creamygoodness

So it's like this, see. Me, Big Tony, J-Bird, 'Hammers' Rankin, The Scotsman and some wise guy went by the name of Sideways Dan (he wasn't known to me, but Hammers tells me he's solid) had some business over on the east side in H-town last night. Nothing too heavy, just some damn fool stoolie who needed to learn the proper respect. So we finish our work and we need to unwind some. An outfit like ours, we work hard and at the end of the day we party hard, so only the most boppin speakeasy's gonna do.

So Big Tony tells us he knows this joint, The Lady Luck Club, where the tunes are swinging, the drinks flowing and the dames to die for. Lacking any better ideas we decide to try the place out. Big Tony tells us you gotta look the part to get in, but that's no problem for made men like us, even if we're pulling weeds in the yard, we look so sharp you could shave with us. So we're in through the door without any problems, but then that's no surprise to me, we're faces in this town and it'd be a damn-fool monkey at the door tries to stop us.

So we're in and it's everything Big Tony tells us. the club's swish, the drinks keep flowing and the gals there would make a man crawl over broken glass. But there's something missing. Then I see her across the crowd. You can tell straight off the bat the dame's trouble. Five feet nine of looks and attitude poured into a simple red and white dress. I can tell this lady's gonna burn me but I'll be damned if I can take my eyes off her. She walks over and tells me her name's Fanny then blows cigarette smoke in my face and I'll tell you, I've never known ash taste so sweet. I take my time, down a few more drinks and work up the courage to make my move.

I tell her the joint's jumpin, but it ain't the same without a gal to swing yer boots with. She tells me she's been waiting all night to hear that from someone and pulls me out onto the dancefloor. The lady moves as smooth as she looks. I've charmed my fair share of the ladies on the dancefloor, but she's got me feeling like I'm 12 again. Then, quick as it starts, it's over and she's gone. Damn me, but I always gotta go for the dames who ain't nothin but trouble.



Big Poppa Creamy's Audio Goodness

Marit Bergman - Adios Amigo: Munch, if you're reading this, this is probably the punkiest track of the lot I'd never heard of Marit Bergman before, and I can barely even remember where I got this track from, but I like it. It's bouncy, poppy, and lurches into a punky defiance at the chorus, accompanied by squealing feedback and fuzzy guitars. Lyrics-wise, she hits a nice balance between tongue-in-cheek self-deprecation and outright self-pity. Catchy stuff.

U2 Vs Lyrics Born - Callin' on Sunday: The first mashup remix I've posted on here. Not my absolute favourite but still pretty damn good. This one takes some of the instrumentals of U2's Sunday Bloody Sunday and mixes it with the lyrics and some other parts from a song by Lyrics Born called Call it up. I don't like rap or Hip-Hop on general principles, but every now and then I come across a particular song, maybe even an artist that I actually kinda like. this is one of them, Lyrics Born has a much more melodic delivery than usual and he's got a pretty tight flow. It matches well to U2's guitars to the point where it's not just an exercise of jamming two songs together and going 'look! Look! They fit!' but it becomes a credible tun in it's own right.

The Talk - Imaginary Lines: A little Indie for you now. This track's just chock-full of mad, spastic energy and barrels along for it's whole duration without letting up. This is Indie to be danced to, not posed to in time unlike a lot of 'The' bands lately that I could mention. Wankers, the lot of them.