by Sock

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I bet when we first met you thought it was unconplicated, yet Quite soon we were best by lurking guilt and lingering regret But it's not a hopeless case, although your ex has put a hex in place Let's hope we've seen the last of that blast from the past 'Cos I'll be your emotional baggage handler Let me mix up all your tags and send your broken heart to Broken Hill I'll be your emotional baggage handler Label everything as fragile, you won't end up on the carousel Ohhhh oh, better not miss it Lift off that thin veneer and watch the mental wormholes appear The past will hover near and charge you with an excess of fear But it's not a hopeless case... © Mal Webb 1998
Come in for these wonderful bargains. Come in the store and check out the saving. Open saturdays. If I had a plane, I would fly to the haze on the mountains at the edge of the suburbs. Through the haze on the other side. There's no need, no need to buy. And if you're looking for another size, we'll find! And if you're looking for two dollar gloves, we'll find! There's a lady who's sure that if she stands by the door for three months or more, she'll move all the stock on the floor.
Soft and warm and woolly, feet and ankles fully. Wham! Bam! Biff! Pow! Zowey! Sock! You can stick 'em on your feet and they look really neat, through the snow and the sleet, they'll keep in the heat. S.O.C.K. darn it, sock! OK let's talk about the odd sock, you look for a pair in despair, you can't find one anywhere, and the old pox smelly ones never go missing, you'll be wishing that you'd never bought a new pair in your life, that present from your wife or your mother, you could lose any other, but no, you lose that one, and the one with the hole in the toe? It'll never go! Any colour you please, half way up to your knees, they'll really make you wheeze, like an old smelly cheese.
You don't know what you don't know you don't know If you think you know what you don't know you don't know Then you might as well stop thinking now
Although she has enchanting lips, one thing about relationships Is that there's bound to be some give and take And while she is beyond compare, the witching hour you should beware For there may be a sacrifice to make Even when she's grumpy she's a vision divine Her kids'll probably end up turning water to wine But when we go to bed I get a chill up my spine 'Cos she's a Doona Hog Her views on life make Dostoyevsky seem a bit light She smiles and Max Dupain can't get the aperture right But waking up I found I've been exposed to the night 'Cos she's a Doona Hog Well, she has a subliminal lust for linen And a grip so tight you'll never get it back Oh why is it that ordinary men a women Get greedy every time they hit the sack She's more intoxicating that a bucket of gin And it would take Rodin to cast the line of her chin But give her 20 winks and she'll be reeling it in 'Cos she's a Doona Hog She has a shape that only MC Escher could draw Her IQ is a number only Bradman could score But late at night she only likes to play tug of war 'Cos she's a Doona Hog ©Mal Webb 1994
Yeah, nah, you know, I don't know, maybe. Stacked up at the airport of truth, trying to make a landing. Going round in circles of proof, under no understanding sings seems to say that we can't got on this way. All this self derision leaves me leaping to the wrong decision. I think I think too much. Synapses at battle again, a mental Punch and Judy. Same old puppets, same old refrain, but sporting spunky new designs...
It's falling out And I don't really care If I lose my hair And cause a bit more glare It's falling out Hairfusion's not the way And wigs are so passé A shiny scalp's OK Some call it hairloss, but the only loss I feel Is the loss of lots of stupid friends who think it's some big deal It's falling out And I don't mind it shown That my testosterone Glands are overgrown It's falling out And every fashion head Spends their life in dread But when it's dead it's dead Some call it hairloss, but that's not quite the case When half of all the men you know are gaining forehead space Some call it hairloss, but I don't feel the lack 'Cos now that it's not on my head, it's growing on my back
I'm no better than anyone, nobody's better than me. I want to be like you, but you just want to be like me and there's probably someone else the both of us would like to be. The things we do naturally, we take for granted and our insecurity, the seed is planted easily. When it comes to being you, it's the most you'll ever do. When it comes to being me, I'm the best there'll ever be.
Everybody knows we were meant to be I was meant for you, you were meant for me Cupid shot through and his aim was true And everybody knows but you Everybody knows that the world is ours As soon as we get round to some sacred vows You'll say I do and we'll start anew And everybody knows but you Everybody knows we're a perfect pair and botanists have proved it so Everybody knows we'll live without a care It's just a pity they didn't let you know Everybody knows it's a fait accompli And anyone with doubts better talk to me 'Cos our love is through like the Pope's a Jew And everybody knows but you © Mal Webb 1994
My car doesn't have a stereo system My car doesn't have a cellular phone My car's clock is stuck at 8:50 My car's parked in a tow-away zone But my car's got a nice roofrack Bright and shiny and new It really has a very nice roofrack To carry my love to you My car doesn't like going 'round corners My car doesn't like going uphill My car's engine purrs like a llama My car's fumes make the passengers ill My car doesn't have one straight panel My car doesn't take available parts My car's littered with parking tickets My car's lucky if it even starts © Mal Webb 1991
There's something burning deep inside this place. I felt a glimpse and then I saw no trace. You have to help me, I can't do this alone. Just leave a message and I'll find my way home. And I've got to have you, have you. This is the time and place and I've got o know you, know you. Better keep up the pace. This is not the way it should be. Can you connect me now? Disconnected. I found the answer but I lost the key. I felt the stampede there were only three. The room is bending I can't see the floor. I half expected you behind that locked door. Time will never stand so still. You can always do your best. Patience is its own reward.
You roam from room to room in gloom when no one calls The house abounds with shifting things like pots and bins that sound enough like Knocks and ring to make you drop your cheese on toast You leave your messages in vain when no one calls They languish on machines all over town The red light blinking like a beacon in the fog of missed acquaintances And all the roads are dead ends There's no right turn with one way friends The mormons gain a slight appeal when no one calls And telemarketeers are your best friends Their mythical five minutes tend to bend extending to and hour or more Technology just makes it worse when no one calls The modern most depressing thing's a mobile phone that never rings And grips your hips and limbs like a mistletoe Socials forays flaw you more when no one calls 'Cos meeting in the street they greet you with "How sweet, I almost thought of maybe calling you last week, but then I didn't" To go out is to bout with doubt when no one calls 'Cos returning to your shack to press the playback The engaged signals pierce this waking nightmare like a scimitar © Mal Webb 1998


Acapella trio, Sock was formed in 1997. It was preceded by a group called Milo, formed by David O'Brien (of Burst), Mal Webb (of Oxo Cubans) and Duncan Neil. Duncan and Mal were both into exploring the instrumental side of the voice and their meeting was an explosion of ideas and swapping of tricks. When Duncan sadly left, Dave and Mal sought the vocal and arranging prowess of Reg Ellery (of The Phones and Polyphony) to join the group. Thus Sock was born. The group made the most of the fact that all the members could fulfill any role in the group (bass, lead, beatbox, other stuff), so there's a lot of rapid part swapping going on. They're pretty funny too. They performed at several acapella/folk/comedy festivals around Australia for a few years. Although they've never officially disbanded, they haven't sung together for almost a decade now. There may be more!


released January 1, 1998

Sock is:
Mal Webb (panned 30˚ left)
Reg Ellery (panned centre)
David O'Brien (panned 30˚ right)

Recorded and mixed by Mal Webb. Mastered by Stephen Joyce.




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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