Share Your Toys

by Gavin Osborn

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credits

released April 12, 2015

Thanks to:
Vinnie and Mark from My Little Owl Records and The Mini Skips.
MJ Hibbett .Grace Petrie. Tour buddies and mega-legends.
Daniel Kitson. Alun Cochrane. For unwittingly letting me use songs from our shows as these absolutely huge album tracks. I hope I haven’t devalued our brands.
John and Paul for making the album. (Ringo and George were unavailable).
My family and friends. Especially the best ones: Amy, Humph and Bert.

This album was recorded in the summer, in my house on Newbridge Road, Bath.
So thanks to my neighbours too, I guess.

Mastered by Gareth Price-Lewis at Chatterbox Audio

Gavin Osborn – vocals, guitar
John Hare – piano, trumpet and backing vocals
Paul Hodson – bass guitar, backing vocals

tags

license

all rights reserved
Track Name: Roger's Inventing Again
Well he stands so tall in the hardware store, with a faraway look on his face
Looks around, like Doctor Emmett Brown, but you never know what he’s gonna buy
An old workbench, a monkey wrench, a torch and a bicycle chain
Word gets around, in this little town, that Roger’s inventing again
Yeah yeah. Uh-huh.
His shoes on the ground make a flip-flop sound, like the Chinaman in Cannery Row
And his shirt is spoiled, with dirt and oil, he’s forgotten more than we’ll ever know
Hornby railway set, an old football net, a vacuum hose he imported from Spain
You can see through the cracks, in his shed out back, that Roger’s inventing again
Yeah yeah. Uh-huh
But Roger’s never said a word, since his time machine failed
And he wanted to travel the world, but the ship he made out of pub ashtrays never sailed, so Roger’s inventing again.
He fixed my car so sweet, just the other week, so it doesn’t need any fuel
And look at Sue and Jim, going for a swim, in their waterproof swimming pool
There’s a man next door who’s never smiled before, now he’s laughing just like a drain
It’s been a ten year wait, but it sure feels great, to see Roger inventing again
Yeah-yeah. Uh-huh.
Everyone here’s got theory, but nobody here’s got a clue
And the only thing that we know for sure, is that we don’t know what he’s gonna do
Out in the street, all the people meet, all the men they wait in the rain
As do all the girls when they hear those words, Roger’s inventing again
Yeah yeah. Uh-huh.
Track Name: And Still They Move
Carl returned to his hotel room, opened the door, threw his keys down on the floor
Fell right back into bed, on an uncomfortable mattress, blinking red just to his right, was the answer-machine light
He pressed play on the machine, there she was excitedly, playing a song called ‘Flowing Stream’, an ancient Chinese tune, filling his cheap hotel room
and it was the perfect track, so he called his colleague back, their code finally cracked, and their Voyage had begun
She said “The sound of a kiss, will travel, beyond the heliosphere
And if we send them Jonny B Goode, well I can already hear the cheer
The chances of anyone finding it, are one in a million”
And he said “No”...”Billions and billions”
Everything moved, Everything moved, And at the end of that phone call they knew
That on our tiny world, for just a few moments, In the immensity of time
They were one, Eureka
Voyager 1 and Voyager 2, they will never return, from Jupiter or Saturn
Moving through interstellar space, the space between the stars
Where the best stuff always occurs, even right back here on Earth
and those gold records they deserve, their one chance to be heard, Stravinsky and Mozart, the sound of a human heart, thunder earthquakes and lightning, oh to hear a blackbird sing, tractors and a car horn, a mum’s first words to her unborn, all of our different languages, and if they get bored of this, they can always fall back on, the Chuck Berry
She said “I love you so much I want to record the impulses in my brain
And send those waves of love, into space
The chances of finding love like this are one in a million
And he said “No, actually billions and billions”
Her brainwaves, no word of a lie, sound like a string of exploding fireworks
One glorious minute in time, of a 27-year-old woman totally in love
And if you can’t fall in love, making a mix tape for the universe
Then you can’t fall in love, not ever
‘Cos the beauty of a living thing is not the atoms that go into it
It’s the way those atoms are put together
What greater might, do we humans possess, than the ability to question and to learn from all the best things, we’ve accomplished here so far, so far from other stars, by sending out a piece of us, into the great cosmos, sending heartbeats into the black, we’re finally giving something back, ‘cos we may have been to the moon, and planted all our flags, our telescopes take photographs, our robot footprints leave their mark, but that gold record’s who we are, those brainwaves among the stars
And still they move, And still they move
Two revolving records of proof, That on our tiny world, for just a few seconds
In the immensity of time, They were one, Two were one, Eureka
Track Name: Let Me Down Gently
I’ve been blown up, many times before, but I think this is gonna be the last time
You’re all grown up, don’t need me no more, I guess you need a bigger sleeping partner
Removal men are picking up the sofa, goodbye old friend I guess that it’s all over
The tenancy has run out on the love you lent me, so let me down gently
When I feel flat you give me oxygen, and then you suck the life right out of me
I got feelings, you made me feel cheap, when you put me in the lounge with all the ashtrays
I know I’m just a lilo, that much I know
I know I’m supposed to lie low, and just watch you go
But I’ll be handed down to charity and you will just forget about me
I’ll have a new home next to hand-me-downs, and you’ll have a new home in a nearby town
Well your friends snore and smell of stale beer, but at least they paid some more attention to me
I’ve been let down many times before, but I know this is gonna be the last time
Track Name: I'll Take It From Here
I don’t occupy buildings I don’t start campaigns,
I write rhyming couplets in tiny cafes, It’s your job to get out and make it all happen
It’s up to me to sing songs by Tracy Chapman
As innocent prisoners sat in Burmese jails, Amnesty tried, and Amnesty failed
I write one protest song then months later they’re free. Coincidence? Maybe?
No, it was all down to me
You’ve rattled the walls but I’ll raise the roof
‘Cos governments fall, with four chords and the truth
Relax revolutionaries, no need to fear
Thanks for your effort, but I’ll take it from here
I’ll take it from here
Bolsheviks, Castro even Mao Tse Tung
Without folk singers they’d have got nothing done
And don’t get me started on the Arab Spring
No-one paid attention, ‘til I started to sing
When gay marriage passed, bankers’ bonuses gone
You can guarantee it was ‘cos I sang a song
And I hope kettling tactics are here to stay
Now you’re all contained, there’s no getting away
As Britain was raging with riots and looting
I sang No Woman No Cry to the people of Luton
Then I hopped on the train to save the town of Bedford
With my outstanding Twist & Shout La Bamba medley
Flyposter the rally, arrange all the marches,
I’ll stay at home, listening to the Archers
And when you are struggling to tear down the wall,
You won’t be alone, if you give me a call
At every protest, all the streets are rammed, But is this the best place to be heard?
Maybe I should sing ‘I Am What I Am’ outside Westboro Baptist Church
Hotel California in a B&B, At a ‘no petting’ pool, Prince’s Kiss
They’d both be better, I think you’ll agree, Than Fuck The Police outside Smiths
Rage Against the Machine, in a fully functional lift
If you know what you want or if you’re not sure yet
It doesn’t matter; I’ve got a song for it
Singing protest songs is certainly worth it
Even though I’m preaching ...to the converted
They may all look the same, all of those little boxes
Ticky-tacky they may be, but the paradox is
To change the system and to spread the word
You need the system, to make yourself heard
Downtrodden, downhearted, outnumbered, oppressed
Give me a guitar, I’ll take care of the rest
From Tahrir Square to Petrograd and North Korea
Thanks for your efforts, I’ll take it from here
Track Name: Another Bath With You
According to Cosmo, it’s just as sexy as a skinny dip
Good for your relationship, a bastion of bliss
But now my back’s against the hot tap, and I know they told you that the scalp
Was an untapped erogenous zone, let me tell you...they were wrong
You’re trapped between my legs, squeezed like a business executive’s
Stress-relieving tennis ball, covered head to toe in oil
Peppermint and pomegranate, grape seeds and jojoba
Were never meant to be one scent, what the hell’s jojoba?
Is this some kind of joke, when did we stop using soap,
That magazine came with free cream, meant for massaging my earlobes
But who drinks wine in the tub, holding a handful of salt scrub
While giving sensual head rubs, with an electric toothbrush?
And I hope, that it shows, just how much I love you
But I don’t, ever want another bath with you
They say “chillax, go with the flow” but that candle’s burning near my robe
And there’s carpeting in here, I’m seeing fire hazards everywhere
Can’t you just massage yourself? My knees are wedged under the bath shelf,
It‘s not heaven this is hell, and I can’t reach the shower gel
Sade’s on the iPod, with Morcheeba and Massive Attack
If this is the cost of bathing, I want my 96p back
I should be excited, but it’s just my hackles rising
‘Cos it’s a bathroom not the Nineties, at The Ministry of Sound
And we miscalculated, our water to weight ratio.
Climbing in behind you I caused an overflow
And now here we are pretending, that we hope it’s never-ending
Both secretly concerned, mould on the tiles is getting worse
Let’s leave the issue of deep tissue, to a trained therapist
As knots in our shoulders tighten, thinking of TV we’ve missed
We’d get out, But we’re stuck, And there’s an imprint of a plastic duck
On my left butt-cheek, Let’s never speak of this again
Track Name: Survival Of The Fastest
Here’s a story I like about two hikers, from the human race
Under the desert sun, nearly frying
When they felt sure they heard a roar, then came face-to-face
With a hungry, salivating, mountain lion
Quick as a flash, one man took off his backpack
And took out some running shoes to replace his hiking boots
The other man looked down, and said with a frown
“There’s no point even trying, you can’t outrun a lion”
The first man stood up, having laced his running shoes
And said “I don’t have to outrun a lion, I just have to outrun you”
So the moral and the lesson, that this tale can teach us
Is forget the competition, just beware of your own species.
Track Name: Adam Woodyatt
If you heard his voice on the radio, you’d be like “That’s familiar but I don’t know him, I don’t know his name” - That’s the perfect kind of fame
He’s omnipresent but invisible, a TV deity who knows it all but never makes a scene
In any of his scenes
Never taken to the stage to milk the applause but he’s been nominated for 2 British Soap Awards, and never won, that’s not how he gets things done
We’ve known him since he was a boy and we should acknowledge his loyalty
Can you imagine how it feels, being Ian Beale?
From 1985, Through all your working life
When the only thing you really want to be good at is being Adam Woodyatt
Like tight-knit family and good friends it’s sometimes hard to know where Ian Beale starts and Adam Woodyatt ends, it’s enough to drive you round the bend
Is Adam just a name he made up in a dream, ‘cos everywhere he goes people call him Ian off Eastenders, there’s no way to end this
Through him we can mark our lives, through Beales Wheels and his four wives
He’s been there when we’ve been alone on over two thousand episodes
We have known him since he was a boy, and we should acknowledge his loyalty
Track Name: Pick A Team
To the casual observer, I’m your average, hulking football-playing meathead
Size, strength, athleticism all wrapped up with a photogenic bow
There was a time when that was all it took, to get attention from cheerleaders
These days I play to empty stadiums, there are no cheerleaders left to see me throw
And I threw everything I had, to make you see past all the laptops and the glasses
As you sat with the cool kids; gamers, mathletes, birdwatchers, historians
On the field I was the quarterback, hurling sixty-five yard passes
But in school no-one looks at Superman, they’re far more interested in Clark Kent
I bought a motorbike, but you didn’t look twice
At me when I was leaning on it, looking like a God
You wouldn’t talk to me, so rather awkwardly
I knew beyond reason, it was time for the even to get odd
Pick a team, just pick a team. All you said to me was, pick a team
So I got frameless specs, a cardigan, and quoted sections from the work of Tolkien
But you laughed behind your hand, when I saw you in the library that day
During Science class I stood and recited the Prime Directive, all in Vulcan
Wrote “Photosynthesis is Phun” on walls, I even spelled the Fun with a P.H.
I pitted Marvel against DC comics, learnt to build 16K ZX Spectrums
Sent love letters, poured my heart out to you, exclusively in binary code
But your friends called me a faker, a pretender; my advances were rejected
I was a nobody, an outsider, so I went back to playing football on my own
I sold my motorbike, but you didn’t look twice
At me I as retreated into being who I was
Pretending to be, in the World Series, Hitting the home run of the season
There was simply no more reason to get odd
Pick a team, pick a team, all you said to me was, pick a team
So one night you came to meet me on the pitch, and in the rain
But instead I played a message to you on the Jumbo screen (and I said)
“While you host NASA role-play games, oh-so-realistic
I pour over Sergei Federov’s ice-hockey statistics
In my fantasy world, I embrace my outcast status
Collect NFL passing yards facts and interceptions data
Alone, I throw footballs through the tyres of a car
As alone, you wonder who would win, between Kirk and Picard
And while I may not understand cascades from Kinase receptors
I know stereotyping is the only thing that’s kept us
From seeing similarities between so-called geeks and jocks
Where I see Peyton Manning, you see Dr Spock
I know how to use technology, but you really understand it
Still we’re swimming in the same space on a Venn Diagram
Where intelligence and obsession, meets social ineptitude
I may not be a Whovian, but there’s no need to be rude
I’ve thrown my Nerd t-shirt into the trash
But if you can’t see that my knowledge and my craft
Is equal to your own, then that’s just daft
Go fuck yourself and your knowledge of Schrodinger
If that’s success, I don’t wanna be a winner”
I picked a team, I picked a team, just like you said, I picked a team
You’ve got Berners-Lees, Zuckerbergs, Sinclairs, Teslas don’t forget Bill Gateses
You picked your team you won. Well done, congratulations, it’s the end
You’re Gordon Gecko with html code, instead of power-braces
Still it turns out that you liked me after all, you just had a boyfriend.
Track Name: Maybe Tomorrow
There’s a reason to start a revolution, on every news bulletin
But though there’s something compelling me, there’s something else telling me to stay in
I could chain myself up outside the House of Commons, Or write to my MP
But I’ve got to do the weekly shopping, And the house could do with a clean
So Maybe Tomorrow I’ll go on the News At Ten
Maybe I’ll overthrow the government
But someone’s gonna have to feed the fish, And there’s a great TV show that I’ll miss
If I start a revolution today, And I don’t own my own red star beret
And if free speech is being suppressed, I’ll probably have to go swimming
And when old men are getting beaten up in the street
I’d look up and help but my iPhone’s losing battery
And though dictatorships control the world’s economic plans
I can’t miss my appointment with the British Gas man,
it’s as tricky as the 13th mission for Apollo
So I guess I’m gonna make a difference maybe tomorrow
Track Name: Dear Stranger
Emptying the shopping, from her recycled bag
She found a tattered envelope, Between the toilet roll and the bleach
Inside it was a letter, written in red biro, So she read it, aloud to herself
“Dear Stranger, I am sorry, if this comes out all wrong I really promise
I don’t mean to offend you, But when you walk in the supermarket, and you pick up one of our shopping baskets, I feel like you are meant for me. I think you’re lovely, my heart is jumpy as I check barcodes on your buy one get one free.
Seeing you, always makes my day. And I’m the man who served you today.
I put this letter in your bag when I gave you change. I think of you when I’m on my night-shift stacking, I always help you with your packing, I know that you feel the pressure of people behind you in the queue. I understand, I feel that way too.
I know I’m sticking my neck out and I love it whenever you choose my checkout
But I’m not just the man on the till I’m a chef. Well at least I should be. I did a six-week course in cookery and I’d really like to cook for you. You know my smile. I’ve seen you catch it. You know my name because we wear them on our badges.
I just call you supermarket lady. I promise, you won’t miss out. I’ll make sure you can use my ten-percent discount. But if you don’t want to, I will understand. I will see you soon. Anyway, this letter may have been a big mistake. And if you don’t feel the same I get it. But please pretend you never read it. I’ll try and keep my feelings back in, and always help you with your packing. Love Gavin. p.s. you really should get a Nectar card”.
And when she’d finished reading, she put the letter on her bookshelf
And made the assumption that it was meant for someone else.
Track Name: In Another Lifetime
Before you were born I played accordion on a roundabout in East Dulwich, and made 47 pence, Your Mum fell asleep on the 176 nightbus, and ended up in a depot in Penge. I pretended to be a fireman come to fix a fridge in Malta. Your Mum had a birthday party that was hotter than the sun, and everyone began to boil, Cos she covered the house in kitchen foil. For my birthday she made me a treasure hunt, starting in bed and spreading all over London. Then one time I got drunk and threw prawns behind my Dad’s fridge. Then forgot and went to Poland for a month
In another lifetime, In another lifetime, in another lifetime, in another life
Your Mum was on Eastenders as a doctor. And when I dressed as Mr Wobbly Man people watched as I rolled down the stage onto a drum kit,, crashing into the orchestra pit. Your Mum drove all the way to Warsaw in a van. I broke the little finger on my right hand. I bought a hamster to try and impress a girl in Canterbury. And it worked.
Your Mum fell off a bike trying to impress a boy she liked, who bought her The Bodyguard on VHS. He wasn’t impressed. And we don’t recommend watching The Bodyguard. I had a hernia operation on my nutsack. Your Mum made costumes for West End shows, cycling there and back, She made animal doorstops and sausage dogs for strangers, I had a byline once in the Hitchin Gazette pages
I did magic mushrooms but it was accidental, I thought it was soup, and it made me go mental. Your Mum pierced her belly button, changed her surname, and even piloted a bi-plane. Now we’re running round picking up toys and bits of train track,
You slip and trip , we run for plasters, pack your school bag. You sing songs from Frozen in the car, As our friends climb Kilimanjaro. As they samba-dance on Brazilian beaches, We check sell-by dates on your tin of peaches. And it’s exhausting and joyful and brilliant like it should be, and we wouldn’t change it for a single second. But I once mooned my friend underwater in Sydney and your Mum almost played pro-Netball. Before you were born we danced to jazz in Paris clubs and your Mum wrote a song about a dinosaur. Which frustratingly for me was really very good indeed, and I’ve been living in its shadow ever since. I broke my collarbone playing football. That’s why I don’t play professionally. That’s literally the only reason. I was a visionary. Like a young Jan Molby. I swam in wild rivers in my pants, Your mum was a great Irish dancer. Before your kids are born you’ll do far more than this, and create your own stories to tell. But don’t feel like you have to tell us all about it, after all it’s a long way away, such a terribly long way away, it’s in another lifetime.
Track Name: Closing Montage
The sky is so blue, cloudy and grey, As sunshine beats down, so does the rain
All our hopes and our dreams and our grass so green, Happiness so full of tragedy
I’ve never seen, anyone so beautiful, and so disfigured, or so young or old
You broke my heart, then you mended it and died, Then you were born,
Too hot and too cold
And I want you to live forever. And I hate you so much right now
And I love the way you look at me. Even though we’re both blind
I’m a high school jock; I’m a mum of two
I’m a grandfather with Alzheimer’s; I’m a murderer with a heart of gold
I’m a lawyer taking his last case. And I long for your embrace
Over this Closing Montage, playing at minute thirty-nine
Closing Montage, guaranteed to make you cry, especially when my voice goes high
There must be an angel smiling down on me, or a devil, crying in the corner
My life is brilliant and my love is pure. My life couldn’t get any worse right now
And look, there’s a happy family, As a car crash injures a teenage girl
And a kid makes his first catch, of the baseball season
Two lovers kissing at a bus stop, reminds me of when I shot a cop
Accidentally changing, all our lives for good and bad and good and bad and happy and sad and happy and sad
Just in case the lyrics don’t match the picture
Something multi-purpose really needs to fit here, over a kiss, something like this...
I’ve got the key to your heart, I’ve got the key to your heart
If you’ve seen it on a show then I guarantee I wrote it
If you think it sounds generic, that’s what I intended