Vostok Lake

Magical Internet (2008)

Magical Internet cover. Featuring (l-r): Vostok Lake and a dodgy accomplice

Written and recorded entirely in the month of February for the RPM Challenge '08. Originally titled "Auxiliary Choir". Buy it here, or listen to it in full here.

Original liner notes:

The best thing about a comedy gig is that they're actually listening to the words, and my words have always been the pivot around which my music has rotated. However, once we had reached the limits of what the Anastasia songs, ludicrous electro-punk covers of heavy metal songs and "stunt keyboarding" could do for us, we realised we had to write some more songs which could get a lyrical point across in an amusing manner. And the RPM challenge was as good an excuse as any.

This disk is being issued under the name of the "Vostok Lake Auxilliary Choir" to emphasise that this is NOT the long-awaited first Vostok Lake album. "Small Group Psychosis" is still being recorded, and it will contain far fewer flubbed notes, mumbled lyrics and other production oddities, as well as being significantly less "minimalist". This album was written for the comedy gigs, and recorded at breakneck speed, and in that sense is a snapshot of only part of what Vostok Lake does - the album proper will be more well rounded.

I hope you enjoy. It doesn't really sound like Vostok Lake, in fact in places it barely sounds like music at all... but I think it sounds like a good time.

Sex in a Decade

I haven’t had sex in a decade

I haven’t got off in so long

The act was incredibly messy

The partners I chose were incredibly wrong

I can’t tolerate the gymastics

I’m asked to perform in the sack

I bought seven inches of plastic

The Adult shop won’t take it back

The bars are all full of those people who’re cool -

Or at least think they are - everywhere

I’d rather stay in with my internet friends

Than wash someone's grease out of my hair

And if you get tired of the penis

And go out to eat at the Y

Be ready to talk about feelings all night

And the Indigo Girls till you die

I haven’t had sex in a decade

Like nuns in the bad days of old

I will start to hallucinate Jesus

And see if he’ll do what he’s told

The celibate life, or becoming a wife

These things I have never considered

I can’t understand it, I’d lower my standards

If I had the damn things to begin with

I haven’t had sex in a decade

Except that one time in July

But that was the fault of the absinthe

And a very suggestible guy

I jog and I cycle for hours

Or else I get tense as a spring -

If I don’t find the energy

Don’t let it get to me

I’ll never have sex

Cause it’s just too complex

And then I’d have nothing to sing.


Little Anastasia hasn’t eaten in a week

She’s reaching for the other side

Her mind’s like a needle that’s impossible to seek

The spirits of the books are her guide

“Let me go, let me go,

My life is mine to show

I now reject this planet

All my enemies can cram it”

But they’ll never let Stacey go,

Oh no,

This town will never let her go.

Little Anastasia cried “no-one understands me”

Or knew how badly she’d been hurt

Her dad was so upset, that he just broke down and let

Her wear the vinyl corset and the fishnet skirt

“Let me go, let me go,

My life is mine, you know,

I now reject this planet

All my enemies can cram it”

But they’ll never let Stacey go,

Oh no,

Your parents will not let you go.

Stacey’s getting thinner

She keeps on slipping through

The cracks between her lunch and dinner

So what’s a girl to do?

Little Anastasia took a bottle full of pills

Posted on her Internet page

The paramedic team broke her door to smithereens

She shouted in a fit of rage:

“Let me go, let me go,

My life is mine to show

I now reject this planet

All my enemies can cram it”

But they’ll never let Stacey go,

Oh no,

They’ll never let Stacey go.

Stacey’s getting thinner

She keeps on slipping through

The cracks between her lunch and dinner

So what’s a girl to do?

And oh, she is a sinner

Her world is of intolerable pain

Oh, she’s getting thinner

She won’t believe in God

And someone stole her I-pod

How can you ask her to remain?

Little Anastasia went walking to the mall

Bought herself some brand new clothes

And down at the graveyard, her boyfriend gave her

A single blood-red rose

“Let us go, let us go,

Our place is down below

We now reject this planet

And those idiots can cram it”

But a suicide pact

Isn’t quite a private act

When your friends break in

And they drag you off again

Because your friends will never let you go

Oh no

We will never let you go.

The Auckland National Anthem

The weather’s too hot

And the weather’s too wet

And the buildings are leaky

Not remedied yet

And we’re ruled by a council

That’s warped and insane

Who we voted for last time

And will do again

It’s so multicultural

Open till late

But we hate and fear people

Whose English ain't great

We worry our town

Will turn into Shanghai

We want to pretend

That it’s still ‘59

And this is why we live in Auckland

The beautiful city of sails

Cause we don’t have the money for Melbourne

And the rest of this country just fails.

The traffic’s atrocious

Makes us rip out our hair

But we still persist taking

Our cars everywhere

And the crime is pernicious

Young people these days

Are savages, lurking

With murderous gaze

The rich folk drive Porsches

Up volcanic hills

The poor folk in gullies

Are blamed for their ills

The white trash out Westwards

Cause us distress

The brown folks down South

Have to clean up our mess

And this is why we live in Auckland

The beautiful city of sails

Cause we don’t have the money for London

And the rest of this country just fails.

We sneer with contempt

At those south of Bombay

Those ignorant rednecks

Just wasting away

Our city’s superior

Second to none

We’d boast of its virtues

If we thought of one

Why don’t they just move

To some tiny cell

In a motorway suburb

Of our private hell?

We’ll move to Orewa

To give them some room

And if they come closer

Then we’ll just keep moving

Yes, everybody come to Auckland

The beautiful city of sails

If you don’t have the money for Queenstown

Cause the rest of this country just fails.

Crazy Cat Lady

Oh sweet crazy cat lady, what will you do?

Your clothes are all torn, your possessions are few

But twenty-six cats are calling for you

So sad... so sad...

You started with one with an evil-eyed stare

He scratched up your sofa and messed with your hair

Went hunting each night, left his prey every where

Like every man you knew.

But people are harder to have and to hold

They burn with all passion, then freeze icy cold

And your four-legged friends are so sweet to behold

So sad... so sad...

You gave all your cash to the SPCA

You chose some new friends, and you took them away

And now there are more of them every day

They come from miles around

You are a responsible owner, of course

Compassion extended to all upon paws

Including that black one who's big as a horse

And eats like one as well

And every corner of every room

Now stinking of urine and shrouded in gloom

'Cause kitties prefer it as dark as the tomb

Light scares the prey away

And no human being will visit you now

You barely speak English, more often miaow

The question is what the police will allow

So sad... so sad...

Oh sweet crazy cat lady, what will you do?

You’ll die all alone and remembered by few

And twenty-six cats will all feast upon you

So sad, so sad, so sad.

Songs of My People

We spend our spare time watching crappy TV

Or swapping cute pictures of cats

We work for far less that we thought we were worth

But we try not to dwell upon that

We work in a whitecollar office based world

It’s harder to do than you’d think

I’ll sing you the songs of my people

And maybe you’ll buy me a drink.

History’s past generations

All had their manner of song

They kept up their spirits in mines and plantations

In rhythm the working day long

The rhythm today is the clack of the keys

And the groans as computers break down

I’ll sing you the songs of my people

And maybe you’ll buy me a round.

We are the anonymous legions

Who keep the whole show on the road

In retail, we handle the money

The call centres handle the load

They keep us so far separated

But Telecom keeps us all joined

I’ll sing you the songs of my people

And maybe you’ll throw me a coin.

In every era, the subjects

Portrayed in the popular song

Are similar – sex, drugs and violence

And how that mean ex did you wrong

And what you would do to the people in charge

If ever you got off your knees -

I’ll sing you the songs of my people

On topical themes such as these.

We’re growing our own secret culture

Distributed over the Net

Don’t tell them we’re planning a breakthrough

We don’t want to spill the beans yet

The media don’t tell our stories

The papers won’t say we exist

So I’ll sing you the songs of our people

And maybe you’ll give me a kiss.

A Motorway Runs Through There Now

Oh, when I was a younger girl

I dwelt in houses old and rotten

A relic of a gentler world

By time and taste and funds forgotten

We worked and fought and loved so sweet

These things the traffic won't allow -

Don't bother trying to find those streets

A motorway runs through there now

A motorway runs through there now

They tore our houses down

And every day I curse the fate

That killed my darling town.

Oh, praise upon the mayors of old

Who sniffed the fumes one time too many

Our trains and buses wrecked and sold

To Big Oil for a tiny penny

All glory to the private car -

For profit's sake, the sacred cow

The concrete covers Shangri-La

A motorway runs through there now.

A motorway runs through there now

It's jammed most every day

They wrecked the place where I was born

To build a worse decay.

Now sometimes in the dark of night

You're cruising at 100 k's

You'll see a ghostly suburb rise

And shimmer in the petrol haze

The hungry ghosts of streets destroyed

Behold their murderers, and vow

To drag you to the gaping void...

A motorway runs through there now.

A motorway runs through there now

For all eternity

And Satan harvests corporate souls

To fuel his SUV

Terror Alert

Woke up one morning 'bout quarter to eight

There were twenty-two cops standing at my gate

They said they'd come to get me on a terror alert

They took away my computer

And my tino rangatiratanga shirt

They took me to the court about half-past ten

There were twenty-five people all making a din

They said they didn’t buy that crap about a terror alert

But then I fell down the stairs

And the cops made sure that it hurt.

And the judge walked in

And the police said

“This no-account terrorist wants us all dead

Planning mass destruction and all that what-have-ya

We got the evidence on our candid camera”

Well the judge got spooked and denied me bail

So they threw my goddamn carcass in Mount Eden Jail

And like the old song says, time keeps dragging on

But the trains keep on rolling... on out to Henderson.

Up spoke a gentleman of the press

“The cops are right and I wish them success

The boys in blue have a duty to save us

From anything more radical than voting Labour”

Well, I spent three weeks just stewing away

Till the solicitor-general had the nerve to say

It was all just a “false alarm” on the terror alert

But what I want to know

Is where we're gonna go

If they can throw you in the pokey

With no evidence to show

And when will they give back my tino rangatiratanga shirt?

Thank You Magical Internet

A lovely Nigerian fellow

Wrote just the other day

To ask for the use of my bank account

To stash his ill gotten gains

And I, being young and impulsive

Said sure, here's my number, have fun

And trusted the magical Internet

Sure it was good what I'd done

Now my bank account's packed with Nigerian gold

I own seven cars and a yacht

So thank you, magical Internet

For all of the wealth that I got.

A lovely Ukrainian lady

Wrote just the other day

She said she was lonely and wanted to marry

Someone from far away

Well, thanks to the Civil Union laws,

It seemed quite a plausible dare

So I trusted the magical Internet

And I sent her some bucks for the fare

So now the most beautiful girl in Kiev

Does all of my cooking and cleaning

Oh, thank you, magical Internet

For giving my life true meaning.

I got a penis extension

They wrote just the other day

They promised twelve inches of rock hard erection

Oh, what will your girlfriend say?

Considering I was a woman before

I was skeptical right to the end

But thanks to the magical Internet

I have a new best friend

Now I have a wanger that's truly fantastic

Though I get funny looks on the street

Oh thank you, magical Internet

For making my life complete.

My Humble Curse

Queen of the Angels

Queen of the May

Queen of the Harpies

Take them away.

Don’t want to be here

Working for pay

Future utopia

Take them away.

Boils and diseases

Rain on the boss

Fire in the boardrooms

Who’ll give a toss?

Idiot managers

Will rue the day

Boiling their eyeballs

Take them away.

Bogus religions

Rip out the cash

Fake politicians

Pack glass in the gash

Fascists and fundies

Every which way

Death and damnation

Take them away.

Pure exploitation

Rules in our lives

Generals and presidents

Sharpen their knives

I’m not a puppet

To dance in their play

I’ve had enough of it

Take them away.

Liars and mindfixers

Poison the well

Flunkies and junkies

Hiding the smell

Of murders, atrocities

Social decay

It’s quite enough for me

Take them away.

I’m not a psychopath

I’m not insane

I only speak for

The subconscious brain

I bet you’ve all thought in

Exactly this way

Say it along with me:

“Take them away.”

One day you’ll see me

Queen on a throne

Hands on the button

Feet on the bone

Armies and legions

All hear me say:

“Give us utopia

Take them away.”

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