Publicación: 1 de Noviembre.
Productor: Norman Smith.
Ingeniero: Keith Harwood.
Estudios: Olympic Studios, Londres, U.K.
Discográfica U.K: Swan Song.
Nº de catalogo: SSK59400.
Diseño de portada, fotografía: Hipgnosis.
Arte: Richard Manning.
Tracks:
Lado 1.
01 Dream.
(J. Povey) 1:08
02 Joey.
(P. May) 5:35
03 Maybe You Tried.
(P. May, P. Tolson) 4:19
04 Atlanta.
(P. May, P. Tolson) 2:42
05 L.A.N.T.A.
(P. May, J. Povey, Norman Smith) 2:23
06 Is It Only Love.
(P. May) 5:04
Lado 2.
07 Come Home Momma.
(P. May) 3:32
08 Bridge of God.
(P. May) 5:01
09 Singapore Silk Torpedo.
(P. May, P. Tolson) 5:11
10 Belfast Cowboys.
(P. May, J. Povey) 5:10
11 Bruise in the Sky.
(J. Povey) 1:50
Tiempo total: 42:02 minutos.
Bonus tracks - Edición C.D 2002:
11 Singapore Silk Torpedo (live at Santa Monica Civic Auditorium, 1974).
(P. May, P. Tolson) 7:11
12 Dream / Joey (live at Santa Monica Civic Auditorium, 1974).
(P. May, J. Povey) 7:16
Compact Disc - Edición Japón 2006:
Discográfica: Strange Days Records / Universal Music.
Nº de catalogo: POCE-1005.
Discográfica: Strange Days Records / Universal Music.
Nº de catalogo: POCE-1005.
Portada.
Contraportada.
Carpeta.
Interior carpeta.
Interior.
Interior.
Disco.
Interior.
Interior.
Fajilla.
Matrix.
The Pretty Things:
Phil May: Voz, percusión.
Pete Tolson: Guitarras eléctricas y acústicas, bajo.
Gordon John Edwards: Bajo, teclados, guitarra, coros.
Jon Povey: Teclados, armónica, percusión, coros.
Skip Alan: Batería, percusión, coros.
Jack Green: Coros.
Otros músicos:
Silver Band: Metales (Is It Only Love).
Letras:
Dream.
(J. Povey)
Wouldn't I be yours
Wouldn't you be mine
Wouldn't I always want the things you are
Every day or year
It's got to be a dream, yes it is, yes it is,
It's got to be a dream, yes it is.
Wouldn't I need yours
Wouldn't you need mine
Wouldn't I always want the things you are
Every day or year
It's got to be a dream, yes it is, yes it is,
It's got to be a dream, yes it is.
Wouldn't I always think about you
Wouldn't I every day
Wouldn't always think about you
Joey's in a dream
Joey's in a dream
Joey's in a dream I had today.
Wouldn't I be yours
Wouldn't you be mine
Wouldn't I always want the things you are
Every day or year
It's got to be a dream, yes it is, yes it is,
It's got to be a dream, yes it is.
Wouldn't I always think about you
Wouldn't I every day
Wouldn't always think about you
Joey's in a dream
Joey's in a dream
Joey's in a dream I had today.
Joey.
(P. May)
Instrumental.
Maybe You Tried.
(P. May, P. Tolson)
Sweet Miranda, on the veranda
You really keep your ice-cream cold
Mine's melting in my hand,
I don't understand,
I guess you never could have been told.
You want to be a star
Yes you are.
Driving back home from my venture
I'm really feeling empty handed
Hand's on my stick
It's making me sick
Why did you leave me out in the cold.
You want to be a star
Yes you are.
Maybe you tried but you missed it
Maybe you tried it again
Maybe you tried but you missed it
Long goodbye.
Thought my viper would excite her
Believing what the good book had told
I showed her my pet
She phoned for the vet
Then killed it with a mean strangle hold.
You want to be a star
Yes you are.
Maybe you tried but you missed it
Maybe you tried it again
Maybe you tried but you missed it
Long goodbye.
You got me running girl
I'm an astronaut
But I just seem to burst in flame
You got me running girl
I'm a laid-back tiger but I'm never tame.
Little Queeny have you seen me
I'm waiting every night at ten
Hands on your hips
Blood on your lips
I make it but I just don't know when.
Atlanta.
(P. May, P. Tolson)
Early morning, pack my bags
Atlanta airport driver please
Lockheed Tristar, runway four
Don't you know I hate to leave.
Lazy Acres, five slow days
That Georgia farm gave me release
Tequila Sunrise lay me down
As the warm winds comb the trees.
But you know I'll return
For Atlanta I burn
Atlanta you're my home
All my life, all my days.
I like Atlanta, stayed there awhile
Kind of place that I could call home
I like Atlanta, stayed there awhile
Kind of place that I could call home.
Down at Richards, Cactus fly
We jammed together all night long
Southern people have a real good time
Grab your stuff and come along.
But you know I'll return
For Atlanta I burn
Atlanta you're my home
All my life, all my days.
I like Atlanta, stayed there awhile
Kind of place that I could call home
I like Atlanta, stayed there awhile
Kind of place that I could call home.
L.A.N.T.A.
(P. May, J. Povey, Norman Smith)
L A N T A Atlanta
Living in Atlanta.
Is It Only Love.
(P. May)
I said before, and now I'm sure
It's time to speak the truth
Say what I feel inside
There's nothing left to lose
Only time can turn the tide.
Is it only love that lets you down
Is it only love that lets you
Is it only love that lets you down.
The morning came, it brought the rain
Waking up to find she'd gone
And there's no one else around
And your feeling so alone
And you knew it all along.
Is it only love that lets you down
Is it only love that lets you
Is it only love that lets you down.
But you need it, 'cause you said so,
Were you crying, when he said no, no,
Did he want it, did he say it,
Would you still forgive him
Even it he said, I'm sorry.
Is it only love that lets you down
Is it only love that lets you
Is it only love that lets you down.
Come Home Momma.
(P. May)
With stiffened back, dressed in black
Enters doctor pessimism, no one called him.
He sips his tea, demands his fee,
Offers not one word of comfort to those grieving.
Come home Momma, you know the old man is dying.
Brothers, sisters, they stand around and they are crying.
He takes his hat, snaps it back
On the empty head old Lester thought might save him.
He snaps his purse, sends for the hearse,
Then he's off to dance beneath bright mirrored ceilings.
Come home Momma.
It's such a bitch, when the ditch
That they're digging is for your old man to lie in.
It grows so cold, when you're told
That old lester's house is sold; the mortgage closing.
Come home Momma.
Bridge of God.
(P. May)
Hide in the shadows, German shepherds are near
Heart double beating in a bright cage of fear
Something he wanted, but the price was too dear
His spirit's starting to float
The Bridge of God is his hope
Choir voices calling as a priest reads the news
Congregation falling, but incredible views
Long ago a mason earned a new pair of shoes
Building his bridge to the sky
Teaching the granite to fly
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
With chisels of steel
He carved out the wheel
To carry you high
With nail through bone
They laid the first stone
That crosses the sky
Stooped to the soil, bitter harvest passed by
Dining on hunger, as his crops slowly die
A distant church spire points the way to the sky
His pain is starting to melt
Beneath the bridges he's knelt
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge, yeah yeah
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge, cross the bridge
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
Ave, Ave Maria
Ave, Ave Maria
Old man is waiting for the end to arrive
Grey Monday morning with the washing line skies
Then without warning he just closes his eyes
He knows he hasn't a care, he knows the bridges are there
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
All his memories sold
He's releasing his hold
To be carried on high
With the juice of the past
And the dust in the hearth
It's an easy goodbye
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge.
Singapore Silk Torpedo.
(P. May, P. Tolson)
I've sailed the seas, a hard sea dog to please.
Tattooed on my chest, is the girl I love best.
Back in 1954, on leave in old Singapore
I was soaking in gin, when Miss Foxy walked in.
She's my Singapore silk torpedo,
Wearing high satin non stick lip glow,
I fell a victim to this female hipno,
She's my Singapore silk torpedo.
She drives a Mercedes, she's queen of the ladies,
My China seas sweetheart, she tears me apart.
She's my Singapore silk torpedo.
Wearing high satin non stick lip glow,
I fell a victim to this female hipno,
She's my Singapore silk torpedo.
You speak of love to her, a smile cracks her face,
She doesn't believe in rules, to her it's just a race.
She's seen both black and white,
You shouldn't go out tonight
Unless you me in to play it mean.
She's like a spike in the head,
I'd be better off dead,
Just can't shake her loose.
Now I'm hooked on this juice
We'll build a house on the cliff,
A small navy our gift,
Passing ships in the night,
Anchored safe we're alright.
She's my Singapore silk torpedo.
Wearing high satin non stick lip glow,
I fell a victim to this female hipno,
She's my Singapore silk torpedo.
Belfast Cowboys.
(P. May, J. Povey)
Celtic children born with stone in hand
Cast against the dark
Revolution spark
Bitter tears they flood the sea
They're drowning me.
Frightened soldiers fighting for a queen
Streets of Orange and Green
Ancient building scream
As exploding motor cars
Leave their scars.
Hey, Belfast Cowboys,
What you gonna do, where're you gonna run.
Towards the dawn the lights of power burn
Statesmen wrapped in fears
Wrestling with ideas
Search their souls to find the key.
Who has the key?
Hey, Belfast Cowboys,
What you gonna do, where're you gonna run.
Khaki angles fly the sun,
Mortar starlight burns
Tear stained face it turns
Paid the blood price to be free.
Hey, Belfast Cowboys,
What you gonna do, where're you gonna run.
Bruise in the Sky.
(J. Povey)
Looked out my window
Saw a bruise in the sky,
Closed up my curtains
As the world began, the world began to
Look through its window
Saw a bruise in the sky,
Ring down the curtains
As the world began to cry.
Videos:
Dream / Joey.
Singapore Silk Torpedo.
Phil May: Voz, percusión.
Pete Tolson: Guitarras eléctricas y acústicas, bajo.
Gordon John Edwards: Bajo, teclados, guitarra, coros.
Jon Povey: Teclados, armónica, percusión, coros.
Skip Alan: Batería, percusión, coros.
Jack Green: Coros.
Otros músicos:
Silver Band: Metales (Is It Only Love).
Letras:
Dream.
(J. Povey)
Wouldn't I be yours
Wouldn't you be mine
Wouldn't I always want the things you are
Every day or year
It's got to be a dream, yes it is, yes it is,
It's got to be a dream, yes it is.
Wouldn't I need yours
Wouldn't you need mine
Wouldn't I always want the things you are
Every day or year
It's got to be a dream, yes it is, yes it is,
It's got to be a dream, yes it is.
Wouldn't I always think about you
Wouldn't I every day
Wouldn't always think about you
Joey's in a dream
Joey's in a dream
Joey's in a dream I had today.
Wouldn't I be yours
Wouldn't you be mine
Wouldn't I always want the things you are
Every day or year
It's got to be a dream, yes it is, yes it is,
It's got to be a dream, yes it is.
Wouldn't I always think about you
Wouldn't I every day
Wouldn't always think about you
Joey's in a dream
Joey's in a dream
Joey's in a dream I had today.
Joey.
(P. May)
Instrumental.
Maybe You Tried.
(P. May, P. Tolson)
Sweet Miranda, on the veranda
You really keep your ice-cream cold
Mine's melting in my hand,
I don't understand,
I guess you never could have been told.
You want to be a star
Yes you are.
Driving back home from my venture
I'm really feeling empty handed
Hand's on my stick
It's making me sick
Why did you leave me out in the cold.
You want to be a star
Yes you are.
Maybe you tried but you missed it
Maybe you tried it again
Maybe you tried but you missed it
Long goodbye.
Thought my viper would excite her
Believing what the good book had told
I showed her my pet
She phoned for the vet
Then killed it with a mean strangle hold.
You want to be a star
Yes you are.
Maybe you tried but you missed it
Maybe you tried it again
Maybe you tried but you missed it
Long goodbye.
You got me running girl
I'm an astronaut
But I just seem to burst in flame
You got me running girl
I'm a laid-back tiger but I'm never tame.
Little Queeny have you seen me
I'm waiting every night at ten
Hands on your hips
Blood on your lips
I make it but I just don't know when.
Atlanta.
(P. May, P. Tolson)
Early morning, pack my bags
Atlanta airport driver please
Lockheed Tristar, runway four
Don't you know I hate to leave.
Lazy Acres, five slow days
That Georgia farm gave me release
Tequila Sunrise lay me down
As the warm winds comb the trees.
But you know I'll return
For Atlanta I burn
Atlanta you're my home
All my life, all my days.
I like Atlanta, stayed there awhile
Kind of place that I could call home
I like Atlanta, stayed there awhile
Kind of place that I could call home.
Down at Richards, Cactus fly
We jammed together all night long
Southern people have a real good time
Grab your stuff and come along.
But you know I'll return
For Atlanta I burn
Atlanta you're my home
All my life, all my days.
I like Atlanta, stayed there awhile
Kind of place that I could call home
I like Atlanta, stayed there awhile
Kind of place that I could call home.
L.A.N.T.A.
(P. May, J. Povey, Norman Smith)
L A N T A Atlanta
Living in Atlanta.
Is It Only Love.
(P. May)
I said before, and now I'm sure
It's time to speak the truth
Say what I feel inside
There's nothing left to lose
Only time can turn the tide.
Is it only love that lets you down
Is it only love that lets you
Is it only love that lets you down.
The morning came, it brought the rain
Waking up to find she'd gone
And there's no one else around
And your feeling so alone
And you knew it all along.
Is it only love that lets you down
Is it only love that lets you
Is it only love that lets you down.
But you need it, 'cause you said so,
Were you crying, when he said no, no,
Did he want it, did he say it,
Would you still forgive him
Even it he said, I'm sorry.
Is it only love that lets you down
Is it only love that lets you
Is it only love that lets you down.
Come Home Momma.
(P. May)
With stiffened back, dressed in black
Enters doctor pessimism, no one called him.
He sips his tea, demands his fee,
Offers not one word of comfort to those grieving.
Come home Momma, you know the old man is dying.
Brothers, sisters, they stand around and they are crying.
He takes his hat, snaps it back
On the empty head old Lester thought might save him.
He snaps his purse, sends for the hearse,
Then he's off to dance beneath bright mirrored ceilings.
Come home Momma.
It's such a bitch, when the ditch
That they're digging is for your old man to lie in.
It grows so cold, when you're told
That old lester's house is sold; the mortgage closing.
Come home Momma.
Bridge of God.
(P. May)
Hide in the shadows, German shepherds are near
Heart double beating in a bright cage of fear
Something he wanted, but the price was too dear
His spirit's starting to float
The Bridge of God is his hope
Choir voices calling as a priest reads the news
Congregation falling, but incredible views
Long ago a mason earned a new pair of shoes
Building his bridge to the sky
Teaching the granite to fly
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
With chisels of steel
He carved out the wheel
To carry you high
With nail through bone
They laid the first stone
That crosses the sky
Stooped to the soil, bitter harvest passed by
Dining on hunger, as his crops slowly die
A distant church spire points the way to the sky
His pain is starting to melt
Beneath the bridges he's knelt
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge, yeah yeah
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge, cross the bridge
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
Ave, Ave Maria
Ave, Ave Maria
Old man is waiting for the end to arrive
Grey Monday morning with the washing line skies
Then without warning he just closes his eyes
He knows he hasn't a care, he knows the bridges are there
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
All his memories sold
He's releasing his hold
To be carried on high
With the juice of the past
And the dust in the hearth
It's an easy goodbye
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge
Cross the Bridge of God, cross the Bridge.
Singapore Silk Torpedo.
(P. May, P. Tolson)
I've sailed the seas, a hard sea dog to please.
Tattooed on my chest, is the girl I love best.
Back in 1954, on leave in old Singapore
I was soaking in gin, when Miss Foxy walked in.
She's my Singapore silk torpedo,
Wearing high satin non stick lip glow,
I fell a victim to this female hipno,
She's my Singapore silk torpedo.
She drives a Mercedes, she's queen of the ladies,
My China seas sweetheart, she tears me apart.
She's my Singapore silk torpedo.
Wearing high satin non stick lip glow,
I fell a victim to this female hipno,
She's my Singapore silk torpedo.
You speak of love to her, a smile cracks her face,
She doesn't believe in rules, to her it's just a race.
She's seen both black and white,
You shouldn't go out tonight
Unless you me in to play it mean.
She's like a spike in the head,
I'd be better off dead,
Just can't shake her loose.
Now I'm hooked on this juice
We'll build a house on the cliff,
A small navy our gift,
Passing ships in the night,
Anchored safe we're alright.
She's my Singapore silk torpedo.
Wearing high satin non stick lip glow,
I fell a victim to this female hipno,
She's my Singapore silk torpedo.
Belfast Cowboys.
(P. May, J. Povey)
Celtic children born with stone in hand
Cast against the dark
Revolution spark
Bitter tears they flood the sea
They're drowning me.
Frightened soldiers fighting for a queen
Streets of Orange and Green
Ancient building scream
As exploding motor cars
Leave their scars.
Hey, Belfast Cowboys,
What you gonna do, where're you gonna run.
Towards the dawn the lights of power burn
Statesmen wrapped in fears
Wrestling with ideas
Search their souls to find the key.
Who has the key?
Hey, Belfast Cowboys,
What you gonna do, where're you gonna run.
Khaki angles fly the sun,
Mortar starlight burns
Tear stained face it turns
Paid the blood price to be free.
Hey, Belfast Cowboys,
What you gonna do, where're you gonna run.
Bruise in the Sky.
(J. Povey)
Looked out my window
Saw a bruise in the sky,
Closed up my curtains
As the world began, the world began to
Look through its window
Saw a bruise in the sky,
Ring down the curtains
As the world began to cry.
Videos:
Enlaces:
Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silk_Torpedo
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