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about

It's not really about 1988.

It's about now.

lyrics

Words:

Nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
There’s no escape from nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
There’s no escape from nineteen eighty-eight

Another Martin Amis moment
An itch that someone’s got to scratch
Pouring petrol on your neighbours
Praying someone’s got a match
Sometimes it taps you on shoulder
Sometimes smacks you in the face
Feel its hot breath on your neck
It’s nineteen eighty-eight

Nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
There’s no escape from nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
Another hot date with nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
There’s no escape from nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
There’s no escape from nineteen eighty-eight

Well, you pretended to be Buddhists
A classic Portobello scam
Then you pretended to be poor
A joke that ran and ran and ran
You called tax a Ponzi scheme
Putting knickers on the nanny state
Oh! The tales you told yourself
In nineteen eighty-eight

Nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
There’s no escape from nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
Another hot date with nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
You can’t escape from nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
There’s no escape from nineteen eighty-eight

And in the office of statistics
A great new cancer tops the charts
We’re putting twelve per cent on biscuits
So we can slash the price of art
And if we like your chequered cheekbones
We might hang you in the Tate
Let’s kick this mother into life
It’s nineteen eighty-eight

Nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight
There’s no escape from nineteen eighty-eight
Nineteen eighty-eight

credits

from Bitter Lemon, released October 2, 2020
Written by Huw Darling.

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all rights reserved

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The Chickpea Darlings image

The Chickpea Darlings Letchworth Garden City, UK

'Riot' has OFFICIALLY left the building. Thanks, Darrin.

The Darlings: Middle-aged bedroom miserablists with C86-ish tendencies, The Chickpea Darlings have seen the future and don't care for the cut of its jib. Their dry-as-a-biscuit pop vignettes provide the perfect soundtrack for speculating on the madness to come. Viva Donald Trump, global warming & the death of democracy. Viva the Darlings. ... more

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