Chris Bailey is the co-founder and singer of rock band The Saints. He was born in Nanyuki, Kenya in 1957 to Irish parents. Bailey grew up in Belfast, Northern Ireland until the age of seven, when his family emigrated to Australia. The Saints were formed in Australia in 1974. Their first hit was in the UK with the classic punk anthem "(I'm) Stranded". The band slowly evolved toward a more sophisticated sound on their next few albums.
The album was their first release after an eight-year recording hiatus. This time Chris Bailey chose to lose the big production of the 1980s records to make an album that was more akin to the early Saints punk sound. However, instead of teaming up with the original members Bailey again employed a new line-up for the band, making this The Saints Mark III.
Also, unlike the 1979-1988 Saints, Bailey here eschews his old mates for an new lineup, making this Saints Mach III. The results are mixed, especially at first, but at their best are crackling and exciting. And with repeated listens, Bailey's knack for a well-developed, melodic tune is revealed, as are a couple of thunderous, paranoid, wild, and totally cracked songs that sound like Bailey has turned psychopathic. Three acoustic-based tracks are also a good touch, revisiting the sumptuous territory of Savage Entertainment and 54 Days.
Besides, any record that makes Bailey howl as of old, unlike his '90s solo work, is bound to have one revelatory moment after another, reminding one of the explosive voice that once bellowed and yowled its way through such intense heart-pounders as "(I'm) Stranded," "This Perfect Day," "Know Your Product," "Casablanca," "Ghost Ships," and "Just Like Fire Would."
01. Howling - 4:19
02. Shadows - 4:10
03. Something Somewhere Sometime - 3:35
04. Something Wicked - 3:25
05. Only Stone - 3:22
06. Good Friday - 4:23
07. Blown Away - 5:14
08. Last and Laughing Mile - 4:11
09. You Know I Know - 3:30
10. Only Dreaming - 3:21
11. Second Coming - 3:50
12.All for Nothing - 3:33
Get the fuck out
The elements were howling
Moses on the mountain slept
he hadn't got the message yet
and I didn't want to be the one to wake him up
so fatten up the sacred cows
let's get the butchers to do their stuff
so sharpen up the forks and knives
get ready for the sacrifice.
I want the godless gift of paradise,
I want to feel you deep inside.
Wild and weirdly the black cat's moan
give me the voodoo that I want.
Me.......I want to go howling, howling at the moon
I want to go prowling where I don't belong.
Because I've got my eyes on you
and I know that you want me too
you make me feel alright
going to keep it up all night.
Cinderella in the whorehouse wept
next to the bed in which I slept
I slipped it out at quarter past twelve
she had to leave she couldn't help herself
just like me she had to go howling
The bomb has dropped, its metal touch
smashes through the senses
god appears then disappears
he's nervous and defensive
his loving cup has been fucked up
it's smashed and broken on the floor
a mongel horde crash through he door
to add to the confusion.
Today I'm lost I drift across
the fields of imagination
subject to a point of view
dark and pessimistic
from bad to worse it's like a curse
somethings gone wrong with the master plan
and looking back I can see the crack
through which I have fallen.
Oh well it doesn't matter
it's only changes
changes aren't always dangerous
they're just contagious.
I'm doing time in the shadows
and I'm feeling fine it doesn't matter
because intelligence is out of luck
I better find myself another look
you could have read me like an open book
but something tells me you won't even look.
The carnival was yesterday
I see the clowns rejected,
performing tricks out on the street
I paint my face and join the line
the riot squad is standing by
and no one is escaping
my hands are tied my mind is numb