Clinic – Porno + Suzanne Vega – Pornographer’s Dream

A live song by Clinic, an English indie band from Liverpool, well-seen by critics but not so much commercially successful.  A nice video, too.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, OH OH OHH!

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, OH OH OHH!

I’m climbin off the boxes
That’s when you boned her
Seen how you lose it
You couldn’t control it
Placent, I’m stuck complacent
Success complacent
Stuck on

oh, oh, oh, OH OH OHH!

OH OH OHH!

I’m mimi the spastic
Slipped in the outhouse
Grease me I’m lonely
I’ve started to come down
Placent, I’m stuck complacent
Success complacent
Stuck on

I’m bored, I’m bored, I’m bored playing cards
Sex, I’m bored, I’m bored, I’m bored playing cards
Sex, I’m bored, I’m bored, I’m bored playing cards
Sex, ‘n boys boys boys boys boys play cards

oh ohhhh

—————————————————————————————–

And here I copy some beautiful words by Suzanne Vega explaining her song Pornographer’s Dream included in her latest album Beauty and Crime: ‘It’s the deeper longing underneath it, what is it they’re really longing for underneath it. The pornographer here longs for a more spiritual experience. It’s a song that some people really do get and some other people don’t get it at all. Some other people are like: “What are you talking about?”, “It’s not true.” But I still think it is true on some level, maybe not true for each specific person, but I think that’s what most people want. Most people want what’s good, they don’t want what’s bad. They fall into having an addiction but I think ultimately what you’re striving for is some kind of peace, or some kind of goodness and I can’t help but believe in that.’ In my view, what is bad with pornography is the addiction and the implications on the way people perceive reality. In a few words, I think that pornography doesn’t teach how to love women or to love each other. On the other hand, it shows only how to fuck instead of dreaming with one’s own fantasy.

she’s a pornographer’s dream, he said.
I knew what he meant.
but it made me imagine: what kind of a dream
he would have, that hadn’t been spent?

would he still dream of the thigh? of the flesh upon high?
what he saw so much of?
wouldn’t he dream of the thing that he never
could quite get the touch of?

it’s out of his hands, over his head
out of his reach, under this real life
hidden in veils, covered in silk
he’s dreaming of what might be

out of his hands, over his head
out of his reach, under this real life
hidden in veils,
he’s dreaming of mystery.

Bettie Page is still the rage
with her legs and leather;
she turns to tease the camera, and please us at home,
and we let her.

who’s to know what she’ll show of herself,
in what measure?
if what she reveals, or what she conceals,
is the key to our pleasure?

it’s out of our hands, over our heads
out of our reach, under this real life
hidden in veils, covered in silk
we’re dreaming of what might be

it’s out of our hands, over our heads
out of our reach, under this real life
hidden in veils
we’re dreaming of mystery.

she’s a pornographer’s dream, he said.
I knew what he meant.
but it made me imagine: what kind of a dream
he would have?

*******************************************************************************

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