Silver Slipper Waltz
1998, 12:00
Voice, Two Percussion and Live Electronics
Written for David Dramm, Robert Poss, Wim Konink and Marcel Andriessen
Programme notes
From ‘All Lit Up.’
Lyrics
Land your chopper on the roof
we meet for drinks at five
Venus lining up Black Johnnies, Monkey Spanners
with the soda on the side
We go tour roto-blade photocade
We’ll be shooting Strip all day
I can see the future and it won’t get in our way
out among the cacti
we got a plugged-in rococo
let me guide you through a quick review
of who’s really in the know
at the corner pocket table
there’s Julius II
he’s selling back catalog to the TV crew
T. got a UV A/B-filtered body
sweat resistant thighs
she’s been hanging outside city limits
trying to catch a ride
blinded by the sun all day
some kinda pre-Rayban unease
with those double-beam headlights
couldn’t catch her Z’s
one too many Ungated Julios
she was losing her glow in the undertow
’til Howard handed her the keys
V. got Pythant hropometricalbody
Gudean double cubit eyes
she ran a numbers racket
on the back of a papernapkin in a Riviera dive
she was sliding in to metastasis
some kinda modular deep-freeze
she was sinkin’ like granite
’til Howard handed her the keys
she drink sun-aged brandylike its candy
she turns water into wine
she’s our fountain of youth when its handy
but she’s likely to decline
I want a house with running water
I want a chain-link door
I want a walk-in garden with a neon floor
the future turned on a dime and gave us back change
the city lit up like a pyre; all samples out of range
I can see the future but it isn’t here to stay
I can see the future but it won’t get in our way
we thought it all up here at the Slipper
free parking after five
Venus lining up Black Johnnies, Monkey Spanners
with the soda on the side
Land your chopper on the roof
we meet for drinks at five
Venus lining up Black Johnnies, Monkey Spanners
with the soda on the side
We go tour roto-blade photocade
We’ll be shooting Strip all day
I can see the future and it won’t get in our way
out among the cacti
we got a plugged-in rococo
let me guide you through a quick review
of who’s really in the know
at the corner pocket table
there’s Julius II
he’s selling back catalog to the TV crew
T. got a UV A/B-filtered body
sweat resistant thighs
she’s been hanging outside city limits
trying to catch a ride
blinded by the sun all day
some kinda pre-Rayban unease
with those double-beam headlights
couldn’t catch her Z’s
one too many Ungated Julios
she was losing her glow in the undertow
’til Howard handed her the keys
V. got Pythant hropometricalbody
Gudean double cubit eyes
she ran a numbers racket
on the back of a papernapkin in a Riviera dive
she was sliding in to metastasis
some kinda modular deep-freeze
she was sinkin’ like granite
’til Howard handed her the keys
she drink sun-aged brandylike its candy
she turns water into wine
she’s our fountain of youth when its handy
but she’s likely to decline
I want a house with running water
I want a chain-link door
I want a walk-in garden with a neon floor
the future turned on a dime and gave us back change
the city lit up like a pyre; all samples out of range
I can see the future but it isn’t here to stay
I can see the future but it won’t get in our way
we thought it all up here at the Slipper
free parking after five
Venus lining up Black Johnnies, Monkey Spanners
with the soda on the side