Immediate download of 14-track album in your choice of 320k mp3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire. This fancy digital purchase will come with the added bonus of a full set of lyrics, so no matter how slurry Shipley gets, you'll know exactly what the fool is saying.
The best part? Almost all of that money goes right back to the Consumer Goods, who I know for a fact are trying to raise money to pay for their fourth record, "But We Don't Shoot Pistols," to be produced by Dale Morningstar at the Gas Station Recording Camp on the Toronto Islands. Help them do that and feel good.
$10CAD or more
Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album
It's a CD!
Includes unlimited streaming of Happy Bidet
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
According to the Consumer Goods, insistence on intellectual rigor is what made 2007’s "Happy Bidet" arguably the best in the band’s catalogue.
Written during a tumultuous 8-month span that saw Shipley move from the comfortable Winnipeg scene to the bustle and alienation of Toronto, the record featured a band at the height of its craft; its thirteen tracks were recorded in just one day, but come off as a perfectly polished meditation on an American Empire at war with everyone and everything. The record seemed to tap directly into the absurdity of Bush-era idiocy and violence, and the folly that a generation was striding arrogantly into.
Unlike it’s predecessor, 'Bidet' turned the anger into a sublime joke; Shipley lamented the attack on women’s reproductive rights by imagining George W. Bush looking for a back-alley coat-hanger abortion (“Rovie Wade”) and advised the sun to stop shining in Arab skies, lest it be labeled a terrorist and bombed by American F-16s (“Sun Oh Sun.”) In a world so screwed up, ridiculing the bad guys seemed like the only way to cope, and the glowing response to the record seemed to confirm that.
The mainstream radio popularity of “…Sam Katz,” a clever polemic aimed at the mayor of Winnipeg's continued use of carcinogenic pesticides in residential nieghbourhoods, indicated that there was a real appetite for political critique that came with a wink and a nod. Katz's office refused to comment on the song and the Winnipeg Sun - a nominally Katz-supporting paper - called 'Happy Bidet' "one of 2007's best local releases."
released May 1, 2007
songs by tyler shipley.
the consumer goods:
recorded and mixed by ryan mcveigh at face value.
mastered by ryan mcveigh at mid-ocean school of media arts.
artwork by michael kirkpatrick.
it's a kinda home in a city known for the tallest compass alive. and i use it when i can't find a friend to direct me at the end of the night. and the stars aren't bright, but the satelites are watching me sleep. ticking their way to world war three.
Track Name: Rovie Wade
i'm sorry sister, but the times are changin' and rovie wade has been rearranging the comfy chairs on the supreme court benches and filling them with anti-woman wenches now. and i don't care what they say in the court, your body's nobody's body but yours and i don't care what the say in the press, killing ain't so bad cos in iraq, it's the best! let's put some ovaries on george bush junior, cos i'm sure he'd love to walk a mile in your shoes. and when he's carrying a little cheney, he will be singing the back-alley coat-hanger blues. and i don't care what they say in the court, your body's nobody's body but yours and i don't care what they say in the church, if killing is so wrong why did god give us george the first?
Track Name: Happy Bidet (Let The Balled Eagle Soar)
a bathroom stall is not so bad, if you had to choose places to be had. after fifty-seven christmas holidays, you've never seen such happy (bi)days. oh america, exalt! the eagle got balled. oh i know it hurts a little bit (maybe more the pride? from the smell of it?) a patriot shouldn't be so soft. oh you got fucked in the ashcroft. oh america, exalt! the eagle got balled.
Track Name: Gunboat Diplomacy
you're like the guys with the gunboat eyes singing 'we won't hurt you if you realise that we're only here to help.' take your gunboats, your gunboats home. parked in the harbour you're watching over, i feel you staring, i swear i'm no revolutionary pinko commie trash. take your gunboats, your gunboats home. you came invited but not this way. would you turn around and sail as far away as your steam-powered engines and modern inventions will go? take your gunboats, your gunboats home.
Track Name: The Kiss Army
an army of kisses fell down on you and i was the general leading the assault. but failing to capture your critical organs cos you were enraptured with someone less important. the warmest november forever and ever is the perfect setting for second efforts. cos if at first you fail miserably, second failures don't feel so shitty.
Track Name: Eat a Dick, Cheney
did your mom not love you enough, donald rumsfeld? did your daddy call you a 'fuck,' richard cheney? i wish i could give you the love they never did. maybe you'd stop bombing the fuck out of everything. did you cry yourself to sleep, colin powell? cos even when you played along you still got excluded. i wish i could tell you that you're an important black politician. but you are whiter than the spark of my car ignition. was it hard to be the failure, george the second? all those expectations you never lived up to. i wish i could hold your hand and tell you everything's gonna be alright. you need protection from the world even though that's not what it looks like. but i've got nothing left to give to you and yours. i put it all into these words and these chords. we'll be laughing at your expense when you're dead and gone. cos revolution's gonna hurt, but not for very long.
Track Name: Looking For Love (While) In(vading) The Muslim World
drink up, drink up. it's the only thing i can think of. to not go out and make love to someone i don't know. after all its just a heart that i've been taking apart. when rhyming is so hard, there's no rhyming in a life of art. don't look back, look back. no, no, no, it's not that bad. still. don't look back. after all, it's just the past, haunting me like a gas mask i wore with you in iraq. i smiled at you and you smiled back. hammurabi was killed in missile blast. and a truck bomb was a wedding crashed. and i kissed you and you squeezed my ass. after all these are just words that nobody has ever heard. so nobody is getting hurt.
Track Name: Sun, Oh Sun!
sun, oh sun! i love it when you shine. you warm my heart with your ultraviolet light. you warm my friends and the family i come from. you warm my heart for my ultraviolet love. but sun, oh sun, tell me why you've been spotted in the arab sky? the NSA's been tracking all your rays and terrorists don't even like sunny days. and they ain't gonna get any anyways. sun, oh sun! i know you're meaning well. but sun, times are complicated and it would do you well to drop all of this socialist bullshit and look out for yourself, cos even if you're with us you might still be against us and we won't hesitate to send you to a sunny day in hell but sun, oh sun, tell me why you've been spotted in the arab sky? you know that i can't help you if you won't try, just tell them you got lost, even if that's a lie. and i sure hope you can explain what you were doing in cuba, china, korea, panama, vietnam, haiti, venezuela, zimbabwe...
Track Name: Buyer Beware Blues
young man, leave your prairie heart back home cos you know it don't go for much around here. you won't get much more than a ten from the pawn shop man. this ain't no place for a boy with a pretty face, you know you're only gonna be a bit of fun. so don't talk in rhymes and don't trust anyone. just keep yourself to yourself if your selfish heart wants to survive. you're bound to get stung if you stick around the hive. so let's take a train back to where you don't have to buyer beware. cos i'm tired of watching you watching the sunrise over these big city lights.
Track Name: Mafeking Shithouse
i'll take a bouchee or two. that'll leave six or seven for you. old rhodes comin down the hill. to civilize the uncivilizable. i remember a matador. i was looking for the door to the shithouse burning down. in this shithouse shithole town. there's no gold up in these hills. but we'll mine the fuck out of them still. this old town's growin young. with every new single teenage mom. i remember a matador. i was looking for the door to the shithouse burning down. in this shithouse shithole town. your eyes are growing white. that's all that i can see. remember, praise the lord while you're butchering me.
Track Name: Plastic Glasses and Click Tracks
you're not like the causes i come from, they were simple and strong. your plastic glasses cover the eyes that complicate these songs. so remove the fingers from those lips that tell some truth and some lies. and say something that i can't understand that i can overanalyze. if this big city is going to eat me, i hope you're gonna be its teeth. rip out my eyeballs so i can't see all the ways its carrying on without me.
Track Name: Lebanong Song
lebanon, lebanon. don't look away, cos it will be gone. killing in the name of god. his name is god! it sounds so good! it sounds so good, in so many languages! so use it when you need something like water in the desert or oil in the sand. MPI tells me there's no good excuses for speeding. i know it looks good on the poster but it's rather misleading, cos if god don't mind taking the hit, for the guns and the tanks and the bombs and the shit well i'm sure he won't mind taking the blame for my speeding ticket. lebanon, lebanon. don't look away cos it will be gone.
Track Name: Let's Have Another Round Of Applause For The American Empire!
Track Name: ...And The Final Words Are Yours, Sam Katz
i'm breathing your air, sam katz. and by the time we've forgotten your name, my second tongue will grow and so will my seventh toe. i know, it't not easy running a city, a business and a baseball team today. and so it's probably best to kill some people with your poisin spray, they're only gonna protest the city summit anyway. i'm laughing my ass off, sam. at those hippies in wolseley taking a stand. banjo-pickin' on the front porch, patchoulie-stinkin' up the town. sam, get the cannons, let's take 'em down! let's take 'em down! i know, it's not easy running a city, a business and a baseball team today. and so, it's probably best to kill some people with your poisin spray, they're only gonna protest the private garbage company anyways. i know, it's so hard to run a city and a baseball team today. and so, i think it's best to kill some people with your poisin spray. who needs the charging-bison-hating hippies anyway?