It would be fair to say that the Sea Cadets are more fond of cake than a salad.
This new track - 'Billy in Bunbury' uses a 1925 Advertising poem by Ruth Plumly Thompson for the Royal Baking Powder Company over the usual nautical post punk shenanigans. Narrated by Patti Cunningham, the song tells the story of Billy, who wont eat.
Our new album is called 'Live at the Apollo', we are releasing it on CD (remember those ?) shortly, but, if you're extra eager, a 4 minute sampler of it can be seen here on Youtube...
We wont be placing it on Spotify (see earlier posts) but the album in its entirety can be streamed on Soundcloud here
This track features a poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley which is more political than 90% of the tunes on Spotify. It calls on working people not to accept exploitation and to rise up. Written shortly after the Peterloo massacre (1819), it was thought too inflammatory to publish during Shelly's lifetime. Idles take note.
Men of England, wherefore plough
For the lords who lay ye low?
Wherefore weave with toil and care
The rich robes your tyrants wear?
Wherefore feed and clothe and save
From the cradle to the grave
Those ungrateful drones who would
Drain your sweat—nay, drink your blood?
Wherefore, Bees of England, forge
Many a weapon, chain, and scourge,
That these stingless drones may spoil
The forced produce of your toil?
Have ye leisure, comfort, calm,
Shelter, food, love’s gentle balm?
Or what is it ye buy so dear
With your pain and with your fear?
The seed ye sow, another reaps;
The wealth ye find, another keeps;
The robes ye weave, another wears;
The arms ye forge, another bears.
Sow seed—but let no tyrant reap:
Find wealth—let no imposter heap:
Weave robes—let not the idle wear:
Forge arms—in your defence to bear.
Shrink to your cellars, holes, and cells—
In hall ye deck another dwells.
Why shake the chains ye wrought? Ye see
The steel ye tempered glance on ye.
With plough and spade and hoe and loom
Trace your grave and build your tomb
And weave your winding-sheet—till fair
England be your Sepulchre.
Nice article and Rob looks good 🙂
“Mr Rix spoke fondly…”
The new Sea Cadets album 'Here Come The Sea Cadets' is released on January 4th 2019 on Rural Tension Records (ARTLP2)
Preorders - via this link - will not only receive the CD before Christmas but receive one of our new Bands FC inspired badges and pay no postage at all.
Think of all the people who would want one of these in their stockings 😉
Download copies of the album will contain 8 tracks,
1 Here Come The Sea Cadets
2 The Houses Of Diss
3 Hamsters Are Playing
4 Lost In Time
5 Gott Im Himmel (Not on the CD)
6 For Essex Calves A Pasture
7 Born By The Ouse
8 Furious
The album is downloadable from the usual places and streamable via Spotify, links updated as we have them
To purchase the album on Apple Music, click HERE
The CD version contains 4 bonus tracks
Back Cover and badge
Tracklist / CD Image - Scroll down the last few posts to hear/see some of the tracks.
Get down motherfunkers, the Sea Cadets have put on their Gold Lame suits and are strutting towards you
Our 2018 World Cup song is finally ready.
Oh.
Here’s our 2020 Euros song nice and early……
Here Come The Sea Cadets is the title of our new tune, now available for streaming on Soundcloud here...
The usual CGI and explosion packed video can be found here
'For Essex Calves a Pasture' is our new track, in it we protest about the Land Enclosures Act and call on the men of the Fens to rise up and prevent the toffs of Essex from taking our land. 17th Century Politics. Wooo !
Powte's Complaint
Come, Brethren of the water, and let us all assemble,
To treat upon this matter, which makes us quake and tremble;
For we shall rue it, if''t be true, that Fens be undertaken
And where we feed in Fen and Reed, they'll feed both Beef and Bacon.
They'll sow both beans and oats, where never man yet thought it,
Where men did row in boats, ere undertakers brought it:
But, Ceres, thou, behold us now, let wild oats be their venture,
Oh let the frogs and miry bogs destroy where they do enter.
Behold the great design, which they do now determine,
Will make our bodies pine, a prey to crows and vermine:
For they do mean all Fens to drain, and waters overmaster,
All will be dry, and we must die, 'cause Essex calves want pasture.
Away with boats and rudder, farewell both boots and skatches,
No need of one nor th'other, men now make better matches;
Stilt-makers all and tanners, shall complain of this disaster,
For they will make each muddy lake for Essex calves a pasture.
The feather'd fowls have wings, to fly to to other nations;
But we have no such things, to help our transportations;
We must give place (oh grievous case) to horned beasts and cattle,
Except that we can all agree to drive them out by battle.
