Introduction To A Rumour

by Joe Le Tropic/The Tropics Of Cancer

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If you ain't got the balls to call You ain't any balls at all Just like a dog without any bones You're too damn weak to pick up the phone You wrote my number on the back of your paw Whaddya think your lucky number's for? I'm not asking for your hand Your baby's arm will do just grand If you ain't got the balls to call You ain't any balls at all The ball's in your court and that's where it falls But you ain't got the balls to give me a call You're handsome and dark and very, very tall But that don't mean you've very many balls And if you do I must surmise In my eyes they're very, very small If you ain't got the balls to call You ain't any balls at all You just can't take this golden ball-breaker 'Cos you got your goldfinger up your money maker.
4.
5.
What am I to do when it comes to you? I'm so hot and cold, you'll swear the air bright blue Try to make it work, I'll knuckle down with you Then I'll slip away-just like the others do Then I'll make a slip and the scales will tip Tip me into your lap, the not-so-tender trap And the stomach churns as the carpet burns When the trouble starts I'm off to foreign parts
6.
Angie! 02:12
Breasts like bullets, hair of iron Black badge, kiss of a lion Open-toed shoes on the pedals Burgundy good radials She'll eat you alive with the smiling dials To guide you Angie! Haws on her eyes stimulate the brain Like an alligator crawling in the rain Slingbacks and a gun And an ever-so-delicious strawberry bun Mrs Dickinson will take you by the hand Take you downtown, show you around Angie! She likes the coffee uptown I like the smell of the spaghetti downtown She likes the smell of the coffee beans While she's walking uptown I like to go downtown And watch the smell move around From street to street. Her dog don't like my dog Angie!
7.
Esmerelda 01:32
I had such a terrible Friday 13 The switch went crack! & the lights went down The rats insult me and treat me so mean In my candlelit dump in the middle of town My heart creeps like feet that shuffle outside The same heart you broke 50 times in a day The noise in my head gives me nowhere to hide Its 50 times louder since you went away I'll follow you back to your quiet little town I won't show myself 'cos its bad for your health I'll try to blend in as I trail you around 'Cos one look at me and you might shit yourself My back's so stiff, my infection hurts The buzz in my ear drowns out the ring My breath's short & bad and my temper's worse There's flies in my eyes so it must be spring I'm glad you can't see me by dawn's early light It's too much to handle for the world & his wife I grind my teeth down to stumps at night There's food stuck between 'em and I'm damned for life I listen for the post and I know that at most You'll send me back my ear and my unopened letter I can't get out of bed 'cos I'm already dead I'd try to call your Mum but I'd only upset her I'll follow you back to your quiet little town I won't show myself 'cos its bad for your health I'll try to blend in as I trail you around 'Cos one look at me and you you might shit yourself The bed's full of itches and I got no food I got no money and my friends are gone I grind my teeth down to stumps at night There's food stuck between 'em and I'm damned for life
8.
Sister Flora 02:19
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Tricoteuse 04:00
10.

about

THE TROPICS OF CANCER
Introduction to a Rumour
RIM
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The Tropics are Flaming Star Joe Whitney and a gathering of London's kitsch cats and gangster chic underground gutter hounds (including Jake Vegas, Urbane Voodoo Machine P.R. Angel and brother Flamer Huck). This here is a collection of recordings from various speakeasies, cellar casinos and upstairs back-rooms of east-end back-alley boozers from 1992 to 2004. A low-key affair conducted appropriately at street ends so dark everyday folk are wary and speak only hearsay about what goes in the house on the corner...if it's occupied at all. Restlessly inventive...intoxicatingly hypnotic...a sultry stew flambé-ing the Flaming Stars further into flamenco flavoured Latino bordellos and sweaty oriental opium dens...rounds of cards played, deals shook...suckers shook down in experimental folk lounges of Eno ethereal swinging rags and raging voodoo vibes, hot under the collar vocals whispered like incantations and curses by a private eye straight outta Chandler as the indigenous poison administered by his lap-dancing Laotian goddess takes full effect and heaves-ho the anchor on his hallucinogenic express taking in coconut growing hip-hop from Middle Eastern bazoukis ('The Ghost of Baghdad'), Schnapps soused Germans grimacing in shell-shocked delirium between murderous mortar blasts and nightmare nursery rhymes from a flatlining Brothers Grimm, sassily sardonic put-down 'Balls To Call' .. surface sweet as Rosemary Clooney singing a 1950's TV ad for domestic products whilst delivering an earthy riposte to her handsome chap for not calling .. and myriad mordant folk tunes plucked from hillsides, vineyards and decaying farmhouses. Oh, and Bauhaus' 'Honeymoon Croon' spit-roasting (in the traditional tribal sense) Alien Sex Fiend on 'Angie!'

Moreso than the Stars this is evocative, unceasingly creative and cinematic soundscapery that'd perfectly accompany arthouse noir, Spillane style slick dickery and nocturnal 'Nosferatu' wanderings (see the twitching 'Tricoteuse'). Highly and heartily recommended.
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released July 5, 2013

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Joe Le Tropic/The Tropics Of Cancer London, UK

Music performed live Worldwide
Recordings incl. Flaming Stars Minxus Tropics Of Cancer Jake Vegas Urban Voodoo Machine
Radio/TV John Peel Radio 6 Clive Anderson
Mark Radcliffe Mark Lamarr Sean Hughes Resonance FM BBC2 ITV C4 MTV
Film Music Bruna Surfistinha Playing W. Piranhas
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