Dedicated to our good friend Dieter Miller-Risdale
lyrics
The king of poetry the champion of love
Spraying mantis slayer but as playful as a dove
A dove tripping on ecstasy; a strong hallucinant
Chasing after girls whose occupation is heartbreak
The times he spends alone in clubs in Hull or Montreal
Hoping pretty strangers will approach him at the bar
Exchanging home phone numbers for a smile and a wink
He then asks the bartender for another round of drinks
But rushes to the bathroom to go vomit in the sink
He spends his nights alone in there without a soul I think
A Rolodex of badly thought out series of excuses
He flips through them every night wondering which one fits his uses
We doubt he’ll even come back home
To the city where he knows he belongs
But for now we’ll keep in contact while his friends are staying coastal
While he’s out making music boasting talent, oh so local
He doesn’t even like their songs
And I know he’s craving ripping some bong
They’re oftentimes heard calling him a jester and a thief
But he’s the king of joking and a robber of our grief
A dangerous combination when you host radio shows
Interviewing artists whose songs don’t compare to yours
And featuring those shitty lyrics you’d never compose
We wait for you with patience ‘til you musically explode
We love the man to death you see in his own special way
His company is precious and we hope today’s the day
Where we’ll see his handsome face again walk through my basement door
And maybe play some songs with us just like the times before!
A Rolodex of badly thought out series of excuses
He threw it out late last night since it’s just another nuisance
‘Cause tonight Dieter’s coming home
To the city where he knows he belongs
He’s packed up all his bags to join his friends who all live coastal
He’s learning shanty sea songs so he’ll fit in with the locals
“Barrett’s Privateers” all night long
The one and only Black Sheep Son
We miss the man all day, all night long
He doesn’t even like this song!
And I know he’s craving ripping some bong!
Black Sheep Son, this is your home
It’s no Montreal, nor back in Stowe
But it’s with your friends, wherever we go
Be it Halifax, or Peterborough
Though seven years have passed since their last release, the band’s hooky, slightly shoegazey sound remains intact with hints of gothic gloom and ramshackle synth-pop. Bandcamp Album of the Day Aug 7, 2020