The Man That Things Weren't Meant To Know MKCD010 2011CE
 click here [64.4mb zip] to download the whole album in high quality 192Kbps MP3, complete with printable inlay in pdf format; or click on a song title to read lyrics for individual songs, & play them in lower quality 96Kbps MP3, which will open in a new window/tab.
H P Lovecraft was an American horror writer at the beginning of the 20th century. He's been extraordinarily influential on horror & sci-fi literature - not because of his prose style (which leaves much to be desired) or his characterisation (which is practically non-existent), but because of the scope & the sweep of his imagination. Instead of an ordered universe with some benevolent deity, Lovecraft's stories describe a vast & uncaring cosmos peopled with hideous, vast, tentacled alien monstrosities who might as well be gods. They're not exactly evil, in any conventional sense; often they don't even notice the likes of humanity, let alone care about them. Sometimes described as "blind & idiotic", these beings might destroy the world without even noticing. What Lovecraft created was a mythology for the scientific materialist age, where these creatures are metaphors for the impersonal forces of nature upon whose caprices our safety & sanity depend.
The reason for mentioning all this is that, over the course of 2010, it's occurred to me that the world makes a lot more sense if you assume that our world leaders, bankers, CEOs of big corporations, the great & the good, are all in fact in league with these creatures, worshipping them & planning to deliver humanity into their clutches.
This album is also, amongst other things, a meditation upon life in England during the current escalating Great Recession - & indeed, what it even means to be English these days.
From a production point of view, this album builds upon the sound of (Batteries Not Invented), but with the addition of a 12-string guitar rather than a standard 6-string. I've found that it sounds a great deal fuller - having decided to strip down Mirrorkill's music to its acoustic bare essentials, it's rather like suddenly having an effects pedal again.
The track Shoggoths' Pseudopods In Ectoplasm is a Lovecraftian take on a King Crimson track, Larks' Tongues In Aspic. Trans-Albionic Existential Boogie builds on the riff from a Frank Zappa song, Debra Kadabra, & features lyrical references to English folk ballad Matty Groves, Killing Joke's New Culture, Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner, & the appalling experience of travelling on Virgin Trains. & Xpider owes a great debt to Rush, an heroically uncool Canadian prog-rock band who I've loved forever, & specifically to their stunning track La Villa Strangiato.
The album & track title of The Man That Things Weren't Meant To Know came from a friend of mine by the name of Art who, in the course of what passes for normal conversation in my circles, had cause to use the phrase "the things that man wasn't meant to know" & tripped over his words. This probably offers as much insight into my creative processes as I've ever given anyone.
Please be warned that Mirrorkill cannot be held responsible for any local reality perturbations, or for the rampaging denizens of any dimensional portals which may manifest as a result of listening to these works.
01 pentacles, tentacles, wallet & watch [4:16 2.9MB MP3]
anyone wondering how it can be
that they feel they're in chains when they're supposed to be free
should take a good look at our leaders elected
'cos they're not on our side, they're corrupt & infected
take a rag to the glass, clear a patch in the grime
& peer through the windows of power & crime
see the high priest of Azathoth nursing a scotch
pentacles, tentacles, wallet & watch
they've found the controls, they can make you desire it
why build a weapon unless you can fire it?
blind & uncaring, their idiot gods
chewing depleted uranium rods
they're watching you now, right there where you're sitting
insufficiently freaked by the fear they're transmitting
so they turn the intensity up by a notch
yeah, pentacles, tentacles, wallet & watch
they've sold us all out to impersonal forces
their power derives from unspeakable sources
they're robbing us blind & they're showing no shame
& all that they do, they do in our name
their arrogance is our confusion refracted
we could take back control, but we're all too distracted
by the latest celebrity grabbing their crotch
crying "pentacles, tentacles, wallet & watch"
hey, hipster! it's all too easy
don't you get suspicious?
how you find the time to walk the line
between eco & narcissus
cannot square the things you've said
with the fact that you're a petrol head
your convictions are defective
your attention's so selective
like you can't see the deforestation for the clearings
the diamond trade for all the earrings
the exploitation for the inexpensive
I can see why you're defensive
not being bothered is the key
& no one's worse at that than me
but I'm a part of all I see
& that's my own catch 23
& all those who claim to steer the ships
of politics & vision
cannot expect a better lot
than history's derision
'cos there's such corruption at the top
my cynicism can't keep up
but every time we hear their shit
we let them get away with it
whining on the websites
in a disunited front
about the immigrants who've come to do
the jobs you wouldn't want
if we're going to have a clearout
to keep this country free
why don't all the anglo-saxons
piss off back to germany?
I owe no landmass loyalty
don't think you'll ever speak for me
it's time for all of this to stop
what is a country but a rag & a rock?
if the rabid & religious
can't share nicely when they play
then the only fair solution
is to take their toys away
as the madmen load their rifles
draw divisions in the sand
I suggest we clear the area
& nuke the holy land
in your convictions you are free
until you start affecting me
you're not our shepherd, we're not your flock
& what is a country but a rag & a rock?
with all your cold eugenic theories
you are a traitor to your species
in this mobius war that no one chooses
there's only one side - & it always loses
the world turns, the future burns
you're obliterating everything you touch
your false pride, a poison tide
the death of everything we ever loved so much
bad seeds, the ocean bleeds
can't get rid of you, the proof just can't be found
but just a minute, without you in it
could be enough for us to turn this ship around
at the BP executives' infinite meeting
discussing their image & humanity's bleating
under the surface, the source of the scheming
in the sump of our hearts Cthulhu lies dreaming
holy rocks in posh frocks
fear & ignorance the oxygen you breathe
superstition, no admission
in spite of everything your followers believe
the old lies, tradition's ties
assume authority, before the world you stand
but each thrust betrays your trust
the death of innocence happens at your hands
the high priest of tooth decay, archbishop caries
has one how's-our-father, ten bloody maries
for a face in the darkness, a voice in the screaming
in the sump of our hearts Cthulhu lies dreaming
05 shoggoths' pseudopods in ectoplasm [5:46 4.0MB MP3]
(Instrumental)
this web you have woven
in praise of your masters
will be your undoing
you treacherous bastards
'cos you're stuck here with us
in this sticky internment
the source of the strands
it was never your servant
07 trans-albionic existential boogie [5:20 3.7MB MP3]
a travelogue, a travelogue & the first one of the year
through the many-coloured people that the tabloids love to fear
& a million different rhythms that surround us every day
still the BNP won Burnley, & understanding slips away
iphones, iphones, everywhere & not a spot to think
the executive across from me, it's pushed him to the brink
to the borderlands of psychopathic, can't offend that demographic
better hope it isn't me, 'cos I hate him so reflexively
& we're lurching on through England on this heaving, hurtling train
& we're creeping up on springtime & the thawing of our pain
my fellow passengers & I, it almost makes me proud to say
we stare disaster in the face, & it's just another day
leaders looking down upon us from another of their perks
but all of our resentment is the reason nothing works
so they paint the night with cameras, now there's nowhere we're unseen
I can only bow my head & pray to my configurine
waiting at our finger tips, the wisdom of the ages
but we only seem to use it to redecorate our cages
all this communication with so little left to say
& we're drenched in mediation, & we're empty when we play
the lessons of our TV mother, in one eye & out the other
english language left for dead while buzzwords circle overhead
for all our new technology & all its clever perks
this train has just two lavatories, & only one that works
08 the man that things weren't meant to know [5:28 3.8MB MP3]
the social contract's being broken
promises were only spoken
power shared & shame divided
democracy has been derided
the game is lost, for now at least
we make our bed down with the beast
but we're all Hunters, fear & loathing
bigger wolves in cheaper clothing
create of us your nemeses
d'you think there'll be no price to pay?
the bread & circuses
won't last much longer anyway
so take it all away from me
make it painful, make it slow
I'll have no option but to be the man
that things weren't meant to know
so here we are, 6 billion faces
pretending like we know our places
as greed & envy sit enthroned
we throw the hounds of hell a bone
for our oppressors no forgiveness
nothing's fair in love & war & business
this coming age, it dawns so slowly
"hey ho" says Aleister Crowley
in this world of desperation & pain
we have no faith left for you to reclaim
no more lies for your own profit & gain
you have no hold, now you've sold off the chains
no matter how well you have planned
your castles are built on the sand
to the forces unleashed on this land
all the king's horses won't stand
all through your true pathological reign
all those you've kept drunk & stupid & vain
looking, searching, just for someone to blame
ropes & torches, & they're chanting your name
no matter how well you have planned
your castles are built on the sand
to the forces unleashed on this land
all the king's horses won't stand
so cheer on & strike up the band
& keep all your gatehouses manned
to a spark from the flames that you've fanned
all the king's horses won't stand
all the gold from the river you panned
turns to shit in the palm of your hand
to the legions of souls that you've damned
all the king's horses won't stand
10 yog sothoth wants me for an irridescent globule [6:41 4.6MB MP3]
(Might as well be an instrumental...)
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