Odds & Cods

Herein lies a collection of antiques and curios recorded live or while rehearsing at Waterats Studio circa 1997-2015. Digitally repolished to the best of my ability (comments not invited). Tracks include “Californians” and “Evolution” by Mick Pugh. As well as being an accomplished guitarist and bass player Pugh was (probably still is) one of those irritating people who can get a tune out of any musical instrument they pick up. An original and idiosyncratic songwriter and lyricist, these particular tunes date back to 1997 and1999 respectively and like so much of his work the deceptively complex song structures are belied by their earworm choruses.
Engaged by Tim Smith for his “shouty” voice Mick was the original vocalist with “Cardiacs” or “Cardiac Arrest” as they were then known... Along with his brother Jon, Pugh was also in a number of bands with Brine, including COD (1994-1999). He will have been pleased to have left before being assigned with a stupid fish name.
This collection of songs remain frozen at rehearsal stage but demonstrate Cod’s peculiar strength (and weakness) of setting sail experimentally in a number of different (sometimes opposing) directions at the same time. None of the tracks included ever became “proper” studio recordings, thus the sound quality is what it is, and we’ll just have to imagine what might have been had the voyage been completed.

The Velvet Curtain

October 2025

Alison Says

Alison says she wants to go to a party. When she gets there, she doesn't want to go

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ALISON SAYS
Alison says she wants to go to a party
When she gets there, she doesn't want to go
Everyone there is such a bunch of smarties
The purple ones are dangerous you know
Alison says, Alison says,
Alison says, Alison says,
Nothing that makes any sense.
Alison says she doesn't want to see me again
Then she calls me and tells me I'm her best friend
She likes the Doors, she listens to the End
Apocalypse Now, she pretends
Alison says, Alison says,
Alison says, Alison says,
Nothing that makes any sense
She's not the sort of girl you can trust
She's never got enough for the bus
She used to have an eating disorder
She promises she's got it sorted........
(Alison says) Alison says,
Alison says absolutely nothing at all.
Alison says she wants to go to a party
When she gets there, she doesn't want to go
She dresses like a bomb in Camden market
And everybody's wearing the same clothes
Alison says, Alison says,
Alison says, Alison says,
Nothing that makes any friends

Words and Music by Brine E.C.
Additional Musical Arrangements by COD
© Brine E.C. 1996
℗ COD 1996
All Rights Reserved

Californians

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Erm sorry. Mick is the only person who might know what the lyrics are

Words and Music by Mick Pugh

Additional Musical Arrangements by COD

℗ COD 1999

Chas Raga

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So what are the lyrics about Chas? In fact what are the lyrics?

Words by Bob Marlin
Musical by Brine
© Brine E.C. /Bob Marlin
℗ Brine E.C. 2015

Evolution

Fifteen million ears of evolution going on inside your head and you fly so high!

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Erm sorry. Mick is the only person who might know what the lyrics are

Words and Music by Mick Pugh

Additional Musical Arrangements by COD

℗ COD 1999

Are You Receiving Me?

Psychedelicatessen

So, we all got sorted by a bloke called Dave. Amount of stuff he’d snorted his teeth looked like the grave

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Psychedelicatessen

She’s top of the poppers a new age every day
Her eyes come out on stoppers she’s got a lot to say
And I listen far away

A tattoo on each shoulder a crescent sun and moon
A shame she must get older she’s a sunny afternoon
But the night-time comes round soon

Psychedelicatessen, Time is of the essence

So, we all got sorted by a bloke called Dave
Amount of stuff he’d snorted his teeth looked like the grave
But we loved him just the same

Welcome to the life of ease
We do just what we damn well please
The sausage roll will pay the fees
We dance just like mad cow disease.

The sun is coming up again
But he must come down
Someone’s throwing up again
In a little town

Psychedelicatessen, Psychedelicatessen

No handbags to dance round the pension posse rule
Like granny at your party, it’s just not very cool
But it’s Grandma’s party too

Psychedelicatessen, Psychedelicatessen, Psychedelicatessen
Psychedelicatessen, Psychedelicatessen, Psychedelicatessen

Is This Your Heaven?

I'll say goodbye to all that's given. Think I'm singing songs of praise, Think I'm going out of phase

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s This Your Heaven?
I can't decide what clothes to wear
I can't be arsed to cut my hair
I shaved it off, but it grew back
Should I experiment with black?
My teenage daughter ran away
Then she came back when old and grey
I'm still the same I heard her say
Relatively speaking anyway
Man in the road in filthy clothes
Shouting at cars he's very far out on a limb
I lock the doors and start to sing
A song by Sting
He's playing chicken in the road
Then the mobile starts to ring
I take the call, it's Thora Hird
She says she wants a quiet word
I point out to her that she's dead
She hopes that I am not disturbed
In fact, continuing research has shown
We all fall off our perch
So now is good my goldfish
Said as he cycled off to bed
Paradise lost, Paradise found
Paradise built on shaky ground
So, San Andreas was your fault
So, you have always been around
Rocker of Ages cleft for me
Could you explain eternity?
The Stana stairlift me to Heaven
Take me to the end of days
I'll say goodbye to all that's given
Think I'm singing songs of praise
Think I'm going out of phase

Untitled Instrumental

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