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lyrics

The Fever Beat

Well, it isn't really so,
and if it is,
it's like the fever beat.
I've unscrambled it
It gave out a faint high pitch squeal,
it oooohed and ohhhhhed.
I could hear the odd doof!
then crack!, then prooh!
A pffft - whack, whack whack -
the thudding boop, boop, boop
a doo, doo, doo, doo,
boop, boop, boop, boop.
He went, 'Urrhh, yeah, yeah,'
And then he went,' Urrrhhh! hurrh!.

The little man twitched at the sound
and not worrying about the scrunching noise,
jumped the machine
to different tracks on the disc.
What they'd recorded before
had been a great deal of static.
They hired the very best technicians,
just to be certain that it sounded right.
It was too neat, but who the hell cares?

It was quiet again,
in the centre of the town,
on the ground face down.
With a liquid foam,
the clothes, the shoes, the skin,
and the boneheaded.

Sag from the sky
leak through cracks in the floors
above the length and the width.
Never heavy enough,

A coat of paint absorbed the light,
which never seemed to get brighter
and inch-thick sheets.
A stupid place to fall asleep.

Now with a stiff upper drip,
I checked the slow insidious rain
could be heard or felt
by someone on a layer of pasteboard trailers,
shacks, sheds, and lean-tos,
A hundred thousand fibreglass people
topped with tarpaulin,
strung end to end
block after block of sheds
lighted windows glowed,
littering the insulate,
epitomised the English,
that sort of cold, wet rain.

Suddenly he saw the motorcyclist,
a hurtling beacon or something
blinded him for a moment,
his eyes misted over.
And then he had to ram it with his bus,
sending the Jeep back
across onto the opposite pavement.

The wind cut through his bulky clothing
as he crossed in front of the car,
away from the headlights and the front wheels,
lifting his bus to140 kilometres per hour
and completely off the ground
before flipping and rolling
and spinning off the road.

At the same time as the car screeched and ripped
the door slammed.
And he saw the passenger hurtle
on a diagonal course for the opposite ditch
and the car accelerated towards them
skidding, then righting itself
in a perfectly replicating sequence.

credits

from The Pre​-​War Noise Encryption Standard, released February 3, 2023
Words and music by Nigel Ayers

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Nocturnal Emissions Cornwall, UK

Nocturnal Emissions' Nigel Ayers has continued to work with a strong underground of cult support, avoiding music industry fashions, and following his own creative path he concentrated on creating a strong sense of a wilderness identity through sound.

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