When I did some coke and never been kissed
I got to thinking about what I had missed.
I bought me a lass, I shagged her and then
Swinged bloody over and shagged her again.
Chorus:
Oh, kisses sweeter than line?
Oh, kisses sweeter than line?!
Then I asked her to fuck off and give me a life,
And we'd be so happy in separate lives.
I begged and I pleaded like a natural man,
Instead bloody hussy catched me by hand.
I fought mighty hard and so did that jade
She dragged out my money and called me her fate.
With coke on my nose and wind in the bins,
I became, bloody shite, a father of twins.
Fucking women they numbered more over than four,
And every sweetheart knocked at my door.
They longed to get married and didn’t hesitate;
But I can't, bloody cunts, become husband of eight!
Now I'm exhausted, and ready to go,
I am thinkin’ what happened a long time ago.
I had loads of lassies, troubles and pain,
I'm not bloody sure I’d do it again.
MOJO magazine:
"A desperate cry of a tormented soul, a fascinating combination of a life-weary cynic with a sensitive artist able to reflect pains and hurts with a wry smile on his lips. A sparkling oasis in the desert of contemporary popular music..."
Cultural supplement of The Times:
"He draws on an old ballad to fill it with angsts and anxieties of modern world and breathe a new life into the material which hasn’t been worn down by the tooth of time and which now, thanks to him, acquires a new amazing dimension. A poignant example of deep soul-searching and a true work of art."
***
Interview with the author:
Sweet kisses, misogynists and rubber dolls
MOJO Magazine, September 2005
Shady dark-green bench under the branches of a tall lime tree in a city park. After countless calls and countless attempts to get in touch with the man whose song has recently stirred the waters of popular music and who has received positive reviews in the most prestigious music press, the jaunty creator (or jaded cynic, JC for short) finally agrees to answer a few questions exclusively for our magazine. Coming almost on time (plus minus an hour or two), he takes his seat away from the scorching sunlight and willingly answers even the most delicate inquires regarding his intriguing creation.
Reporter: Let’s go straight to the point...
JC (cuts in): Any questions about sexism?
R: If you are a misogynist? It will surely be welcome if you clarify this matter for the readers.
JC: Well, it's senseless and ridiculous. I love women. Everyone who knows me will confirm it - I love women. What can I say... Believe it or not, but this song was dedicated to a girl. It's a gift. I presented it and it was graciously accepted.
R: To a girl you described so vividly in the song?
JC: She is a girl who inspired this song, not a main character, no! I mean she gave me an idea, she gave me a key! A key phrase. She said these words: "kisses sweeter than wine". "What" – I retorted - "kisses sweeter than line?" And she explained that there was an old song, a ballad, called Kisses Sweeter Than Wine. Hmm, if such song exists why not give a birth to another one. To look at it from another perspective. I just thought a bit what it meant for me - kissers sweeter than line - and I put on paper everything these words provoked. It took just ten or fifteen minutes, maybe twenty, not more. It came out of my heart and laid on paper. Just emotions awoken by these four simple words. So that girl gave me an idea and I returned her a song. Simple like that.
R: So are kisses sweeter than line or not?
JC: Jedem das seine. Sometimes it depends on length of both kiss and line. Sometimes they are equally bitter. No one can say for sure before trying and once tried both no one will know till the end of him.
R: It came out of the heart you say. A way of ventilating your frustrations?
JC: Categorizing, I would say it's like to stand in front of a mirror, have a look and describe loudly what you have seen, or to peep in a well maybe.
R: And being horrified with the picture you see? Or wryly amused?
JC: Being in humour to share the sight with others. It's not about maniac, it's about an ordinary man, in usual situation. Don't they recognize themselves? Every mother's son has eyes, nose and lips. Think about it and you'll inderstand that mostly our mirrors are similar, much more similar that some of us would like or be ready to admit. (Mobile phone rings in JC’s pocket. He waves his hand apologetically, raises from the bench and makes some steps aside. In less than a minute the call is dealt with and he’s back on track.) And I would not like to be regarded as the main hero or a prototype of him! It's an art, i.e. fiction, it's not my story! I had more than eight women for example and never was a father of twins at the end of the day, so all atempts to stuff me - a real person - in frame of this song, of my creation are useless.
R: You say you love women and judging by the poem they obviously love you. So where the endless conflicts and unsatisfaction spring from?
JC: Too much of the good thing maybe? Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it kills...
R: So what would you say to annoyed feminists if they came complaining?
JC: Fuck off and get life!
R: And what about your life? "Exhausted and ready to go" the hero says...
JC: You are bloody right! The HERO says!
R: While the author takes full gulps of lines and kisses?
JC: The author tries his best!
R: And how do you view the old ballad? Do you think it is obsolete and laughable nowadays?
JC: I think it is laughable timelessly. It's as unnatural and artificial as alcohol-free whiskey at a wedding with rubber doll.
R: One last question: Can we expect other "topicalized" versions of old material from you?
JC: It's interesting field, yeah? And almost totally uncultivated, virgin I would say... Yes I am working on it.
With these words JC suddenly gets up and leaves the park as if beckoned by an urgent mission. Or maybe another itch of creativity?
reviews © Zuzana, 2005
interview © MacRua & Zuzana, 2005
photo © unknown
