in D Minor (Something More Than Red Blood Flowing)
 
Wordless, meaningless, nice coffeetable music if you can afford one. With a fundamentally Marxist tonality.

Beyond the Bed
 
The lyrical content to this song is as universal as commerce, touted at you non-stop down the radio-hooter and blared into your instruction-tanks, the voyeurs of society proclaim the necessity of fleshy human companionship for the sake of normal development, happiness, fulfillment, salvation! Punch and the Apostles took the executive decision to cash in on that most lucrative of subjects - interpersonal relationships. Check-books at the ready consumers, is this a taste of things to come?

Baptist Jones
 
Well Baptist Jones was a darling man but a greedy grasping adventurer, he spent his life on the open road and his face was scarred and his teeth had fur. Something out of the dusty vaults, never intended for the light of evaluation. Listen out for the percussive cutlery.