On this, the thirteenth day of my residency in Japan, I've constructed a Music Blog - a means of inflicting my musical taste on the meta-populace of the Internet. Like being on the radio, but without all that hassle of, you know, a degree in journalism, gaining experience, blah blah blah.
This marvelous little ditty comes from the Fall's indispensible 1985 album, "This Nation's Saving Grace". Typically, a new abode is something to celebrate by inviting some friends over for, say, meatloaf and cocktails, or what have you. Not when Marc E. Smith is the homeowner. Cloaked in a foreboding dirge, Smith's lyrics drip with his usual paranoia, cynicism, and askew wordsmithery as he describes the cold, crumbling money pit. "According to the postman," Smith smirks sarcastically, "it's like the bloody Bank of England."
Not that I chose this song because I feel the same way about MY new house. Quite the opposite, really. This place is marvelous! A glorious little urban commune of like-minded world citizens. I chose this song because I love the Fall and because of the song title. Duh.