by Mal Webb

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released January 1, 2008




Mal Webb Melbourne, Australia

Vocal adventurer, multi-instrumentist, looping beatboxing songwriter Mal Webb sings his songs about all manner of stuff, using all sorts of vocal techniques (like sideways yodeling) and plays guitar, bass, mbira, slide trumpet, trombone, chromatic harmonica, bass and piano. He's like Bobby McFerrin, Aphex Twin and Cole Porter playing scrabble. Ani DiFranco said to Mal: "You're a freak!"
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Track Name: Dodgy

The ugly duckling buckling under pressure to conform to the norm, fit the form
The other ducklings all think it's important he get his neck shortened, dye his down, they gather round saying

Dodgy dodgy dodgy, the little ducks say, dodgy dodgy dodgy, DODGY!x2

Oh, how the average can be so mean, is his pain a gain for their self esteem?
But the ugly duck says "I don't give a damn, I am who I am, all I can do is really

Try to be as me as I can be, try to be about as me as I can be"x2

The other ducklings laugh swim away, but one little duck decides to stay
She's kinda dodgy in her own sweet way, she waddles up to him to say "hey, I like you cos you're dodgy..."

So this daggy duo form a dud duck club, but so increasing reason for teasing
It's dodgy duck season, together their hearts bleed, through tears they repeat the Dud Duck Creed
"Try to be..."

Then flying onto the pond one day a long tall stranger comes their way
The mother ducks all say "Ooh what a guy", but something else catches his eye
He glides across to the ducklings where they're absorbed in taunting the dud duck pair
He says "why do you endure this abuse? You're a swan and you're friend here's a goose"

In a flash it all becomes clear, the big feet, the neck and the voice so queer
To be a swan's cool, all the ducks agree, they're all craning their necks and all longing to be dodgy...

Duck chicks are quackin onto him, but his little goose friend's at a loose end, out on a limb
It seems geese are the least and get teased all day, so he leaps to her aid with a need to say

Whether you're a duck or swan or goose
To be stuck on what you're not's a lame excuse
Why not be as you as you can do
Only you can be as truly you as you

In another flash a backlash happens and the passionate pair fall foul of fashion
Fickle trends tend to wend forever
But a swan and a goose can be friends however dodgy...

©Mal Webb 2006

It's an old story, but a goody... with just a few changes.
Track Name: Whinge

My life is really pox, I've really got it bad
I've got it worse than anybody else has ever had
The people starving in the third world really should be glad
Compared to me they've really got no reason to be sad
If they could comprehend the way I feel
They'd realised they've got a damn good deal

Have a good whinge
Have a good whine
Have a good moan
Don't just pout, let it out
Have a good weep
Have a good cry
Have a good groan
Oh oh oh oh boo hoo

You think I've got it good, that I'm unfairly blessed
But heightened expectations make me misery obsessed
So much free time and cash to waste and guilt to be repressed
You need an education to be nearly this depressed
My degree of tragedy's beyond your comprehension
If old folks knew I'm so blue, they'd all give me their pension...

Don't just fume, let it boom...
Wo wo wo...... woe is me
The more you have, the more you have to complain about

Get over it you say, but I won't be refraining
'Cos now I'll whinge about you whining over my complaining
A whinge whinge situation can be really rather draining
I'm waning just explaining it and damn it, now it's raining
My despair's beyond compare, in time you'll learn
I've suffered for my art, now it's your turn

Don't just fume, let it boom
Don't hold back, go the hack

© Mal Webb 2007
Track Name: Designer Dog
Designer Dog

Poor old designer dog was never ever meant to be
Poor old designer dog, so hairy he can barely see
Poor old designer dog, he's cooking underneath the shag
Poor old designer dog, he doesn't have a tail to wag
But designer dog makes me look good
As I power walk the neighbourhood
He's so ugly and bizarre
He helps us all forget how dull we are

One designer dog's so thin
His bones and organs poke out of his skin
He trembles like a leaf
No pedigree could cover up his grief

Poor old designer dog was never ever meant to be
Poor old designer dog, so hairy he can barely see
Poor old designer dog, designed to waddle, wheeze and drool
Poor old designer dog, he doesn't have a sleigh to pull
But designer dog co-ordinates
With all the latest fashion plates
But when he is no longer chic
He'll be down the pound within a week

One designer dog's insane
He's been so inbred he's got no brain
Except a tiny smear
Enough to make him bite you on the ear

You've gotta get a little bit of hybrid vigour
In your litter to make it fitter
You've gotta get a mutt
You've gotta get a mongrel!

©Mal Webb 2007
Track Name: Drop
Drop (or "Your One Drop")
It's just a drop in the ocean you say
It wouldn't make any difference anyway
But the ocean's nothing more
Than a whole lot of drops like yours
Your one drop (*!*) could make a splash
Make a ripple, make a wave
That'll roll non-stop
And ride a rising tide of resonating thoughts
Provoke a commotion
Requiring a voice, promote locomotion
Movement of the feet to deplete that defeated feeling
Stamp out your doubts out loud
Imagine your drop up high in a thunder cloud
Raining down on the arm of a farmer or maybe
It could be a tear on the cheek of a baby
Or the dew on a spider's web at dawn
Is it a spit drip flipping from the lip of a glib politician?
Is it the final critical addition to a magic potion?
An unending blending harmonizing emotion
Mix right through
Til you are the ocean and the ocean is you
Let a metaphor be a matter for discussion
Don't underestimate the repercussions
Your ways could well
Strike a chord or ring a bell
Infinity stretches large and little
Which leaves you right in the middle
Despite the big bill
Your amount can still count

©Mal Webb 2006
Track Name: Fourth Arm
4th Arm

Embracing sweetly on the side
All mingled lips and limbs amidst a mist becalm
But bent betwixt our beating breasts
I always get the 4th arm

That losing hand I have to fold
When by mistake I poke her face I mean no harm
Let's shuffle off this coital maul
'Cos I always get the 4th...

The 4th arm, there's no place for it
The 4th arm, you can't avoid it
It's always awkward, that's part of its charm
As sure as 4 is 2 and 2 it's true
There'll always be a 4th arm

The 1st arm likes to play around
The 2nd arm is free to roam from head to toe
The 3rd arm sneaks beneath the neck
But the 4th arm has no place to go

It may be crushed by writhing ribs
Or jutting upward like a wilting potted palm
Vestigial like Skippy's paw
'Cos I always get the 4th arm

She gets the phone when it rings late at night
I get the blinds when the morning's too bright
In Squatter, she always gets her favorite farm
And while we take turns on the tea and toast, I always get the 4th arm

A grumbling gut provokes debate
Proprioception sounds a tingling alarm
Confusing choosing whose is whose
But I always get the 4th arm

An amputee may have the edge
A phantom limb could snuggle in without a qualm
While I bemoan my flesh and bone
'Cos I always get the 4th...

©Mal Webb 2000
Track Name: Pi
3am upon a mattress sees* the hands approach a figure so significant
Converging on a curve
But she's not your standard deviant 'cos our bizarre love polygon has morphed into
The fractal shape of lurve

As we share in a dim sim, a tree** will shade our flirty lip tickle ***
i trip on the square root of minus one
Though pi's not so oblique a thing, with a pencil, pin and piece of string
That old familiar ring can soon be wrung

Just measure your way around the circumference of any circle
Then divide it by its diameter and thence, find it lurking
In the work you would do defining it's true sense of infinity
Your digits touch the sky with pi.....

A fraction of her is not the answer, like a statue's not a dancer
She's a whirling dervish dining on red cordial and twisties
You may insist she's difficult, but don't dither as you slither down that river to forever
To quiver in the endless Rumba, sleeping ceaseless slumber
'Cos it's then she has your number

I think people who like pi are cute****
Their lives are full, they have a ball
So people who hate pi are square and flat*****
As a tan gent who co-signs obtusely into sex at random
The right angles formulaic lines attract******

****pi r3 (3D, hence the ball)
*****pi r2 (2D, hence the flat)
******don't ask!

©Mal Webb 2000
Track Name: Soy Dandy
Soy Dandy
Soy dandy, pour latte soy dandy
If you've any handy hand me soy dandy

No coffee, tea, bonox or brandy
The one drug to expand me can be soy dandy

Roasted dandelion root's therapeutic to boot
Though it's taste has acquired a disputed repute
Lighten up avec lait d'Legume or Bovine
If it's your cup of tea, honey, sure we'll be fine

And dandy, our livers demand we
Deliver soy dandy blandly or grandly

Though strangely, the French say "pissenlit"
While "dent de lion" is, frankly, soy dandy

Now, the tooth of the Lion is the truth of the name
For the leaf has a line which is somewhat the same
Just as "soy" must have been* from the Spanish "to be"
But two bees may or may not** mean honey, you see

How Gandhi, on legs thin and bandy
Walked in, took a stand, demanding soy dandy

And Teddy once begged Andy Pandy
"Lose Looby Loo's candy. You need soy dandy"

Like beaches are sandy, I need soy dandy
Like stud bulls are randy, I need soy dandy
Like beer and lemonade is shandy, I need soy dandy

©Mal Webb 2001
**two bee or not... that is the question
Track Name: Magpie
I heard a pretty magpie that sings in the tree
"Tell me dear bird what you're singing to me
A message of love? Of joyous good cheer?
Of sweet happiness for all mankind to hear?
(for all mankind to hear?)"

To this, the pretty magpie replied in a thrice:
"Sadly reality isn't so nice
I'm warning those near of my murderous streak
To clear off or feel the sharp tip of my beak

"Keep away or there may well be blood on the branches
And my foes know for sure there be no second chances"

And so unto the magpie I cried in dismay:
"How could you dare to mislead me this way
The gist of your lilting mellifluous song
Is twisted and foul! Are you sure it's not wrong?
(Are you sure it's not wrong?)"

Then quoth the surly magpie, its beak in a sneer
"Humans are hopeless! You have no idea
Your arrogance fully outweighs your true worth
You're just one of billions of species on earth

"Kindly take no delight in my song of reprisals
Get out of my sight or I'll peck out your eyeballs
(peck out your eyeballs x lots)"

©Mal Webb 2001
Track Name: Knot

As you two view to tie the knot, let's cast our minds to hitches
With binding lines in swinging reels, you may wind up in stitches

Now any able seaman, leading scout and social climber
Could tell you what's the knot that's got the lot, but here's a primer

A Sheet Bend's good in bed, despite discrepancy of rope
Tonight you might unite and quite dyslexicly, I'd hope

A Reef Knot leaves you on the rocks and in a bind you'll be
You'll take a dive, you'll get the bends, washed up and all at sea

A Sheepshank only shortens things, but dinner might be roast
A Clove hitch adds some spice, but only ties onto a post

Please be afraid not as your close knit family lines entwine
Some snarls and twists are normal when they wind up on the wine

A Truckie's Hitch pulls 2 to 1, could tie you down real tight
A Butterfly loop loop's the bight when there's no end in sight

Round Turn and 2 half hitches has a bigamous repute
A fly bi guy with double brides and Double Bows to boot

Now Figure 8s and Bowlines only tie rope to itself
You'll find one liners of this kind get left upon the shelf

A knot you can't undo won't do, so tangled webs beware
Reply your twines from time to time, repair the wear and tear

A nerdy knot nut might like Zeppelin or Ashley bends
Or delve the depths of string/knot theory maths to meet their ends

True Lover's knot sounds negative, a slipknot's bound to flop
A Noose and Jug Sling should hang out with friends who like a drop

A Whatknot is a Backward Granny, simple, sweet and strong
But comes to Grief and falls apart if tied just slightly wrong

So now it's up to you to choose the best and lose the worst
In love's three legged human race you're bound to tie for first

©Mal Webb 2004
Track Name: Fried Larynx
Fried Larynx
As my voice hangs halfway between my heart and my head
There's some hefty haggling over how things are said
Heaps of hard fought dealings between my thoughts and feelings
Completely losing the thread, grunt, grown or growl instead

As my heart/head parliament votes a phrase into play
My libido leaps up and lurches into the fray
Like a lower house lobbyist on a hip height hobby horse
Who insists what I say must let it have its way

Like I'd love to sleep with you but I'm not very tired
Get into your pants but they're not my size, as required
Coffee beans and etchings have never seemed that fetching
To me and my wayward words, off with the bees and birds

As my poor fried larynx appeases heart, head and hips
There's a brawl 'twixt uvula, glottis, teeth, tongue and lips
Pumping lungs, guts grumbling and my hand's flap fumbling
For a way to display just what I meant to say

Vocal chords imprisoned within a mind/soul schism
Don't be surprised if I may say nothing much today

©Mal Webb 2001
Track Name: Missing Link
Missing Link
(for Neeny and Gran)
These three chords plait together into song
To make Cupid's bow twang along
If brainclouds have made you take a dive
Play 145
And cherubs tend to thrive

With love for the missing link
The hole in the grail, the kitsch in synch
Ice cream's lovely and Vegemite rocks
But mixing them's bound to be pox
And yet it's the meeting of extremes
Exceeds your dreams
As foul as it first seems

With love...
The homework the dog once ate
The odd sock's mate
My smile might make you think that I'm insane
If gormless aloof is your game
I don't know you from a bar of soap
But I'd still hope
We'd help each other cope

With love...and Shrödinger's old cat
At this point you'd expect a middle eight
A bridge with a 6 could be great
Although if there's nothing to improve
Repeat the move
A rut is just a groove

With love...
And, of course, it goes without saying that
I don't long to be right at every turn
When wrong's such a bright way to learn
And if there's no answer there to miss
Accepting this
Is tantamount to bliss

With love...
Not to mention...
End with wit and profundity sublime
If not then at least make it rhyme
So flap little dove and rise above
The "push and shove"
And good old "hand in glove"

With love for the missing link
The hole in the grail, the kitsch in synch
The homework the dog once ate
The odd sock's mate and Shrödinger's old cat
And, of course, it goes without saying that...
Not to mention...

© Mal Webb 2000
Track Name: Turtle
I try to be everything to everyone in every way
I try to be everywhere with every answer, every day
But I'm spreading out so thin, my smile's caving in
Until I'm slightly less than nothing to myself
It's not a race you can win
Go for a place within your skin

Horizons get closer the lower you get
They're rising if only to help the sun set
Well, the moon is in her ball gown and we're waltzing into space
And the band'll still be playing when we finish up the race

Gonna take the longest road to the furthest place
Gonna take the lightest load at the slowest pace
My turtle taught us how we oughta steer
So maybe when we get there we're gonna be right here
We'll be right here

The roses need a sniff, the dog could use a pat
It isn't that much, but it's making a start
And I won't panic if I hang for a chat
I only want to march to the beat of my heart

I'm dizzy, I must have been chasing my tail
Too busy to notice my bread going stale
Well, I haven't got a long face and I'll say it 'til I'm hoarse
But get these blinkers off and I'll probably find I'm way off course

© Mal Webb 2000
Track Name: URFES

There's a woman in the crowd
Who doesn't seem to like the show
Then again maybe she loves it
But hasn't let her face know
That's URFES
Unfortunate Resting Facial Expression Syndrome
That's URFES
You know it, you've seen the same, now it's got a name

Now I'm on an escalator
And arriving at the top
But there's a seven person pile up
When the guys in front stop
Escalator Ending Stop And Ponder Syndrome...

Now I'm sitting at the airport
And my flight's called through
People stampede like elephants
Just to stand in a queue
Unnecessary Racing To Wait In Line Syndrome

And there's TWALPIS
Texting Walking And Lamp Post Interface Syndrome
And there's SMELBOS
Sunday Morning Early Leaf Blower Orchestra Syndrome
And there's MURSAS
Making Up Ridiculous Sydrome Acronyms Syndrome
You know it, you've seen the same, now it's got a name

©Mal Webb 2006
Track Name: Contraceptive Personality
Contraceptive Personality
You're not dumb, so ignorance, for you, is no excuse
You look fine, you're not a swan, but still you're not a goose
But you haven't got lucky for a long time
You can't figure out what you've been doing so wrong
But you'll find what's got you in a bind is lurking in your mind

A contraceptive personality
It'll thwart you every time you talk
A contraceptive personality
It's a bummer, but you'll never need condoms or fork out for child support

You dress well, you never wear your mocckies* in the street
You don't smell, you're neither fetid filth nor sickly sweet
But you haven't got lucky for a long time
You search the whole planet for a reason why
But instead, the thing you really dread is stuck there in your head

A contraceptive personality
It'll rear when your chance is near
A contraceptive personality
But you'll never get the wet spot, sleep deprivation or gonorrhoea

You're not that unattractive when it's not interactive
But with a flapping jaw then you don't score at all

You're the best friend anyone could ever find
And I need to remind you I mean to be kind
But it's true love that you're really running from
You're convinced it'll bomb so you lose your aplomb
You're not dumb, you dress well, you don't smell and that's good
You talk yourself out of any chance you get
But these fears, the source of all your tears, are right between your ears
No lying, crying, sighing, dying, vying
For a place in the race for a trace
Of your personal space

*Moccasins: Dubious streetwear.

©2000 Mal Webb
Track Name: Sound of Love
Sound of Love

Every oscillator
Needs an resonator
To find their perfect key
Freak out on their frequency
Reach a sonic boom
In tune with the room
Sweet harmonics up above
It's the sound of love

Make a little note
Make a little noise
Make a little nothing
Then do it again, do it again
It's the love of sound
It's the sound of love

Overtones on a drone
Moan and groan
In the zone, the beats kick in
A riff, a loop, a lick in to a groove
Deep and embracing, hearts racing
Chasing passion's waves crashing above
It's the sound of love

© Mal Webb 2007