Lyrics MGMT – Inbetween The Liners
Text:
MGMT, 4 letters, 5 minds, 6th sense. Second Sight? Rock’n Roll is 50 years old, but we are still speaking in tongues. What would Aristotle mke of Wop Bop A Loo Bop? A Zen mantra for our Bam Boo times? ‘Expect the unexpected’ I heard — as any fools knows, usually impossible. 9 months, the pregnant portion of a year; spent in their company; hasn’t led me to deceive I know MGMT any better than anyone else. No tomes from me or type-tapping critics will reveal that. A 5 part puzzle beyond Rubik proportions for you to Twist & Shout to. Never mix stripes and spots we’re told. Ha. It’s actually a beautiful clash. Hell, here comes the Paisley & Polka-dot too. Watcha gonna do about it? Love it, of course! CONGRATULATIONS, their second long player is something precious. A Gift. To Lovers. To Others. For Sisters. For Brothers. To live to. To love to. To look at. To listen thru. Nine songs. Some Short Some Long. A shy-eyed journey thru the dichotomy of their lives thru their souls. Sunday Bacon for the Monday Generation.
IT’S WORKING: Love? Or Confusion? Reality? Contusion? Subterranea or Sub-fusion. The Quest begins.
SONG FOR DAN TREACY: A Man. A Mistery? A Saint? A Sod? Were we all made for this life? Some give, some receive. But Dan Treacy smiles.
FLASH DELIRIUM: The Natives go all Dance-hall Stomp as something strange in the water forces a Flash time Strobo-cop emanation of the will. Delusion Extrusion.
SIBERIAN BREAKS: A Pop Surf Opera, after the storm the loss of Ego. Breakers on the Beach. Hangin Ten with the Hodads. Distraction. Then Sandy Smiles as the Sun Squints its way. A new day. Cleansed. Ready. Surf’s up! Piss or pass the Pot.
SOMEONE’S MISSING: But Who? And Why? Just a thought? A feeling? Or a moment of doubt lying in wait? To refilling the gateway. The door. Consciousness. A lines.
I FOUND A WHISTLE: Hope. Reassurance. The bogey-man Triumph of the Plastic surf totem. The motion of Notions. Spells & potions.
BRIAN ENO: A Smile Sent out. A wink and & chuckle. The Mistery of time. The Air Traffic controller of ssSound and ssSpace and ssSubterfuge.
LADY DADA’S NIGHTMARE: The Mind falters. Questioning. Looking for answers. Lock-loop images stray into fluorescing cotton candy crimes. Impervious. Then, the Release. A Primal Scream for the How Generation. More DaDa than GaGa. More Drinking than Thinking. Less Arty than Party. Time takes a rain-check.
CONGRATULATIONS: The Half-arsed Hugs of routine celebrations. Realisations. Random Aging. A World in tatters? Glitter that matters? The hollow victory. And then Sleep.
