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
Our latest track has Rob channelling his inner Jah Wobble. ? Jah Robble.
Forty years ago, the Exploding Hamsters played a free gig at Pentney Abbey, The Sea Cadets re-recorded one of the tracks they played that night in celebration.
Our Soundcloud page has been updated with the most recent songs, why not treat yourself today.
Get down motherfunkers, the Sea Cadets have put on their Gold Lame suits and are strutting towards you
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.
Rural Tension Records