Your Favourite Bird Just Went Extinct.

by The Cambrian Explosion

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released September 25, 2010

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The Cambrian Explosion Melbourne, Australia

The Cambrian Explosion is a dynamic entity comprising multi-instrumentalists Rohan Long, Simon Long and Jem Savage.

Originating in Melbourne as a traditional three-piece in 2009, the band has produced and released three original albums.

Their third full-length album, Marine Theology, is an oceanic theme album encompassing sea ballads, invertebrate messiahs and a giant squid revenge shanty.
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Track Name: Baby It Hurts Me So Bad - Part I
Baby, it hurts me so bad, when you don’t call me, on the telephone.
I guess it’s not so bad, ‘cause each time the phone rings, I feel that cancer growing in my head.
Track Name: How Many Weeks Have We Been On This Boat?
The captain said “Limestone ahead!”, inward we tread, filling with dread. Bury the dead, bury the dead. Over their head, orange and red. Show me the way to Port Phillip Bay, lead me astray, land in Torquay. Carried away, carried away, keep them at bay, sting them with rays.

How many days have we been on this boat? Tell me what fills your head as we all start to choke, and what goes through your mind as you reach for my throat, tell me why? Aye, aye, aye. How many weeks have we been here on deck, tell me where is the land, where’s that long distant speck? Tell me who put this albatross around my neck, tell me why? Aye, aye, aye.

What kind of man won’t curse his hand when Van Diemen’s Land is changing your plans? Taking a stand, taking a stand. Taking the land, raking the sand. Thylacine bones furnish our homes, seal fat and stones repay our loans. Who will atone? Who will atone? History’s shown we were alone.

Heading inland, basalt and sand. Using our hands, tired and tanned. Rivers be damned, rivers be dammed. Isn't it grand, marching the band. Rumours of gold from friends of old. Ballarat’s sold, covered in mould. Do as you’re told, do as you’re told. Getting so cold as we get old.
Track Name: Four Beats To The Bar
There are so many ways you can get it wrong with this kind of thing; don’t let the drummer ruin the beat, don’t let the singer name the CD. Four beats to the bar, four beats to the bar. Get it on radio.

There are two paths ahead if you play in a band and you must pick one; play something simple, straight and contrived, or play something different no one will like. Four beats to the bar, four beats to the bar. Get it on radio.

I won’t bitch, if you wish you can play to the crowd – at least it pays well. But don’t let your voice ruin the melody, don’t trust guitarists that sleep with celebrities. Four beats to the bar, four beats to the bar, get it on radio.

So we’ve written a song – one with nice melodies and standard syllabic structure. But don’t let your band play things predictable just in the hope of scoring a hit single. Four beats to the bar, four beats to the bar, play this on radio.

Please?
Track Name: I Just Wanna Play Another Song On My Concertina
The politicians cannot think, you’re uncle’s life was too succinct. Your favourite bird just went extinct, there’s cancer in your favourite drink.
You've torn a hole in all your pants, we can’t hunt any elephants. They've outlawed all herbaceous plants, your mother was consumed by ants.

But I just wanna play another song on my concertina. I just wanna hit that last note as the sun goes supernova. I just wanna play another song as vermilion oceans boil. I just wanna hit that last note as the sun goes supernova.

The insects staged a bloodless coup, they've put your family in the zoo. Computers are more smart than you, you cannot find your missing shoe. Half empty glasses line your bar, delinquent youths have torched your car. You’ll never be a movie star, we’re unattractive and sub-par.

The atmosphere will soon explode from total toxic overload. The mountain ranges will erode, the precious metals will corrode.
You've probably got a rare disease, we can’t make money grow on trees. The ice-caps soon will cease to freeze, your father was attacked by bees.
Track Name: No-one Believes Me
I was brought on board a flying saucer ship. I was probed and scanned, woke up in a ditch.

No-one believes me, nobody takes me seriously. I’m starting to doubt myself. No-one believes me.

I’ve invented cars that run on H2O. They got stolen by petrol CEOs.

I’ve been touched by god. I’m quite sure of it. I saw Jesus’ face in a potato chip.
Track Name: Kitty
Kitty, shoot the puppy, hold it’s head high and laugh in your sweet way.
Tell me what I’m thinking, won’t be drinking any more champagne.

Kitty, what do you think about? Kitty, tell me to get out now.

Kitty, in the morning you look like hot cinnamon.
City air’s like honey, inhale the chlorinated sky, then Kitty says goodbye.
Track Name: Mudpuppy
Little mudpuppy, do you use your axe a lot? Or do you leave it at home, sitting there and left to rot?

Little mudpuppy defeat all those who wronged you. Turn into a man like the fiery salamander.

Neoteny, monotony. Eternity in infancy.

There’s too many extras in this retro shopping land. Take the spoon and hellbend it into something you can stand.

Fill my gills with dead-air till I’m eating from your hand. Up is down and night is day as I swim through the sand.
Track Name: Morning Song
Darling, trust in me and I’ll be around. Morning, morning song, spiral around. I know you have to get up in the morning, it’s dawning in unceasing tones. My comprehension of even the mention awakens, I’m feeling alone.

I know, let go, I know.

Silence radiates with four open eyes. Science must be done but what wasted time. I’m at Newmarket station but my inclination has fallen asleep in your room. My understanding is quickly abandoned as coffee appears in my view.

I know, let go, I know.

Sunlight forces our eyes, one more subconscious time.
Track Name: Baby It Hurts Me So Bad - Part II
Baby, it hurts me so bad, when you don’t call me, on the telephone.
I guess it’s not so bad, ‘cause each time the phone rings, I feel that cancer growing in my head.

Maybe the things that I say won’t change a thing no matter what I think about myself and maybe I should be listening.
Because one day you might have something that’s interesting to say.
Track Name: Turn That Music Off!
Turn that music off, turn it off.
Now is not the time, how can you not tell?
I wanted to leave when you asked me to.
Now I’m unprepared – but mostly glad.

You joined a cargo cult of atonal boys.
But watch the pianola roll, player piano.
Unveil the emperor’s new clothes, is it getting cold?
Spare me, spare me just this once: turn that music off.

I don’t want to start a fight, or to be abrupt.
But I can’t take one second more, I've got to interrupt.
Why don’t you focus on your strengths? You really should have stopped.
I don’t want to debate, just turn that music off.

Am I being unreasonable? Is it really that hard to realise that this static you’re projecting is just worthless, degenerate noise? I've been biting my tongue for so long, I've been numbed by this white noise disco. I’m just finding myself paralysed as to why you won’t turn all this off. If you want to hear melodies, try any other song in the world. What’s the point of technology if you can’t even play just one chord? What a forum of stagnation, oblivious to all the freaks with the balls to make music that isn't dependent on E.

Turn that music off!