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Cathouse Lil © 2007 Music : B.Ferrier. Words B.Ferrier& F. Howson
As we mention elsewhere on our site, there ain’t no place in the blues for superannuation policies, Volvos or gold futures, but there’s always plenty of space for revenge, teenage prostitutes and .38 slugs.
This song has probably had one of the longest gestation periods in history. It began as a riff I made up around a couple of lines of lyrics sent to me by my long term music theatre collaborator (and later film director) Frank Howson way back in the seventies. There was always the spark of a good idea there, but it never came to anything and, though I’d pluck that riff from time to time, as a piece it remained incomplete and mysterious.
It took twenty odd years for the story to finally tell itself to me in ‘07.

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Listen to the stage manager and get on stage when they tell you to. No one has time for the rock star bullshit. None of the techs backstage care if you're David Bowie or the milkman. When you act like a jerk, they are completely unimpressed with the infantile display that you might think comes with your dubious status. They were there hours before you building the stage, and they will be there hours after you leave tearing it down. They should get your salary, and you should get theirs. -- Lollapalooza Alumni Henry Rollins