ZANG TUUMB TUM DISCOGRAPHY “…or the imagination”

Welcome to the pleasure dome


(Welcome to the pleasure dome)

The animals are winding me up
The jungle call
The jungle call
(Hoo-ha hoo-ha, hoo-ha hoo-ha)
Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A pleasure dome erect
Moving on keep moving on

Moving at one million miles an hour
Using my power
I sell it by the hour
I have it so I market it
You really can afford it
You really can afford it

Shooting stars never stop
Even when they reach the top
Shooting stars never stop
Even when they reach the top
There goes a supernova
What a pushover
There goes a supernova
What a pushover

We’re a long way from home
Welcome to the pleasure dome
On our way home
Going home where lovers roam
Long way from home
Welcome to the pleasure dome

Moving on keep moving on

I will give you diamonds by the shower
Love your body even when it’s old
Do it just as only I can do it
And never ever doing what I’m told

Shooting stars never stop
Even when they reach the top
Shooting stars never stop
Even when they reach the top
(Hoo-ha hoo-ha, hoo-ha hoo-ha)
There goes a supernova
What a pushover
(Hoo-ha hoo-ha, hoo-ha hoo-ha)
There goes a supernova
What a pushover

We’re a long way from home
Welcome to the pleasure dome
On our way home
Going home where lovers roam
Long way from home
Welcome to the pleasure dome

Keep moving on
Gotta reach the top, don’t stop
Lay your love in the line, all mine
Keep moving on

(Shooting stars never stop)
(Shooting stars never stop)
(Moving on keep moving on)
Shooting stars never stop
Even when they reach the top
There goes a supernova
What a pushover

Shooting stars never stop
Even when they reach the top
There goes a supernova
What a pushover
There goes a supernova

(We’re a long way from home)
Welcome to the pleasure dome
(On our way home)
Going home where lovers roam
(Long way from home)
Welcome to the pleasure dome

Welcome
(Long way from home)
Welcome to the pleasure dome

Real altered mix intro

In song and in dance
I express myself as a member of a higher community
I have forgotten how to walk and speak
I am on the way toward flying into the air, dancing
My very gestures express enchantment
I feel myself a god
Supernatural sounds emanate from me
I walk about enchanted, in ecstasy, like the gods I saw walking in my dreams
I am no longer an artist
I have become a work of art
Welcome to the pleasure dome…

The alternative mix intro

Under the charm of the Dionysian not only is the union between man and man reaffirmed, but nature which has become alienated, hostile, or subjugated, celebrates once more her reconciliation with her lost son, man. Freely, earth proffers her gifts, and peacefully the beasts of prey of the rocks and desert approach. The chariot of Dionysus is covered with flowers and garlands; panthers and tigers walk under its yoke. Transform Beethoven’s “Hymn to Joy” into a painting; let your imagination conceive the multitudes bowing to the dust, awestruck—then you will approach the Dionysian. Now the slave is a free man; now all the rigid, hostile barriers that necessity, caprice or “impudent convention” have fixed between man and man are broken. Now, with the gospel of universal harmony, each one feels himself not only united, reconciled, and fused with his neighbor, but as one with him, as if the veil of Maya had been torn aside and were now merely fluttering in tatters before the mysterious primordial unity. In song and in dance man express himself as a member of a higher community; he has forgotten how to walk and speak and is on the way toward flying into the air, dancing. His very gestures express enchantment. Just as the animals now talk, and the earth yields milk and honey, supernatural sounds emanate from him, too: he feels himself a god, he himself now walks about enchanted, in ecstasy, like the gods he saw walking in his dreams. He is no longer an artist, he has become a work of art: in the paroxysms of intoxication the artistic power of all nature reveals itself to the highest gratification of the primordial unity. The noblest clay, the most costly marble, man, is here kneaded and cut, and to the sound of the chisel strokes of the Dionysian world-artist rings out the cry of the Eleusinian mysteries: “Do you prostrate yourselves millions? Do you sense your Maker, world?’

Welcome to the pleasure drome

Moving at one million miles and hour…

Notes: Narration on ‘The alternative’ by Geoffrey Palmer. ‘Real altered’ narrated by Gary Taylor.