Quatro anos de trabalho duro!Neste mês de maio fizemos quatro anos no ar. Continuamos trabalhando na divulgação deste maravilhoso instrumento, obrigado por participar da nossa história!
#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------# #This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the # #song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. # #------------------------------------------------------------------------------## SWELL MAPS - "Vertical Slum"
This is a simple little one-minute postpunk classic from Swell Maps, a late-'70s band of teenage jokers who created a lot of visionary dissonant noise and a few great songs. Thurston Moore and Pavement claim them as a big influence, and if you like Wire's "Pink Flag" album, you'll probably like "A Trip to Marineville," the 1979 album I took "Vertical Slum" from.
Anyway, this song just has one chord pattern, which is played once by itself at the song's beginning, then once again with drums and bass, then repeated six more times under the vocals. No chorus, those crazy kids!
Here's the pattern. All the following are standard barre chords: E // (12th fret) B // (7th) E // (12th) C // (8th) E // (12th) B // (7th) A //// (5th) E / (open)
(Actually, the rhythm varies a little from chord to chord, and from bar to bar - it should all make sense if you hear the song. Sorry for my lack of preciseness, but this is just one of those easy thrash-it-in-a-garage type of deals.)
Lyrics: Got a Rolls Royce It's driving me mad I never thought about it
Got a space Between my eyes I never knew about it
No more ways To excavate you There's no two ways about it
I think that's all There is to say Nothing more ... about it ...
The weather! The leather! The weather! The leather! The weather! The leather! --------------------------------- That's it! Enjoy. This is my first post -- I'll try something more complex next time.
"It's okay that you haven't heard of us - we're just a Swell Maps ripoff." - Bob Nastanovich of Pavement. (Quoted at 2 a.m. one morning in June 1992, to a guy sitting on a porch in my old college town of Columbia, Mo.)