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Description
This song is a response to a visual experience - seeing a photomontage called "The Masque of the Count and Mrs. Trampolini" by Roy Buckley.
I'm not attempting to delineate the specific content of the collage. (There's actually a series of Count and Mrs. Trampolini events .. and I think they have all somewhat blended together in my mind.) Rather, the general goal is to capture in sound the look and feel of the visual experience.
That said, the story took off in unanticipated directions as it carved out its own reality.
I'm not attempting to delineate the specific content of the collage. (There's actually a series of Count and Mrs. Trampolini events .. and I think they have all somewhat blended together in my mind.) Rather, the general goal is to capture in sound the look and feel of the visual experience.
That said, the story took off in unanticipated directions as it carved out its own reality.
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Lyrics
MASQUE
the mystery of the affair hung heavy in the air
like acidic hashish perfume among the orchids everywhere
a full moon tropic night
like a scene lifted from Felini
the masque of the Count
and Mrs Trampolini
there was music there was dancing
there was dining there was boozing
there was preening there was prancing
there was fashion there was fusion
there was combustion there was collision
there was swindle and bamboozle
at the masque of the Count and Mrs Trampolini
undulating nudity exposing navel jewels
paparazzi scrambling after yesterday's public fool
walking with a hydra-headed cane
all the while keeping his cool
the Count with Mrs Trampolini
a princess looked on with wonder
as the Wall Street raiders divided the plunder
a dispute suddenly and passionately broke out
followed by several loud well-placed shots
a mayor attempting to avoid a blunder
marshaled his campaign aides asunder
a body was tossed in the river
so by the time the cops came
there was nothing to discover
there were
tattoos taboos gigolos in muumuus
vodkas voodoos hindoos with attitudes
there were nudists and Buddhists
monarchists and anarchists
at the masque of the Count
and Mrs Trampolini
sparks reflecting in her electric eyes
as purple as blackberries
festooned with flamingo feathers
as nooveau as Aubrey Beardsley
wearing a iridescent wrap more baroque than GianLorenzo Bernini
the splendorific Mrs Trampolini
An Afghani warlord with a sword crisscrossed by bandoleers
A Chinese acrobat doing figure-eights between chandeliers
a Playboy bunny bouncing in a diamond-encrusted bikini
it was the masque of the Count
and Mrs Trampolini
the mystery of the affair hung heavy in the air
like acidic hashish perfume among the orchids everywhere
a full moon tropic night
like a scene lifted from Felini
the masque of the Count
and Mrs Trampolini
there was music there was dancing
there was dining there was boozing
there was preening there was prancing
there was fashion there was fusion
there was combustion there was collision
there was swindle and bamboozle
at the masque of the Count and Mrs Trampolini
undulating nudity exposing navel jewels
paparazzi scrambling after yesterday's public fool
walking with a hydra-headed cane
all the while keeping his cool
the Count with Mrs Trampolini
a princess looked on with wonder
as the Wall Street raiders divided the plunder
a dispute suddenly and passionately broke out
followed by several loud well-placed shots
a mayor attempting to avoid a blunder
marshaled his campaign aides asunder
a body was tossed in the river
so by the time the cops came
there was nothing to discover
there were
tattoos taboos gigolos in muumuus
vodkas voodoos hindoos with attitudes
there were nudists and Buddhists
monarchists and anarchists
at the masque of the Count
and Mrs Trampolini
sparks reflecting in her electric eyes
as purple as blackberries
festooned with flamingo feathers
as nooveau as Aubrey Beardsley
wearing a iridescent wrap more baroque than GianLorenzo Bernini
the splendorific Mrs Trampolini
An Afghani warlord with a sword crisscrossed by bandoleers
A Chinese acrobat doing figure-eights between chandeliers
a Playboy bunny bouncing in a diamond-encrusted bikini
it was the masque of the Count
and Mrs Trampolini
What an impression you got from that painting! Wonderful, whacky, Warren wordplay. Plus, your signature sounds transporting the song. "The laughing, probing, cajoling lead guitar."
Is it collusion or collision?