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No Dancing No Satisfaction

PulpThe Trees (2001)

” Where’er you walk,

Cool gales shall fan the glade

Trees where you sit

Shall crowd into a shade

Trees where you sit

Shall crowd into a shade.

– From George Frideric Handels’ Semele (1743)

Ah, yes nothing like a pretentious quote from an 18th Century Operatic number to start with eh? But seriously folks, I’m here all week and maybe even longer, possibly hundreds of years if somehow my DNA is that of a tree. Placid, inscrutable, strong, ever-changing yet never-changing. It’s not for me to suggest I possess any of these qualities but seeing as I’m already referring to myself in the first person, any attempts at humility would now only seem like the weak protestations of a self-denying, dyed in the wool narcissist.

Which brings us neatly to the blithe though charming air of narcissism running through this exquisitely despondent…

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