albummaster
Janitor
Gender: Male
Location: Spain
Site Admin
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- #1
- Posted: 02/28/2015 21:00
- Post subject: Album of the day (#1552): Setting Sons by The Jam
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Today's album of the day
Setting Sons by The Jam (View album | Buy this album)
Year: 1979.
Country: 
Overall rank: 738
Average rating: 78/100 (from 135 votes).
Thumbnail. Click to enlarge.
Tracks:
1. Girl On The Phone
2. Thick As Thieves
3. Private Hell
4. Little Boy Soldiers
5. Wasteland
6. Burning Sky
7. Smithers-Jones
8. Saturday's Kids
9. The Eton Rifles
10. Heatwave
About album of the day: The BestEverAlbums.com album of the day is the album appearing most prominently in member charts in the previous 24 hours. If an album, or artist, has previously been selected within a x day period, the next highest album is picked instead (and so on) to ensure a bit of variety. A full history of album of the day can be viewed here.
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CellarDoor
Shoe-Punk Loner
Gender: Male
Age: 38
Location: Marseille
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- #3
- Posted: 03/01/2015 09:42
- Post subject:
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Early post-punk favorite. Great lyrics !
"Private Hell" is one of the best :
| Quote: | Closer than close, you see yourself,
A mirrored image, of what you wanted to be.
As each day goes by, a little more,
You can't remember, what it was you wanted anyway.
The fingers feel the lines, they prod the space,
Your aging face, the face that once was so beautiful,
Is still there but unrecognizable,
Private hell.
The man who you once loved, is bald and fat,
And seldom in, working late as usual.
Your interest has waned, you feel the strain,
The bed springs snap, on the occasions he lies upon you,
Close your eyes and think of nothing but,
Private hell.
Think of Emma, wonder what she's doing,
Her husband terry, and your grandchildren.
Think of Edward, who's still at college,
You send him letters, which he doesn't acknowledge.
cause he don't care,
They don't care.
cause they're all going through their own - private hell.
The morning slips away, in a Valium haze,
And catalogs, and numerous cups of coffee.
In the afternoon, the weekly food,
Is put in bags, as you float off down the high street
The shop windows reflect, play a nameless host,
To a closet ghost, a picture of your fantasy,
A victim of your misery, and private hell
Alone at 6 o'clock, you drop a cup,
You see it smash, inside you crack,
You can't go on, but you sweep it up
Safe at last inside your private hell.
Sanity at last inside your private hell. |
_________________
I'll be your plastic toy.
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