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MP3 Pussy Tourette - EP1

Dance Pop Oldies

8 MP3 Songs
ELECTRONIC: Dance, POP: with Electronic Production



Details:
Pussy Tourette – EP1

(only available as digital download through iTunes and other digital distributors)

1. Isn’t It Yesterday?
2. Happy is the Drug
3. My New Shoes
4. Why Not…?
5. Isn’t It Yesterday? (instrumental)
6. Happy is the Drug (instrumental)
7. My New Shoes (instrumental)
8. My New Shoes (clean version)


Keyboards: Bobo & Pussy Tourette.
Additional Production, Sequencing, and Mixing by:
LEO FRAPPIER, courtesy of BAYSOUNDS, San Francisco, CA 94112

Background Vocals: Sally Dana & Lilli Oldfield.

Background vocals on “Why Not…?”: Jo Carol.

Cover artwork: Louie Mandrapilias


Isn’t it Yesterday?

Words and Music: Pussy Tourette. Additional words: Steven Zetlan. Additional music: Bobo.


Do you ever get the feeling, when you’re walking all alone, that your body’s disconnected, and your mind is not your own? That the future’s too familiar, like a well-worn dollar bill, but the present is a mystery ‘cause it needs to happen still?

Isn’t it yesterday, when you tits were high as your brain was, honey?
Isn’t it yesterday, when you’d spread your legs and you’d take home money?
Isn’t it yesterday, when the days were short but the nights were sunny?
Isn’t it yesterday? I don’t know.

I was walking downtown; I was walking through the street. I had a fuel injected engine strapped to my feet. When I turned it on I went so damn fast I sent my mind into the future; my ass stayed in the past.
As I rocket through the ether I’m amazed by how it feels to be struck with future memories, progressiveness, and heels. For you see this in between place, we eventually pass through, not a thing stays in the closet; not a person, not a shoe.

(Chorus)

When I got to tomorrow I looked back on today, but I didn’t feel nostalgic in the ordinary way. Someone handed me some money - they said I’d won some big bet, but I had no recollection, ‘cause I hadn’t placed it yet.
I blinked and spoke a language that I didn’t understand. My lips were lush and juicy, but they weren’t worth a damn. It’s hard communicating, either verbally or by pen, with your ass in 1980 and your tits in 2010.

(Chorus)

I’m having misgivings in a world so unforgiving. How the hell can I remember when my fate I keep reliving? Here comes next week, when I get hired. There goes next month, when I get fired. More Jimmy Choos. The price of gas. Depressing news. My giant ass.

My memory lay before me, like a stain upon the past. I tried to slow my vision; my foot stuck on the gas. On my right I saw the hopeful, on my left I saw despair. Looming largely in my history was my giant derriere.
In the diner of my timeline, on the menu of my fate, there’s a retroactive glimmer of a future that I hate. I could choose tomorrow’s special, or the yesterday du jour, but a half a lifetime later I was always wanting more.


Happy is the Drug

Words and Music: Pussy Tourette. Additional Music: Bobo.


Bad moods always were vexing me, now happiness is fully perplexing me. All I know is the feeling I feel is so real… Must be the drug that I feel!

Come sit next to me, and swear to secrecy. I don’t know what it is, something just came over me. I felt a burst of joy, like on a Ferris Wheel, I was at the kitchen sink scrubbing a potato peel. I had the TV on and unexpectedly my mood improved, frankly it’s a mystery. Could be the soap I use, or TV’s sex-appeal, could be the full moon, or maybe it’s the drug that I feel.

Gonna leave it all up to me – I like the drug that I feel.
Gonna make you happy you’ll see – Happy is the drug that I feel.
Gonna take a couple of these – I like the drug that I feel.
Gonna put your troubles to sleep – I’m happy as the drug I feel.

Life was miserable, and in my heart a void that left me typically desolate and paranoid. I feared the President, I feared the state of war – I feared the build up of wax that’s on my kitchen floor. My doctor, he said to me, only yesterday, “Take these – wait a week – everything will go away.” But after just one pill I felt my senses reel. Am I optimistic or am I just the drug that I feel?

(Chorus)

Bad moods always were vexing me, now happiness is fully perplexing me. All I know is the feeling I feel is so real… Must be the drug that I feel!

And now the things I’d like to do are inexplicable, when making breakfast I felt so unpredictable. Let’s catch a butterfly and just let it go, then share with everyone all the joy I think I know. Your daddy could use a few, but he’ll refuse to take, so we’ll just crush them up, put them in the Shake and Bake – and in the mayonnaise, and in the chamomile – it’ll be fantastic when he feels the drug that I feel.

(Chorus)


My New Shoes

Words and Music: Pussy Tourette. Additional music: Bobo.


Could be the war was a bore or the good book a chore, clearly something did disturb me. Refusing to read from the script I said, “No,” with my lips and then someone finally heard me. Maybe the light was just right or the old ones too tight, but I simply had to take it. And sooner or later their on and the sadness is gone ‘cause my feet, they aren’t naked anymore.

My new shoes… Now my load’s not heavy anymore!

Why doesn’t joy seem to last? Oh how quickly it past, once again I feel forsaken. Or did my God want them back? I feel under attack – my last breath someone has taken. Maybe the heel was all wrong or the color too strong, I feel apt to justify this. But clearly I’ve met my demise when I soon realize that I can’t demystify this anymore.

My new shoes… Now my load’s not heavy anymore!

She was a wide eyed girl with a pension for bringin’ the blues. First she went and fucked it up with apple, and now she took my shoes. And the soles were red, and the heels were green, they were the finest shoes that you’ve ever seen.

Estos son mis zapatos... Por que te los llevastes ? No eran tuyos! Donde están mis zapatos ? Mi vida. mi corazón, mis zapatos.

Somehow my life will go on, like a beauty salon I will take the next appointment. Then I will undo the burn I received from the perm, I will be the healing ointment. Maybe with time to reflect this will all feel correct, like the answer to a prayer put neatly and squarely in rhyme we can find the sublime, and we won’t walk barefoot anymore.

Why Not…?

Words and Music: Pussy Tourette. Additional music: Bobo. Recorded in 1993.


Remember? You brought me to the dance, the night was pure romance,
while couples moved in closer, you sir
took me by the hand, we sat behind the band
and quick exchanged a kiss.
Remember? You said we''d have to wait, it''s only our first date
and that you hardly know me. Slowly
you walked me to the door, you never asked for more
why did you have to go? Why don''t you?

I''m naked now beneath my dress and sending out an S.O.S.
If you could see my blushing breast I know that you would acquiesce.
Hey, fill me up like a cup, and with a kiss I know that I could stir it up.
You know I think it''s rude to tease me while I''m in the mood, so why not phuque me?

Remember? You called me on the phone, you said you were alone
and that you really miss me - kiss me.
You thought of me all night, still it wasn''t right,
and that we''d have to wait. Why don''t you?

Upon the floor or in the hay, though some my find it declasse
but I don''t care what people say I want your fat ass anyway.
Hey, chastity is boring me so drop your pants and let''s forget nobility.
You know I think it''s rude to tease me while I''m in the mood, so why not phuque me?

Remember? You finally had your way, you put my fears at bay.
Remember last December?
And though your love is gone a memory lingers on
that makes me want to say. Why don''t you?

Upon the floor or in the hay, though some my find it declasse
but I don''t care what people say I want your fat ass anyway.
Hey, fill me up like a cup, then lay me down and love my precious bubble butt.
You know I think it''s rude to tease me while I''m in the mood
and if you want some privacy I''m sure that Pussy won''t intrude.
Hey, three heads are better than one and the night is still young so let''s have us some fun.
So, come on baby, come on baby, why not phuque me?


Special Thanks To: Sally and Lilli for their support and talent. Sleeve, for 20 years of friendship (and as many crazy little songs). Javier, for the giving me the right translation (if only I had paid attention). Kate, for her encouragement and the brainstorming sessions over all-you-can eat crab legs. Louie, for the artwork. Thanks, Friend! Danny, for singing along and more crazy little songs. Anita (I miss you), for the jazz, cookies, and inspiration, and to Robbie, for letting me be a small part of such an amazing woman’s life. Bobo, and Leo, for their patience and talent. My sister, Lisa, for her encouragement and support. And my Mom, for having the most fabulous wigs, shoes, and dresses in her closet when I was growing up.

Dedicated to the memory of Jo Carol - Block

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