Home From Home

CD ONE: main tracks recorded at Tom Robinson's New Year party for Castaway Club members in Europe, at: WETTEREN Zaal Nova (January 1998). Additional tracks recorded at OOSTEND Bierco (January 1997)

Tom Robinson (acoustic guitar / keyboards / sequencers / vocals)
Adam Phillips (electric guitar / spanish guitar / backing vocals)
Additional acoustic guitar by Peter Blegvad (special guest at Wetteren)
Additional keyboards by Tom Robinson

Recording, editing and post-production by Paul Phippin
Mastered by Paul Phippin at Whistlewood Audio, England

Live show production team:
Front Of House Engineer Glynn Wood
Lighting Engineer Diethard Monbaliu
Road Manager Mark Dyde
Merchandise Manager Marie Claude Lapeze
PA supplied by Roche PA Hire

*Wetteren party organised & promoted by Raf De Graeve (De Notelose Notelaar) and Accent Graeve productions.

*Oostend party organised & promoted by Alain Tournoy (BierCo) and Roger & Mieke Christians (Roche PA Hire)

1) Living In A Boom Time

Whatever happened to the old brigade
The hopes we had and the plans we made
Days and nights we spent together
Now those days, they are gone forever

Martin studied and he made the grade
Emigrated to the USA
Now he working for Edison Con
On a research project, making a bomb

Ben been selling retirement homes
Pinstripe whistle, cellnet phone
Ripping off pensioners don't look that good
If he didn't do it some other guy would

Pad those shoulders, swing those hips
Wise up suckers - read my lips...
everybody got

New opportunities...
knock-knock-knocking in a boom time
New opportunities...
Let's forget about the gloom time...
We've all got new opportunities...
knock-knock-knocking in a boom time
New opportunities...
Let's forget about the doom time (soon time)

Margo's happy with her cats and dogs
Given up people as a total loss
Says dumb animals have got no choice
Firebombs laboratories to give 'em a voice

Dave just privatised his council flat
Home owner, drop of a hat
Interest went up, he couldn't pay
Big corporation gonna take it away

Shrug those shoulders, just get hip
Wise up suckers - read my lips...
everybody got

New opportunities...
Knock-knock-knocking in a boom time
New opportunities...
Let's forget about the gloom time...
We've all got new opportunities...
Knock-knock-knocking in a boom time
New opportunities...
Let's forget about the doom time (soon time)

Living in a boom time...
Living in a boom time...
Said we're all living in a boom time now

Jamie's working out at the gym
No more dangerous living for him
Given up alcohol and ecstasy
Ever since he diagnosed HIV

No more parties, no more trips
Wise up suckers, read my lips... these are your

New opportunities...
Knock-knock-knocking in a boom time
New opportunities...
Let's forget about the gloom time...
We've all got new opportunities...
Knock-knock-knocking in a boom time
New opportunities...
Let's forget about the doom time (soon time)

Living in a boom time...
Living in a boom time...
Said we're all living in a boom time now

Tom Robinson/Mark Ambler/Danny Kustow (Notting Hill Music)

2) You Tattooed Me (Piano Version)

I was stranded up in Antwerp
in the Summer of '54
There were teeming streets full of refugees
And rumours of a new world war
I was waiting at the station
when a newcomer arrived
You took your place & fixed me
with those crazy hazel eyes

Your coat was old & worn,
the rags around your feet were torn
You pressed right up beside me with your hips
And quite to my surprise
I was kind of hypnotised
When you reached & took
the cigarette from in between my lips

The boarding house was crowded
where I followed you in fright
You slammed the door behind us
& smashed the electric light
You said "why try to fight it?" -
I could feel my racing heart
Then you nuzzled up like an animal
And you kissed me in the dark

We wrecked the bed & went,
and never paid a cent
I drank the fare and never made the train
Till I was 25 I was only half alive
And I hardly knew what hit me when you came

And tattooed me... tattooed me
I hardly knew what hit me when you came

We shacked up in a basement
after breaking down the door
With bedbugs in the blankets,
broken bottles on the floor
We were penniless & hungry,
having arguments and fights
I was coughing blood all winter
but I'd never been more alive

And then one fatal day
you volunteered your life away
While I was way too weak to be alarmed
And when I was drunk asleep
as you left to join the fleet
You tattooed your name
with a needle in my arm

You tattooed me tattooed me
Tattooed me with a needle in my arm

With the peace talks in Geneva
we slowly crawled away
From the brink of the unthinkable
and began to breathe each day
There were rumours you'd deserted,
then no more letters came
My life was wrecked but I did my best
To pick up the bits again

And when I was on the mend
I drifted back to Zaventem
And worked unloading cargo from a plane
I began to pay my way
on a thousand francs a day
And as time went by I realised
we'd never meet again

You tattooed me... tattooed me
I knew that we would never meet again

Words and music by Tom Robinson

3) Spain

Leaving London in the pouring rain
Climbed high into the blue again
Over Europe, above an ocean
I was out on my own
On the tarmac, sunlight in my eyes
Like a furnace - half hypnotised
In the haze I saw the mainland
Then I knew you were home

Spain... I finally came to Spain
Across the straits in Spain
Where I want to be...
Won't you come home with me ?

Battered taxis in the marketplace
Narrow streets, little alleyways
I was restless - kind of breathless
Still trapped in the past
Nightfall under the battlements
Sidewalk cafes and mandolines
Across a table in the lamplight
When I met you at last

Spain... I finally came to Spain
Across the straits in Spain
Where I want to be...
Won't you come home with me ?

Spain... you finally found me
Spain... your arms around me
Spain... where I want to stay
Won't you come home

Don't go - won't you stay with me
Leave home, fly away with me
Who will find us or remind us
When our moment is gone

Spain... I finally came to Spain
Across the straits in Spain
Where I want to be...
Won't you come home with me ?

Spain... you finally found me
Spain... your arms around me
Spain... where I want to stay
Won't you come home

Tom Robinson / Peter Acock (Duncannon Music/Notting Hill Music)

4) July 13th, 1985

July the thirteenth, 1985
was the day we watched Live Aid
The global jukebox came alive
To feed the world that day
We fed the world that day

It was a day for a party
We made a lot of food
And we ate it, sure as hell
Vegetarian salads -
They had no meat
There was leftovers as well
Everybody laughed when I said
"Think of all the people
Either dying or dead -
Let's take all the leftovers,
Send them to the starving people
In Ethopia"
(My mother used to say that)

Sure I was glad to give money
'Cause it was not a Political Cause
I just remember the smiling faces
The music and the applause
I spent sixty quid on coke
I smoked a little too much dope
I was wiped out from five to seven
I missed Spandau Ballet and The Cars
(Doh !)

July the thirteenth, 1985
was the day we watched Live Aid
The global jukebox came alive
To feed the world that day
We fed the world that day

Well the music, it was brilliant -
And that Madonna, she sure can move !
By the time Paul McCartney's
microphone failed
We were all well into the Live Aid Groove
And Paul McCartney sang:
"Let it b... " (silence)
Which must have been
a little bit of an irony
'Cause if you let it be
nothing's gonna change or improve
Still it was one of the first times
I'd ever seen a real, live Beatle
Playing a real live Beatles Song
Live on the television - I only wished
Julian Lennon had turned up
in place of his recently dead father -
I was really moved...

July the thirteenth, 1985
was the day we watched Live Aid
The global jukebox came alive
To feed the world that day
We fed the world that day

Well the powerful force of Pop Music
Solved the problems to feed the world
Too bad there weren't any blacks involved
There was Everything But The Girl
Bob Geldof showed no ego
That man should get the Nobel Prize
By the time he sang the solo
on "Feed The World"
I thought he should be canonised

Sure, I felt guilty 'bout the starving
But I felt glad to be alive
As a matter of fact I shed a tear or two
During the very moving video
for that great Cars song, "Drive"
Saint Bob made me feel like shit
So I took out an envelope and opened it:
I put in a very crisp ten pound note -
It was the same one I'd used earlier
to snort my coke
(And that made me feel good inside...)

July the thirteenth, 1985
was the day we watched Live Aid
The global jukebox came alive
To feed the world that day
We fed the world that day

But you can't go on
like there's nothing wrong...

Who's gonna drive you home
Tonight ?

Words and music by John Wesley Harding
Published by Plangent Visions Music

Le coeur bien au chaud, les yeux dans la bière
Chez la grosse Adrienne de Montalant
Avec l'ami Jojo et avec l'ami Pierre
On allait boire à nos vingt ans
Jojo se prenait pour Voltaire - et Pierre pour Casanova
Et moi, moi qui étais le plus fier
Moi, je ne me prenais que pour moi
Et quand vers minuit passaient les notaires
Qui sortaient de l'hôtel des Trois Faisans
On leur montrait notre cul et nos bonnes manières
En leur chantant...

Les bourgeois, c'est comme des cochons
Plus ça devient vieux, plus ça devient bête
Les bourgeois, c'est comme des cochons
Plus ça devient vieux, plus ça devient...

Le coeur bien au chaud, les yeux dans la bière
Chez la grosse Adrienne de Montalant
Avec l'ami Jojo et avec l'ami Pierre
On allait brûler nos vingt ans
Voltaire dansait comme un vicaire - et Casanova n'osait pas
Et moi, moi qui restais le plus fier
Moi, j'étais presqu' aussi saoul que moi
Et quand vers minuit passaient les notaires
Qui sortaient de l'hôtel des Trois Faisans
On leur montrait notre cul et nos bonnes manières
En leur chantant...

Les bourgeois, c'est comme des cochons
Plus ça devient vieux, plus ça devient bête
Les bourgeois, c'est comme des cochons
Plus ça devient vieux, plus ça devient...

Le coeur au repos, les yeux bien sur terre
Au bar de l'hôtel des Trois Faisans
Avec maître Jojo, et avec maître Pierre
Entre notaires on passe le temps
Jojo parle de Voltaire, et Pierre de Casanova
Et moi, moi, moi qui suis resté le plus fier
Moi, je ne parle que de moi
Et c'est en sortant vers minuit, M. le Commissaire
Qui tous les soirs de chez la Montalant
De jeunes peigne-culs nous montrent leur derrières
En nous chantant...

Les bourgeois, c'est comme des cochons
Plus ça devient vieux, plus ça devient bête
Les bourgeois, c'est comme des cochons
Plus ça devient vieux, plus ça devient...

Words and music by Jacques Brel

Hier machten Hünde ihr Geschäft (immer an der Wand lang)
Heute ist der Platz besetzt (immer an der Wand lang)
Wessen Zukunft ist verschwommen
Heimatlos und mitgenommen
Laßt sie nach Berlin herkommen
Und tango and der Wand entlang

Letzte Tango an der Wand
Liebling, gib' mir deine Hand
Jedes Kind im Ganzen Land singt:
"Ich bin ein Berliner"

Kommu-Kapi-Apokal-ismus (immer an der Wand lang)
Kamikaze Pazifizmus (immer an der Wand lang)
Wessen Zukunft ist verschwommen
Zählen Greise Megatonnen
Laßt sie nach Berlin herkommen
Und tango and der Wand entlang

Letzte Tango an der Wand
Liebling, gib' mir deine Hand
Jedes Kind im Ganzen Land singt:
"Ich bin ein Berliner"

Stepp' doch mal auf dem Vulkan (immer an der Wand lang)
Macht die rote Lichter an (immer an der Wand lang)
Auf dem Boden um zu sonnen
Ihr habt den Blumentopf gewonnen
Braucht nur nach Berlin zu kommen
Und tango an der Wand entlang

Letzte Tango an der Wand
Liebling, gib' mir deine Hand
Ich weiß gar nix von diesem Land, da
Ich bin kein Berliner

Immer an der Wand lang
Immer an der Wand,
Immer an der Wand entlang

Tom Robinson and Horst Königstein (Notting Hill Music/FDH Music)
TR solo single on Konkurrenz / Phonogram 1981

7) The Last Days Of Caruso
Spoken word story - no lyrics
Tom Robinson (Manta Ray Publishing)

8) Sorrento

Here where the sea shines brightly, with the wind's crescendo
On an old terrace looking out over the bay of old Sorrento
A man embraced a young girl, shaken with emotion
Then he turned away & sang as though his heart was broken

Te voglio bene assaie
Ma tanto tanto bene sai
è una catena ormai
che sciolglie il sangue dint'e vene sai

He saw lights out at sea, thought of the nights back in America
But it was only the fishing lamps & white foam of a boat's propellor
He stood up from the pianoforte, trying to ease his fever
Then in a sudden shaft of moonlight even death felt sweeter;
Her eyes were shining, greener than the sea around him
He caught a sudden flash of tears and felt his heart was drowning

The operatic tenor makes a false assertion
With makeup and make believe, that he's another person
But when somebody's eyes so near and real observe you
Your mind becomes a fog, and every word deserts you;
Memories mean nothing, even the nights back in America
Your life was like the foam of a boat's propellor
The ripples die away - with no regrets or rancour
And he smiled as he began his final stanza

Te voglio bene assaie
Ma tanto tanto bene sai etc.

Lucio Dalla (BMG Music) with English translation by Tom Robinson

9) War Baby

Only the very young
and the very beautiful can be so aloof
Hanging out with the boys, all swagger and poise
I don't even care what other people are there
I just stare and stare and stare

I see your shadow in the swimming pool
I see your face in the shaving mirror
Time and time and time again
I follow your footsteps
so quietly up the backstairs
And I hope and I pray
you're never going to find me there

Smooth skin and tenderness
long ago on a dark night
Wish I could see you once again
just to remember it was true
I want to be still beside you -
quiet and still beside you
Listening to your breathing
and feeling your warmth again

War baby - you were a
War baby - this means
War baby - I'm scared, so scared
Of whatever it is you keep putting me through

I don't think I could stand
another ten years of this fighting
All this stabbing and wounding -
only getting my own back
I don't want to batter you
to your feet and knees and elbows
When I'm kneeling like a candle
at the foot of my own bed

Corresponding disasters every night on the TV
Sickening reality keeps gripping me in its guts
All my friends talk and joke and laugh about Armageddon
But like a nightmare it's still waiting there
at the end of every day

War baby - you were a
War baby - this means
War baby - I'm scared, so scared
Of whatever it is you keep putting me through

So here we all are back in the Zaal Nova
On a cold dark weekend night,
forgotten by the world outside
Out in the houses...
people finish their dinner and watch TV
Get ready for bed and dream about the winter
You and me, we're so so alone
in the middle of this crowded room

War baby - you were a
War baby - talking about the third world
War baby - I'm scared, so scared
Of whatever it is you keep putting me through

Tom Robinson and Mark Ramsden (Notting Hill Music)

10) Glad To Be Gay (1998 version)

The British Police are the best in the world
I don't believe one of these stories I've heard
'Bout them raiding our pubs for no reason at all
Lining the customers up by the wall
Picking out people and knocking them down
Resisting arrest as they're kicked on the ground
Searching their houses and calling them queer
I don't believe that sort of thing happens here

Sing if you're glad to be gay
Sing if you're happy that way, hey
Sing if you're glad to be gay
Sing if you're happy that way

The papers in Britain are really the pits
Commissioned by bigots & written by shits
They plaster their pages
with bingo & tits
Then add all the scandal
and slander that fits
They pick out their victims,
destroying their lives
They sneer as they smear
as they damn and despise
If it's paedophile teachers or lesbian nuns
If it's filth and it's fiction...
it's there in The Sun

Sing if you're glad to be gay
Sing if you're happy that way, hey
Sing if you're glad to be gay
Sing if you're happy that way

And now there's a nightmare
They blame on the gays
It's brutal and lethal and slowly invades
The medical facts are ignored or forgot
By the bigots who think
It's the judgement of God
Attacked by the Vatican,
bashed by The Bill
With cheap politicians all making a kill
The message is simple
and obvious, please
Just lay off the patients
and let's fight the disease

And sing if you're glad to be gay
Sing if you're happy that way, hey
Sing if you're glad to be gay
Sing if you're happy that way

For 21 years now I've fought for the right
For people to love just whoever they like
But the right-on and righteous
are out for my blood
Now I live with my kids and a woman I love
Well if gay liberation means freedom for all
A label is no liberation at all
I'm here and I'm queer and I do what I do
And I'm not gonna wear... a straitjacket for you

No - I say: sing if you're glad to be gay
Sing if you're happy that way, hey
Sing if you're glad to be gay
Sing if you're happy that way

Tom Robinson (Konkwest Music)

11) Rum Thunderbird

Rum, thunderbird wine and coke
Snakebite and skunk, a snort and a smoke
I wanna get legless and fly like a bird -
That's the most natural thing in the world
(That's the most natural thing in the world)

I get up each morning at twenty to seven
I work till it's way after five
Yes sir and no sir, I'm Mister Control, sir
I do what I need to survive
I go out each evening, get drunk with my buddies
Crawl back in the dead of the night
Lying in bed when I'm out of my head
I can feel what I need deep inside

Rum, thunderbird wine and coke
My mouth is as dry as the back of my throat
I'm wrecked in the bedroom and ready to hurl
That's the most natural thing in the world
(That's the most natural thing in the world)

Flying with CDs and Es at the flat
On a weekend my best friend and I
Are drinking and drinking and both of us thinking
The things we all think when we're high
The ceiling is reeling, I know how you're feeling
About to crash out for the night
If we became closer well no-one would know, so
Roll over and switch out the light - oh yeah

Rum, thunderbird wine and coke
I wanna get touched I wanna be groped
I wanna get naked and scream like a girl
That's the most natural thing in the world
(That's the most natural thing in the world)

Rum, thunderbird wine and coke
I wanna be touched, I wanna be groped
I'm wrecked in the bedroom and ready to hurl
That's the most natural thing in the world

Rum, thunderbird wine and coke
Snakebite and skunk, a snort and a smoke
I'm wrecked in the bedroom and ready to hurl
That's the most natural thing in the world...
(That's the most natural thing in the world)
That's the most natural thing in the world

Tom Robinson/Adam Phillips/Jo Burt/Tom Fenner (Duncannon Music)

12) 2-4-6-8 Motorway

Drive my truck midway to the motorway station
Fairlane cruiser coming up on the left hand side
Headlight shining, driving rain on the window frame
Little young Lady Stardust hitching a ride...

2-4-6-8 never too late
Me and my radio truckin' on through the night
3-5-7-9 on a double white line
Motorway sun coming up with the morning light

Whizzkid sitting pretty on your two-wheel stallion
This old ten-ton lorry got a bead on you
Ain't no use setting up with a bad companion
Ain't nobody get the better of you-know-who

2-4-6-8 ain't never too late etc.

Well there ain't no route you could choose
to lose the two of us
Ain't nobody know
when you're acting right or wrong
No-one knows if a roadway's leading nowhere
Gonna keep on driving home
on the road I'm on...

2-4-6-8 ain't never too late etc.

(spoken: "just fades out at the end...
gets quieter and quieter")
Oh the motorway sun...
get it up... get on up.

When it's 4 in the morning
and you're driving home
Down that E40 motorway
And it's late at night...
got the radio on
Listening to... Nachtradio
And the rain keep pouring down
Wipers going 'left-right',
'left-right', 'left-right'

Over on the East Side,
see a light in the sky
Over on the East Side...
here comes the sun
Here comes the sun - it's that
Motorway sun coming up
with the morning light, and it's a

2-4-6-8 ain't never too late
Me and my radio truckin' on thru the night
3-5-7-9 on a double white line
Motorway sun coming up with the morning light

Tom Robinson (Konkwest Music)

13) The Frozen Man
(sung by Adam Phillips)

Last thing I remember is the freezing cold
Water reaching up just to swallow me whole
Ice in the riiging and the howling wind
Shock to my body as I tumbled in

My brothers and the others were lost at sea
But I alone am returned to tell thee
Hidden in ice for a century
To walk the world again

Lord have mercy on the Frozen Man

Next words that were spoken to me
Nurse asked me what my name might be
She was all in white at the foot of my bed
I said, "Angel Of Mercy am I alive or am I dead ?"
My name is William James McVie
I was born in 1843
Raised in Liverpool by the sea"
But that ain't who I am

Lord have mercy on the Frozen Man

It took a lot of money to start
To peg my leg and buy my eye
Newspapers call me state of the art
The children when they see me cry

Thought it be nice just to visit my grave
To see what kind of tombstone I might have
I seen my wife and my daughter and it seemed so strange
Both of them dead and gone from extreme old age

See now when I die make sure I'm gone
Don't leave them nothing to work on
Cos you can wave your arm and you can
And you can wave goodbye to the Frozen Man

I know what it mean to freeze to death
To lose a little life with every breath
To say goodbye to life on earth
To come around again

Lord have mercy on the Frozen Man
Lord have mercy on the Frozen Man

Words and Music by James Taylor
Published by Country Roads Music

14) Hard

Men are husbands, men are dads
Casanovas, Jack the Lads
Men are brothers, men are sons
Pray their fathers' will be done
Men of science, men of God
Men of action, in a squad
Men are Real and men are New
And men are people just like you
So hard...

Men are restless, men are shy
Commit themselves, they'd rather die
Hide their feelings with a front
Say "I love you" when they're drunk
Throw their clothes off in a heap
Crawl in bed and fall asleep
Kiss you quick and say goodbye
And I should know, cos I'm a guy
Men are sexy, men are sweet
Men are faithful, never cheat
Men are tough and never cry
Men are truthful, never lie - and it's
So hard... to be a man

At the factory, at the pool
At the match or sat in school
Riding bikes or making deals
Sat behind a driving wheel
In the playground, in the pub
In the bedroom - there's the rub
Boys impersonating men
And I should know - I'm one of them
Men are sexy, men are sweet
Men are faithful, never cheat
Men are tough and never cry
Men are truthful, never lie
Clever men with clever brains
Spend the weekend watching trains
Handsome men with happy lives
Damaged men with damaged wives...
So hard... they're
So hard... and it's
So hard... to be that kind of man

Tom Robinson (Notting Hill Music)

Leave the bureau in the snow
Catch a tram to Onkel Po
Early evening ring around the moon
Slip in by the concierge
By the bikes and up the stairs
Snap the latch and creep into the room

You throw off your coat, pick up the post
And put a coffee on
Lie down on the bed, lay back your head
And smoke a cigarette

And listen to the radio
Listen to the radio

In the city late tonight
Double feature, black and white
"Bitter Tears" and "Taxi to the Klo"
Find a bar, avoid a fight
Show your papers, be polite
Walking home with nowhere else to go

You throw off your coat, pick up my note
Put another coffee on
Lie down on the bed, lay back your head
And smoke a cigarette

And listen to the radio
Listen to the radio

Atmospherics after dark
Noise and voices from the past
Across the dial from Moscow to Cologne:
Interference in the night
Thousand miles on either side
Stations fading into the unknown:

So throw off your coat, we'll butter some toast
And put a coffee on:
We'll lie down on the bed, lay back our heads
Smoke another cigarette

And listen to the radio
Listen to the radio

All night long...

Lyric by TR 1982
Music by Peter Gabriel and TR

The lights of home are burning low
And time ran out a little time ago
The ranks are closing and the lines are drawn
They call for surrender but it's almost dawn
I'm not ready, I'm not ready

And I'm down... down... down
Down on my knees - I'm not ready
Yes I'm down... down... down
Down on my knees

It's hard to be paid and it paid to be hard
I've fallen for a sucker and it's only the start
Moonlight meeting up under the trees
My heart starts hurting and I'm down on my knees
I'm not ready, I'm not ready...

And I'm down... down... down
Down on my knees - I'm not ready
Yes I'm down... down... down
Down on my knees

I never expected a pie in the sky
But anything's better than a kick in the eye
I'm not ready, I'm not ready...

And I'm down... down... down
Down on my knees - I'm not ready
Yes I'm down... down... down

My name's Duncannon and I used to deal
As a radar rigger on the Forties field
But in my face you'll see the scar
Of the petrodollar and the German car

Worked on a pipeline pumping crude
And lived with the shiftwork, gales and food
But the greatest danger, near or far
Were the boardroom barons with a German car

They'd save on safety maintenance
They were mean and underhand
They'd maximise their bottom lines
In shelter on the land...

It was 0300 on the brig
When the nightmare happened on our sister rig
I can see the fireball in my dreams
As the dot disappeared from the radar screens

They sent for their insurance men
They sent for Red Adair
They sent the rescue services
To the rig that wasn't there...

You whizzkid cowboys of the range
As you make your killing on the Stock Exchange
Remember the men you pressed too far