Let me tell you about my new favourite band, Collapsing Cities. They’re a kiwi band I would loosely describe as big-sound indie rock. Think The Killers meets Joy Division (at a bar in Timaru). I actually saw them do a kick-arse opening for Garageland last year at the King’s Arms.

From Gloss:

“Yeah, our drummer Tim is really keen on playing party drum beats. We wanna make music that is danceable and fun, but lyrically I write songs that are slightly depressing…”

There’s another short review on The Guardian.

I can’t find their (fantastically dry) lyrics on the internet (should I try Wolfram Alpha?). Bought from iTunes though, so let’s start transcribing:

Fear of Opening My Mouth (yes, they’ve got The Fear)

Told my boss I hate him
At the Christmas party
That was before
A work colleague slept with his wife

(Sing it)
If I’m still a telemarketer
Next
Year
I think I’ll end my life

Man, why is no one singing about telemarketers? I know so many people from high school onwards who took telemarketing jobs they hated every second of because the pay was $12/hour.

All Your Friends Are Rats (my favourite)

I think all your friends are rats
They smile through their teeth
They belong in the sewers
Because they talk down to others
And I can’t even
Look them in the eye
Let alone make some forced conversation

Don’t
Go back on what you said
You said you wanted me in bed
But I wasn’t that good
Honey we can get through this

But getting back to what I said
If I could
There’s something
You should know…

…and the big finish:

All! Your friends
All! Your friends
And their friends! And their friends! And their friends! And their friends!
And their friends! And their friends! And their friends! And their friends!
Rats! Rats! Rats! Rats! Rats! Rats! Rats! Rats! Rats!

This song actually has a great dance groove.

Which brings us to the best part of publishing a post like this: I can now sit back and wait for the insults to roll in. Your favourite band sucks!