ALBUM: Baby Bird - The Happiest Man Alive


BUY CD
BUY VINYL
SPOTIFY
YOUTUBE

Released 1 April 1996

Tracks:
1. Razorblade Shower (4.05)
2. Sundial In A Tunnel (2.51)
3. Little White Man (2.23)
4. Halfway Up The Hill (4.36)
5. Horsesugar (2.49)
6. Please Don’t Be Famous (3.30)
7. Louse (2.31)
8. Copper Feel (2.54)
9. Seagullably (3.26)
10. Dead In Love (3.49)
11. Candy Girl (3.46)
12. Gunfingers (2.44)
13. Married (0.10)
14. I Took a Drug (4.56)
15. In The Country (2.47)
16. Planecrash Xmas (3.14)
17. This Beautiful Disease (4.08)
18. You’ll Get A Slap (3.15)
19. In The Morning (2.11) 

Total Playing Length: 60.14 min. 

Catalogue numbers:
UK LP: BABY BIRD LP4
UK CD: BABY BIRD CD4
1000 copies on CD and 500 copies on vinyl
(Reached #1 in UK indie chart)


All songs recorded on a 4 track recorder no bigger than a vcr. No casio keyboards, no bellow-operated jazz synthesisers, no calor gas amplifiers have been used in there recordings. My attitude to resourcefulness-dictated-by-powerty never quite ran to stretching elastic bands over a washing-up bowl; though this technique, however tempting, is probably closer in spirit to babybird than to musicianship.
The happiest man alive is quality control on the grandest scale imaginable

Press Quotes:

"BABY BIRD IS HALF BEAST AND HALF SONGWRITER. HE IS WHOLLY A FORCE OF NATURE. BUT HE IS NOT THE BEATLES" (INDEPENDENT ON SUNDAY)

"RAW BUT COMPLETE, ABRASIVE YET MELODIC... A COMPELLING AND GENUINELY ORIGINAL NEW SOUND" (THE FACE)

"IF THIS IS THE COMPETITION, THE REST MAY AS WELL GIVE UP NOW" (SHEFFIELD TELEGRAPH)

"...an oblique sadist of spectacular talent. The Happiest Man Alive has an entire central nervous system of its own. It's a Frankenstein's monster of an album, gruesome and miraculous, stitched together from what would appear to be fragments of a dozen different psyches lodged inside one head." - Melody Maker


Sleevenotes 

 Brinkley, milkford, thymesley,
 Gueastpont, gurton, stockmill,
 Colesden, bullsdock, bouysea,
 Swold – some of r. mcdonald’s
 And b. king’s favourite places,
 Where romance is still
 Available. Just grab an an-to-b
 german car and fill it with
 cheap Russian gas. Rest your
 size 42 TAIWANESE air-cushions
 on the dashboard, drop a 3-hole
 Blackburn brick on the
 Accelerator, and hotwire your
 way beyond the city limits of
 invisible usa. On the way, take
 time out to Polaroid the out-
 skirts: a big yellow m, 3 red k’s
 and the neon black tick
 that swivels on the night-time
 sodium orange-lit baseball cap.
 Get the kids to stick the photos
 on the rear window, slip the
 golden Labradors a sleeping
 pill, and drive beyond the
 artificial fog. 

 Soon the sky regains her
 colour, and the road is bright.
 fuck nurofen, fuck alka selzer,
 fuck anadin, the green grassy
 aspirins, we took only minutes
 ago, are working
 With wd40 sticking pigskin
 glover to the wheel. 

 Forgettable cars drive back
 into the city, all the leather-
 palmed and naked-knuckled
 men wear peter cola virtual
 reality sunglasses. The city’s
 artificial fog is as thick as
 scented dung, and the jesus
 sunshades put bright-bright
 light in their eyes, as they
 highspeed the city-way home. 

 They pick up the glasses with
 five ecu toll. Little plastic
 ones for kids come free. They
 close their eyes and see a man
 nailed to a plane, with no
 engine. They smile. As the
 history of flight, from that
 point unfolds, on tv retinas. 

 Meanwhile. We have arrived –
 where swallows, humpbacks,
 hedges and red phoneboxes
 stand still under sea clouds.
 And hailstones and snowflakes
 fall like scones and double
 cream. And we covered in
 red, white and blueberries
 blocking every hole with
 sweetness. 

 As the car skids off the road,
 we go through reels of
 pleasurable suffocation – then die.
 The happiest family alive.