Small World

by The Young Lions

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  • Digital Album

    Immediate download of 11-track album in your choice of 320k mp3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.

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1.
04:07
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2.
02:29
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3.
02:47
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4.
03:04
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5.
03:20
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6.
02:42
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7.
02:57
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8.
03:23
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9.
03:55
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10.
02:12
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11.
03:57
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about

"Small World" was the Young Lions' final recording, a series of songs based on Charles Jackson's novel 'The Lost Weekend'. Most of the eleven pieces were composed in a single day-long session in the studio of Oktopus, on the Keizersgracht in Amsterdam sometime in september 1980."Small World" was performed only once, on october 22nd 1980, as part of the weekly 'Ultra' concerts, also in Oktopus, Amsterdam. These are the live recordings that were made of that particular performance.
"Small World" was originally released as a limited edition cassette album by the Amsterdam 'Link Tapes'.

The digital album download includes the original cassette art-work, concert poster ánd the - extremely rare - black and white video footage of the band playing the opening track, 'Like the dreaded sunday', that evening in Oktopus.

credits

released 01 January 1981
Tim Benjamin, Ronald Heiloo, Peter Mertens, Harold Schellinx, Rob Scholte

tags

tags: experimental alternative elecro-acoustic post-experimental post-punk ultra

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all rights reserved

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Track Name: Like the dreaded sunday
the windows were blue-white. was it early morning? or evening? i lay watching the panes between the curtains and wondered if they would whiten into daylight or thicken into dusk. i wondered what time it was, what day. had i been sleeping all night, or all night and all the next day? there was no way of telling till the light had changed outside, for better or worse. if it were evening, thank christ. i could go out. but if morning - i lay watching the panes between the curtains and wondered if they would whiten into daylight or thicken into dusk. i feared to find out. for if it was morning, dawn, i would be cut off till nine or after and so made to suffer the punishment i always promised myself to avoid.
Track Name: Neat little tower
i thought of the money. it was a laugh, a laugh, all right. shoving it away, all these days. into my outside breast-pocket for safe-keeping. so damned safe that i never found it myself. who would ever think to look in my breast-pocket? who ever kept anything in his breast-pocket but a handkerchief? and a handkerchief that was never used as that. i thought of the money. it was a laugh, a laugh, all right. shoving it away, all these days. all those bills stuffed in there so tight, that the change in the bottom didn't even clink or jingle. when i ran frantically about in search of money, an inspiration came to me. i sprang out of the bed, fished through my pockets for all the money i had left, every last cent, and ran with it into the living-room. i thought of the money. it was a laugh, a laugh, all right. shoving it away, all these days. i spread the bills on the table, fan-shaped, each of them showing. in the very middle i stacked up a pile of change in a neat little tower. i thought of the money. it was a laugh, a laugh, all right. shoving it away, all these days.
Track Name: Almost godlike
i signaled for another whisky on the rocks and turned my attention to the room. odd how i could sit there unobserved by others. i was the only one alive in the place, the only one who saw. i smiled with tolerance at the room, and felt so remote and apart that i might have been unseen. i was unseen; for i had had to signal for minutes before i got the attention of the waiter. he never glanced my way. no, not once since i sat down. he had only eyes for the couples and they for each other. if i would melt into air, dissolve and leave not a rack behind, no one would notice. some time later the waiter would come upon an empty glass, upon an empty table and wonder when i had gone. some time later the waiter would come upon an empty glass, upon an empty table and wonder when i had gone. some time later the waiter would come upon an empty glass, an empty table and wonder when i had gone.
Track Name: A couple sat down
a couple sat down. were they sleeping together? was he nice to her? did he know what his body did to her? did she forget herself long enough to prize his, did she lay her head on his stomach, feel his chest and thighs, was he big? the question suddenly seemed important, they were all that mattered in the room - important, dangerous and exciting. if she was not here, if the young man was alone, i would advance and find out a thing or two. amused at my own daring, amused at the young man's shock. or if the young man should go, leaving the girl - or if the young man should go, leaving the girl, if she should look over and see me, let me speak to her, if i would move closer, if they should leave together.
Track Name: Between them
now that i was alone, with five hours staring me in the face, i began to sense the first pricks of panic. the time had to be filled, i could not just sit here. my eye fell on the gramophone. i walked over to it and lifted the cover. the latest record of joy division was on, unknown pleasures. i turned the switch and set it going; but before the record was halfway through, its energy and hammering clanging rhythm oppressed me, and i reached to set it off. i could be at the concert now. she would be there too, standing beside him in the dark. now and again one of them would lean towards the other and shout something about the performance. not about me; they wouldn't be talking about me now. chiefly because i was the only thing on their minds and neither wanted the other to know. i couldn't help smiling for the distraction that i knew i was causing them. i was taking their minds off the performance a hundred times more than if i had been standing there between them.
Track Name: Blank
and what of the passing and what of the lost, the uncountable and unrecoverable days used up in those depths. the time that went down the drain and never came back? the time was all i had, all anyone had, and i wasn't counting. i let it slip by as if the unused day or week might offer itself over again tomorrow. but it didn't and it couldn't - it had been used even though i hadn't used it. why ask how many? i could never say, i had lost count too long ago. the lost lost days, so many that it was a good deal less than my twenty-two years. many months less, whole gaps in periods of my life taken out in blank - most shameful waste of all, because nothing could ever give them back. i could only compensate my loss by re-entering that blank once more where time was uncounted and time didn't count. why ask how many? i could never say, i had lost count too long ago. the lost lost days, so many that it was a good deal less than my twenty-two years. many months less, whole gaps in periods of my life taken out in blank - most shameful waste of all, because nothing could ever give them back. i could only compensate my loss by re-entering that blank once more where time was uncounted and time didn't count.
Track Name: Any track
cockeyed wasn't the word. i felt i was being made an absolute fool of. by whom or by what i didn't know. that was the trouble, i couldn't tell. not by brad. brad obviously meant what he said. he wasn't tight. he never had been soberer in his life. it was a dangerous ground because all this had no basic in reality. the more so because it didn't make sense. there were facts, different from what i knew to be the facts. the further into it i got, the more fantastic it became. like when you first experience an earthquake and foundations cease to be foundations at all. was she completely crazy? was she hearing right? but she had to go on with it. some devilish compulsion insisted that she find out and be put on the right track, or the wrong track, even, but any track. cockeyed wasn't the word. i felt i was being made an absolute fool of. by whom or by what i didn't know. that was the trouble, i couldn't tell. was she completely crazy? was she hearing right? but she had to go on with it. some devilish compulsion insisted that she find out and be put on the right track, or the wrong track, even, but any track.
Track Name: Reckless but safe
how could my intelligence permit me to blow myself up to such exaggerated proportions, so great by contrast to the miserable facts. i had pictured myself as the sensitive gifted man seeking destruction with gallant and charming and even amused resignation. the dangers i skirted were no more threatening than the twigs and leaves which the night-flying bat avoids so skillfully, darting about in the darkness, reckless but safe, always safe - reckless but safe, always safe, detecting with its sensitive wings the slightest stir of air against the obstacle or tiny danger in its path, landing always safely at home, at the end of my reckless little tour, with nothing to fear but this unreasonable unshakeable remorse - remorse for having done nothing worse than to go out at all. reckless but safe, always safe, with nothing to fear but this unreasonable unshakeable remorse - remorse for having done nothing worse than to go out at all.
Track Name: Brains indeed
i was a member of that motley and ludicrous crew: fathers and husbands, brothers and sons, dear friends, promising friends - always promising. not so damned motley either, since they were crossed all the time, following so consistently the same pattern. they were the loved ones (usually); oddly, too, the well-favored. as children they were loved of their parents, their mothers especially; and if they were one of several, they were the ones most loved. they were the brightest in school, the intelligent, the quick to learn, never the studious. they tried their hands at many talents; and though they didn't get anywhere, their friends cover this up for them by speaking of them as 'clever', they say they have 'personality', they say 'so-and-so would go far if only he'd apply himself'. they say 'sure he's got brains but what good does it do to him?' brains indeed, and indeed what good does it do to him? brains indeed, and indeed what good does it do to him?
Track Name: Smug face
thing to do was to keep your eyes wide open and look at something, concentrate on some object, look hard at it. i raised myself on my pillow and leaned towards the desk and stared fixedly at the small plaster bust of Shakespeare that i had carried about with me for many years in all the places i had been and always been able to hang on to and never lose or forget or leave behind or have to pawn or sell. maybe i could regain control by trying to recall the other desks and dressers, the bureaus and bookcases, the tables and nightstands, the armoires and shelves the little bust had dominated in its time. it was a complacent smug little face and probably looked no more like Shakespeare than i did or indeed not as much, but i was fond of it. i closed my eyes and laid back on the pillow to test. thing to do was to keep your eyes wide open.
Track Name: Small world
i had to get out of here. i looked at the clock and found it was twenty minutes to four. bars opened at four, if the bartender was on time. i began to walk around the apartment. i went into the bathroom and kitchen. i came back. i buttoned my shoes. i buttoned my tie again. but why hurry. twenty minutes took a hell of a while, i could do a million things in twenty minutes, chances are an hour later it would still be twenty to four. i sat down, breathing heavily. what was i ever going to do now? to visit that bar the entire rest of my life, of course, was simply out of the question. i could stay out of the town for the rest of my days. could? i'd have to. suppose i should see somebody who had been there, suppose somebody I knew had been there and i hadn't noticed - and the other one had. i might meet them, i might run into any one of them some day, maybe they even knew somebody i knew. it was not beyond the bounds of possibility, it was a small world.