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Oscar McLennan | Kiss of the Chicken King

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Folk: Irish Contemporary Folk: Alternative Folk Moods: Type: Acoustic
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Kiss of the Chicken King

by Oscar McLennan

The style is experimental acustic folk with higly original lyrics. This album consists of nine songs, two instrumental pieces and a series of spoken word performances, inspired by the novel of the same title by the Scottish writer, musician and performer Oscar McLennan. The album is produced in collaboration with Martin Tourish and Gabriele Muscolino.
Genre: Folk: Irish Contemporary
Release Date: 

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  Song Share Time Download
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1. I Give You London!
1:17 album only
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2. Hokey Cokey Woman
2:26 $0.99
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3. An Empty Sack
0:49 album only
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4. Dark Side of the Sun
2:27 $0.99
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5. Jack the Lad
0:06 album only
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6. Hall of Mirrors
3:24 $0.99
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7. We Are Sailing
1:20 album only
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8. Gotcha
3:02 $0.99
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9. The Ridge Road Reel
2:13 $0.99
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10. Here Today, Gone Tomorrow!
0:48 album only
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11. All Change
2:40 $0.99
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12. Why?
1:11 album only
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13. Fly
2:35 $0.99
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14. Air of the Dog
3:42 $0.99
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15. Up a Flag Pole
0:24 album only
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16. Doesn't John Look Nice
3:11 $0.99
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17. The Great Escape
0:52 album only
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18. Goldie
4:28 $0.99
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19. A Grey Triangle of Light
2:44 album only
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20. The Kiss of the Chicken King
2:17 $0.99
Downloads are available as MP3-320 files.

ABOUT THIS ALBUM


Album Notes
From the original idea from Erica Peroni that Oscar should write a song based on his book, Kiss of The Chicken King, to meeting Martin Tourish on a plane to Glasgow, this CD is born from a fascinating intercultural journey, mostly between Ireland and Italy, where Oscar met Gabriele Muscolino.
The book has now also become a multi media theatre performance, commissioned by the 2014 Adelaide Theatre Festival.

All lyrics and music by Oscar McLennan.
Produced and Arranged by Martin Tourish and Gabriele Muscolino.

Recorded and edited in Mattarello, Salorno and Bolzano (Italy) by Fabio De Pretis, Gabriele Muscolino and Martin Tourish. Also in Dublin with Nigel Linden and Martin Tourish at Sixes and Sevens studio.

Sleeve Design:
Original Cover Artwork: 'Fishboy' and 'Licking Good': Phelim Connolly
Images behind lyrics: Kevin McAleer


Hokey Cokey Woman
Oscar McLennan: Vocals, Guitar
Erica Peroni: Backing Vocals
Gabriele Muscolino: Bouzouki, Mandolin, Guitar
Martin Tourish: Accordions
Martin O'Neill: Bodhrán 


Dark Side of the Sun
Oscar: Vocals, Guitar
Erica: Backing Vocals


Hall of Mirrors
Oscar: Vocals, 
Gabriele: Guitar, Mandolin, bouzouki, keyboard
Martin: Accordion
Francesco: Tin-Whistle Brazzo
Erica: Backing Vocals


Gotcha
Oscar: Vocals 
Francesco & Gabriele: Backing Vocals 
Martin: Accordion, Keyboard
Martin O'Neil: Bodhrán, Cymbals. 


Ridge Road Reel
Martin: Accordion
Gabriele: Bouzouki, Hammond Organ. 

All Change
Oscar: Vocals
Gabriele: Mandolin, Bouzouki, Guitar, Shaker, Keyboard.
Martin: Accordions, Organ
Francesco: Uilleann Pipes Drones


Fly
Oscar: Vocals, Guitar.
Martin: Accordions, Keyboard. 
Martin O'Neil: Bodhrán 
Gabriele: Bouzouki, Throat Singing. 


Air of the Dog
Oscar: Guitar
Martin: Accordions, Low Whistle, Keyboard. 
Gabriele: Bouzouki 

Doesn't John Look Nice
Oscar: Vocals 
Gabriele: Bouzouki, Guitar, Mandolin, Keyboard. 

Goldie
Oscar: Vocals
Erica: Backing Vocals
Martin: Accordion 


Waiting on the Kiss of the Chicken King.
Oscar: Vocals 
Gabriele: Bouzouki, Guitar, Effects
Martin: Accordions, Hammond Organ
Martin O'Neil: Bodhrán, Sus. Cymbals
Christian Eccli: Trumpet
Lukas Tait: Trombone.
Stefan Nicolodi: French Horn

Special thanks to:

David Sefton (Adelaide Festival)
Cian O'Brien (Project Arts Centre, Dublin)
Nikki Shira Byrne
Rory Garrett
Phil Meyler
Sam Meyler
Angelika Pedron
Peter Pelosi
Erica Peroni
Paola Peroni
Lino Peroni
Noelia Ruiz
Catherine Turner

And to everyone else who has helped me in various ways along the road!


Kiss of the Chicken King – CD Lyrics

HOKEY COKEY WOMAN
The streets are lined with painted faces,
cheering insanely, dancing to her tune.
The air is filled with blowing bubbles,
fantasy worlds, floating in a dream.
In a dream, a patriotic dream, dancing in a dream,
that’s simpilistic jingoistic.

Have you seen the Hokey Cokey Woman,
swinging that handbag, with a madness in her eyes.
Leading the way to one big happy family.
Everyone’s a Big Ben, knees up in the East End
Brittania’s going to rule the waves again.

The backstreets are lined with darkness, crippled shadows
stumble to her tune.
The air is filled with nightmare visions, burst illusions, the remnants of a dream.
Oh that dream, that patriotic dream, dancing in a dream,
that’s simpilistic, jingoistic.

Have you seen the Hokey Cokey Woman,
swinging that handbag, with a madness in her eyes.
Leading the way to one big happy family.
Everyone’s a Big Ben, knees up in the East End
Brittania’s going to rule the waves again.


DARK SIDE OF THE SUN
The telephone never rings, the bedsprings never sing,
the silence is deafening to me,
time is no more, just crawled out of the door,
the empty hours were not much company.
The telephone never rings, from summer through to spring,
just sits there making fun of me,
a smile upon its face as it watches my disgrace,
a goldfish and a fly for company.

On the rug a capsized mug, a stagnant pool of tea,
I’m going round the bend when my cigarette ends,
to see where that takes me.

The telephone never rings just says the same old thing,
no-one is calling out for you,
no surprises no thrills, don’t know why I pay the bills,
still hoping for something out the blue.

Looking through a keyhole at a life that’s out of reach,
where the rich have all the fun,
instead of on a ski slope or lying on a beach,
I’m stuck here on the dark side of the sun.


HALL OF MIRRORS
Looking through the looking glass,
who do you see when you’re looking at me,
a nod and a wink, you’re gone in a blink,
a trick of light, a thing of the past.
Is there anybody in there, out there, down there,
come dance with me, take a chance with me,
The image of my living death.

Shimmer shimmer, fat and slimmer,
stuck inside this hall of mirrors,
watch myself fade away.
I’m a Capricorn you’re my Cancer,
the signs are right for our romance,
let’s get together, what do you say.

Falling into my reflection,
drowning in a sea of glass,
going under for the third time,
with the phantoms of my past.
Wrap my arms around my body,
pull it gasping in the air,
spitting out my contradictions,
spitting out my fear.

In the mirror, always thinner,
in my eyes the light grows dimmer,
watch myself waste away.
With your head upon my shoulders,
together we could grow older,
opposites attract so they say.


GOTCHA
Black sheep among white faces,
red white and blue.
White feather, yellow belly,
they’re coming after you.

The headlines scream,
The crowds they roar,
The beast is hungry, wants more and more and more and more.
It’s blood is up, it’s seeing red,
Ready to crush all life and glorify the dead.

The grass is gone, the sand is red,
In England’s green and pleasant land,
The lust for times gone by,
Satiated on a gory bed.

Gotcha the headlines scream,
Celebrating the bloody end of youthful dreams.
Once more for Queen and country,
on and on and on and on a useless litany.
Of shattered hopes and endless lies,
shattered bodies and devastated lives.
Can’t we see they have no shame,
alive or dead for them its just a game.

Gotcha the crowds they roar,
the beast is hungry, wants more and more and more and more.
It’s blood is up, it’s seeing red,
ready to crush all life and glorify the dead.


ALL CHANGE YOUR MIND
Out of space out of time, out of my head hanging on a dead line.
Is it you not me or me not you, does it matter why or how or who.
Sitting on the floor with my sinful twin, riddled with guilt and a rictus grin.
Getting to the bottom from the top, down down not knowing where to stop.

Here we go again, all aboard the same strange old train again,
whistling in the wind, leave it all behind,
all change, all change your mind.

Lying in a skip with a broken brain, upside down nothing looks the same.
Chair’s on the ceiling, ceiling’s on the floor, going round the revolving door.
Flapping my arms to pick up speed, out of here is all I need.
There is no sound there is no space,
You have no voice you have no face.

Here we go again, all aboard the same strange old train again,
whistling in the wind, leave it all behind,
all change, all change your mind.


FLY
They say you never know what’s around the corner,
Ignorance is bliss before a fall.
The future stretching out on the road before you,
Then you find there’s nothing there at all.

People might have thought I’m crazy, if they had met you friend.
They will never know the bond that lasted right until the end.

Fly fly don’t even wonder why,
the finger of fate just poked you in the eye,
with a twitch of the hand you are history,
ashes to ashes dust to dust you’re just a memory.

They say that life it has no meaning,
but the end it justifies the means.
You may be gone but you’re not forgotten,
I’ll see you flying in my dreams.

Everybody has a love that dare not speak its name.
Since you’re gone I know my life can never be the same.

Fly fly don’t even wonder why,
We kill the things we love but you didn’t have to die,
Just a smudge on my hand and a teardrop in my eye,
Ashes to ashes dust to dust it’s just so hard to say goodbye.


DOESN’T JOHN LOOK NICE
That’s out boy they cried with joy
at the grand parade on pass out day,
they cheered and cried as their son marched by,
clapped their hands as the guns went bang.
Proud parents of an upright youth,
with starched white shirt and vacant eyes,
polished shoes where he could see himself,
if he could look down but he must stare ahead.

Doesn’t John look nice,
dressed up to kill,
in his uniform he looks so young,
doesn’t John look nice, doesn’t John look nice.

That’s my boy the sniper said,
and his smile was grim as he pulled the pin,
he kissed the metal just once for luck
and John looked up but much too late.
His stomach burst out through his shirt,
and looked like meat only much too red,
he would have screamed but he’d lost his face,
and his shining shoes lay beside his head.

Doesn’t John look nice,
dressed up to kill,
in his uniform he looks so young,
doesn’t John look nice, doesn’t John look nice.

That’s my boy his mother said,
as she looked at the mess on the marble slab,
how could they do this to him,
he looked so nice in his uniform.
We only wanted right for him,
a good career some dicipline,
and he looked so neat when he walked the streets,
in his khaki cap and his rosy cheeks.

GOLDIE
Lately been drinking, feel myself shrinking,
feel myself sinking into your world.
Lost in the darkness, drowning in silence,
till the song of the siren the emptiness fills.
Twisting and turning I’m lost in a yearning
for something that’s burning inside.
Chasing your shadow through deep and through shallow,
I follow you into the light.

Goldie Goldie,
you slip beneath the water, one of Neptune’s daughters.
Goldie Goldie,
I’ll always hold my breath for you, I’ll plumb the very depths for you.

Sunshine like laughter, ripples the water,
making life brighter when everything’s grey.
Watching the ceiling and the black hole approaching,
a flash of your colour takes me away.
Stripped to the skin I plunge myself in
to a world where everything’s new.
Wrapped round your body, our hearts disembodied,
go floating off into the blue.

Goldie Goldie,
you slip beneath the water, one of Neptune’s daughters.
Goldie Goldie,
I’ll always hold my breath for you, I’ll plumb the very depths for you.


WAITING ON THE KISS OF THE CHICKEN KING
Sitting in the armchair,
staring at the wall,
the fly upon the light bulb,
is witness to your fall.
The patch of damp approaching,
is your personal black hole,
as the goldfish goes round,
your head is swimming in her bowl.

You need to get a life, you need to get a laugh,
you need to get beyond the dead cat lying on the path.
I’m waiting on the ecstasy,
waiting on the fantasy,
waiting for the clouds to part and shed a little light on me.
Waiting for the cork to pop,
waiting for the bells to ring,
I’m waiting on the kiss of the chicken king.

The drums of war are beating,
on the streets outside your walls,
the flag waving patriots
are setting out their stalls.
You’re counting out the minutes,
as they crawl across the floor,
just waiting on the neighbors,
to come kicking in your door.
You need to get a life, you need to get a laugh,
you need to get beyond the dead cat that’s lying on your path

You need to get a life, you need to get a laugh,
you need to get beyond the dead cat lying on the path.
I’m waiting on the ecstasy,
waiting on the fantasy,
waiting for the clouds to part and shed a little light on me.
Waiting for the cork to pop,
waiting for the bells to ring,
I’m waiting on the kiss of the chicken king.

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