Vedder Vedder Bedwetter

 

Released on compact disc (63189) by Fifth Column Records, 1995.

 

Performed by Rat Bastard, Ben Wolcott, and Tom Smith.

 

1. 5 Seconds off Your Ass

2. Grams, Paths

3. Pig Off, Ass Full

4. Bucks, Rears and Throws the Rider

5. Dungstar Supervivisect!

6. Throws Cunt a Tear

7. O. Ruddock d. "H.S. Mauberley"

8. Long-Drawn and Staccato "Lousy Dime"

9. Shits upon the Debris and Burns

10. Handballed "Viet"-Clasp

11. The The, Which Radiance Overdrenched

12. In Such Wise She Cannot Stir

13. Miff Mole, Witch-Leery Scot

14. Shut the Second She Clawed

15. Rug Trilogy: Christus

16. Like the Two-Part "Nod"

17. Nigh to the HM Threshold

18. M. Polk, Prop.

19. Cobwebs with "Trap" Primrose

20. Glas Employed an Urn

21. Schwann Death in June Reference

22. "Good Bait" Made Butt of Insult

23. The Sink Mentioned in the Scriptures

24. Rubberist, Unwept

25. The The Perms

26. And Hammer, the Crown of Thorns

27. From Gloss "Polytope" Flexi

28. "A," the Swinging She-River

29. Blind Hole without a Piss-Eye

30. "Ulalume"/Fram Decal Split

31. Brother Falling, Twat from Fool

32. Left Bro. at Doors

33. TCB Drop-Skirt

34. Die, One and Five

 

Guests: Bill Orcutt, Don Fleming, Jared Hendrickson, Ned Hayden,

Weasel Walter, and Nondor Nevai.

 

Composed by TS/TLASILA

Engineered by Rat Bastard and Tom Smith.

Mixed and Produced by TS.

 

--

 

5 Seconds Off Your Ass

 

5 seconds off your ass

barely left behind, low and dissolute

sound of falling chain, rasping bolt

called "Sunny Jim" while his brother bloomed

brooked no interference, real love, pederastic love

to good, to good and to God at the same time

slip cards into private letterboxes

my legs get rubbery and I hold doors, open coats

dragging a sheet through a narrow street

up tightly in the front, down again on the loose

drew down his thin lips, raised his eyes

everything in his past pocketed and sterilized

few could stomach cranks, like roasting spits

and his heart was no longer in black crystal

exhaustion and death- and die it does

pours one drink, gives head and you go home

 

5 seconds off your ass

this was a miscalculation

I kiss you and I kiss every speck of gold

sliding inches away from the cute-pig sidewalk

 

5 seconds off your gloved, suffering ass

a hundred eyes, full orchestra, my hair like a caress

few could stomach the arousal and friction

and his heart and half the audience walked...

 

--

 

Grams, Paths

 

grams, paths

overshoot the weakened tongue

thumbed elflock at fat Parnassus

gauge spoke to drag me along

to grams, vain thrashings...

 

--

 

Bucks, Rears and Throws the Rider

 

they tear at you with it 'til you're sick

sitting there with a gaping owl mouth

the emerald pillars of our bridal bed

they promised they would become as gods

I'll wring the blasted fucker's bleeding pointed fangs!

the pomp and drama of his bared, silver-pawned chest

"pussy open bottle three, real fuck show"

I shall assuredly not unbind alone!

 

at the Rastro Slaughterhouse work awaits me

rose whorehouse, sentimental cathouse

bucks, rears and throws the rider

her cunt opened up like a wanton flower

 

they will behold their sins in triple-sting

gashed from mid-back to lower thigh

finished just before his death in 1986

all the unveiled horrors and odious schemes!

brought a blanket from behind the bar

she could feel the calluses on his hands

stiff weeds and tufts of rank stiff growth

where my lips first kissed the shrunken, stoop-kissed sin

 

at the Rastro Slaughterhouse work awaits me

rose whorehouse, sentimental cathouse

bucks, rears and throws the rider!

her cunt opened up like a wanton flower...

 

they tear at you with it 'til you're sick

sitting there with a gaping mushmouth

stiff weeds and tufts of rank stiff dumb despair

where my lips first kissed the arms that struck him dead...

 

--

 

Dungstar Supervivisect!

 

hick took this lubricant

'twas a monstrous scrub-spun lamp

stood like a bestial hostess club!

Dungstar rips your huddled shit

into rose pink vivisect twitch...

 

--

 

O. Ruddock d. "H.S. Mauberley"*

 

Ha-Olem imposts Tahmasp's code!

rub out an eye in holy city Jesus** cult

now nationalized, taken you five times

in blackhorse trick-bag, set aflame...

 

(* I imagined King Tubby having his way with Pound's mighty stanzas, and winning...)

 

(** pronounced en español...)

 

--

 

Shits Upon the Debris and Burns

 

shits upon the debris and burns

voice rang and snapped like a string

made his engine buzz like a blue-bottle

fell shrieking to her farthest, somberest cell

until the sixties when the touts dispensed

the fetid marsh to which she condemned

they lick my boots and my dick and my asshole

huge pink shells held by timid hares

on the evening of the day at ten o'clock

made the halcyon sing her softest, clotted foam

stored it up against her sister, this furious balk

quite satisfied to leave the whole thing alone!

the radiance of which she speaks

voice rang and prodded the bottoms of his feet

actually pulled the clips from her tits

had a torrent of pig-water and stacked deck

 

shits upon the dissolving moments

of virginal self-surrender, censor

shits on the sound of a knife blade!

shits on the letch to fuck you again

 

shits upon the debris and burns

the fetid marsh to which candle butts condemn

the radiance in the twinkling of an eye-plunge

like some wan lily overdrenched with cum...

 

--

 

Handballed "Viet" Clasp

 

a little go-go agent's beloved church

rusted solid in the yard

"the cock is a dull domestic bird"

bore Cain once box-man (B.D.T.*) conceived

spent every Sabbath eve

smashed, reigning in the door frame...

 

(* before Deep Throat)

 

--

 

In Such Wise She Cannot Stir

 

in such wise she cannot stir

name of Lapierre, affected with the pox

now they were stopping at some traffic lights

with the acts of short cycle soon to come

it was loaded onto a palanquin

new cosmetics on the face of a very old whore

which had shut down the work of the playwright

"instead of vulgarizing, they've ennobled!"

brief rest in the cabman's shelter

taking the dog inside the cart

like water bubbling from a murdered jar

but still she carries her parasol

he seemed to hear the noise of dim waves

with the sound of stopgaps soon to come

drew from the pack and bowed to the match

as a hanged man's cock becomes engorged

 

she left the five-foot rock and swirl

sucking smoke through her second teacup teeth

"I turn, I twist, I twirl, I melt and fade!"

in such wise she will not stir today

 

in such wise she cannot stir

new cosmetics on the stomach clawed to shreds

drew from the pack and bowed to its muzzle

in such wise waiting to suck his treading soles...

 

--

 

Miff Mole, Witch-Leery Scot

 

Jim-Crowed out of a dredge

which sucks up sludge

like a ripe "lantern" light

"the game makes us junk, cunt"

ruins were all flower stalls;

drew an answering hail...

 

--

 

Rug Trilogy: Christus

 

hard for mortal men to dig

broods of asps behind his eyes

into an ice-cold curse in jig-time

called in hair-pricked language

launched Christus' storied, blushing blows...

 

--

 

Nigh to the HM Threshold

 

nigh to her milk-hot threshold

made a perfect spoiling without peer

had to leave his deck to masturbate

buffs his nails and waits for business to boom

"un-ringed by the azure world"

slender waist spanned by both hands

well-versed in the field of flophouse pleasures

most bone-bringing drone that ever lived!

began to confess the masses missed

like sweet rain upon his quaking bench

"they are both run by Yakuza"

undone by single acts of consent

but the face with the fixed blue eyes-

limbs are wasted with a monstrous, fading flame

she had read the raising of Lazarus

flowing unhampered between her legs

 

where Anthea first unfoiled her limbs

the musky grove is full of guns

nigh to HM threshold of braided black cord

it must, as faldstool come, hull temple roofs!

 

woman's brain still had to rest

picked the velvet primrose recklesses

nigh to the blacksmithed and pony-trap of my own

with hair like dogs' cobwebs...

 

--

 

M. Polk, Prop.

 

a sweet muffin with a ginger mug

"might like a finger up his ass..."

flecks of blue and black rags wink and flash

pitches common to both classes...

 

M. Polk is Vedder Vedder Bedwetter's doomed protagonist - accidentally run over by his own new car, his life quickly and violently flashes before his eyes (in the time alluded to in "5 Seconds off Your Ass"). But we view it from five angles (thus the five versions of "5" - Miami and NYC studio takes, a dub mix featuring Bill Orcutt, a live version, and a truncated alternate instrumental track), and, congruent with published  accounts of near-death experiences, Polk's final five seconds stretch over a skein of otherworldly measurement.

 

I've always loved Rashomon, although that film's much-aped narrative didn't exert an influence on Vedder. The problem with the album is not with the libretto, its conception, or in the performances (apart from my vocals, which are often perilously strident... I suppose they were appropriate to the time, or at least to my mood, but they still annoy me). It was in the mix - everything is just too fucking loud, and frequencies blur into impenetrable midrange swathes. I've often considered returning to VVB and mixing it properly, but perhaps it is best to let this anomaly stand as is. Not a wholly worthless effort, but one that is nonetheless deeply flawed. (Here, the contiguous mix has been remastered, but not remixed.)

 

Polk's words here represent a micro-moment snatched from flaring synaptic streams - something once overheard, odd enough but to be noted, but ultimately insubstantial. These recollections race through M. Polk's mind as he expires at the foot of his driveway. Given the lubricious quality of this text, I can only surmise that I (or, Polk) was seriously oversexed at the time, and in need of a long cold soak. (Or, more sex.)

 

--

 

Glas Employed an Urn

 

so Glas clutched Castrating Cave

on the public weal, skip-framed,

vulture on the soil-covered corpse

hairy kiss creates a stopping flux

and knelt to the chore...

 

--

 

The Sink Mentioned in the Scriptures

 

for a dyke-hating cop under whose say

pleasant milk, the parlor fire would not draw

all my earthly life can never be as long

as those thirty seconds of kid sister come

they hanged him as a beast is hanged

smut falls and blackens her exquisite tongue

as it is in the novels worthy of Barthes

smoked that "love, yes, police, no" garbage

we find a dreary theme of powerlessness

a bishop, even the present pope is contained

"the works of such a man cannot be re-read"

she bent back suddenly and kissed his head:

"he asks me whose jacket I worship-"

between these extremes, the Opium Road

kept the chair awash in the parasite's blood

adored in his thickness, his odorous excess

 

the sink mentioned in the scriptures

sports punch perms, and third-party penises!

 

for a dyke-hating sink of drab old head

as it is in the novels that cannot be re-read

they hanged him as a sex-starved beast is hanged

revealing legs rather short in the shin

 

--

 

Rubberist, Unwept

 

summon forth "sure is a bitch!"

the terrible prick of quenchless depths

step up or lie with winged foot

suffered in his lucid flesh

unwept, ruled like a

sheet of shit-canned Messiaen...

 

--

 

And Hammer, the Crown of Thorns

 

and Hammer, the Crown of Thorns!

hands dangling to his knees

since he was a multiple offender

wearing the cassock and mantle of an uncle

to outer senses there is peace

for the Hammer crown a godly feast

the horse turned into a double gang-fuck

the shrewd northern face of the mottled potsherd

"You're fighting it," he said, his dick invading

setting a jacinth bell a-swinging

this dumpster heaped high with filth that he trundles

entered his body as living symbols

she kicked the machine into the pile

with goats' blood monstrous miracles

the thorn crown a river-horse in the slime

designed to coax his slicked-up hand

 

and Hammer the crown of slot and jerk

friend must be sundered from friend

no hole was found to support their version

of a lock, after brief flirtation!

 

and Hammer, post-birth, once spent,

plowed a bloody furrow with its dart

the shrewd northern face and shoulders ached

in the prison yard, trading books on the sly...

 

--

 

From Gloss "Polytope" Flexi

 

"the crude loop, hostile to the new,

simpleton, meek distinguished limp,

worst pick-me-up, a gospel, a tomb,

confesses to cross-bred stagnant gun

to make a breach in scowling drool..."

 

--

 

Blind Hole Without a Piss-Eye

 

from high-tongued position to a low

she will awake, I know her well

"what price, ellipsoidal balls!"

better if you slowed yourself down

never before in too much, far too much

astonished by her skill

"your queer face is buried in that snatch-"

you rape the time I'd rather kill!

"I don't give him anything"

in her throaty, caressing dialect

her fragrance falling from his mind

on the very threshold of pregnant dreck

they were pegging down carnations

in the empty booth, behind a pane of glass

"do me real good, so just let it happen

scuff the lube and wipe my hands on your ass!"

 

blind hole without a piss-eye

smacks her charge's rump with a wrist-cuffed riding crop

enlarged six times, fine-spun paradigm

puffed-out and raw, I'd be a fool to stop

 

from high-tongued engine at her twat

her fragrance falling through his teeth

why bother in the face of wig-wormed death

if you stop coming, you start dying...

 

--

 

"Ulalume"/Fram Decal Split

 

nothing touched her!

the luxury of last caprice

where was she going in that rig?

grabs a saucer and flings it!

 

--

 

T.C.B. Drop-Skirt

 

more subtle than cunts and loving kicks in the ass

T.C.B. drop-skirt hopefuls!

"the absolute gowns of negative hours"

dolls' songs, songs miraculously sewn,

face sewn through with mad-bed rags...

 

© 1995 ommyth