The Whitlams — You Sound Like Louis Burdett

Текст песни с аккордами

    	    	Вступление

his is a chord transcription. In most of the song the bass is the main 
accompaniment, with some guitar comping as embellishments. So the chords 
are implied by the bass, and I've deduced them from what I could pick up 
from the guitar and keys. Hope it all makes sense! For the curious, Louis 
Burdett is a Sydney muso from Newtown (home of all povvo musos and wanky 
left-wing arts students), and a former flatmate of Tim Freedman. 
 
Now, Tim's phrasing of the lyrics are not repetitive - that's their 
attraction! For that reason I'm not going to try to line up the chord 
changes with with lyrics...in the verse, the change |Ebm B Bb| is repeated 
- listen to the CD, you'll hear where and when the changes happen :-) 
 
 
Intro: 
 
Ebm   B   Bb (repeat) 
 
 
Verse (same chords): 
 
Had a little bit to drink 
There's a little thing I wanted to do out east 
Nothing too emotional, my good miss  
I couldn't be serious in a room full of jack-knife eyes 
Stop talking 'bout the years -  
you sound like Louis Burdett 
 
 
Chorus: 
 
F#          Ab            B 
And we roll on to my back shed 
          C#                F# 
Play some poker, scratch my head 
F#          Ab               B 
Look at the sky and spot the planes 
             C#            F# 
Where would I go on holidays? 
              Ab                E 
Roll with the punches down the aisles 
                B        Bb          Ebm   B Bb 
and down the streets the weeks roll by. 
 
 
Verse 2:  (Ebm   B Bb) 
 
I'm chewing ice and grinning 
I'm spewing up and spinning 
It's biliousness as usual in my corner of the kitchen. 
Hey you, lose that friend before we go anywhere 
What? Someone might see you alone? 
Stop bagging out the band, 
You sound like Louis Burdett 
 
 
Chorus: 
 
F#                 Ab 
All my friends are fuckups 
             B          C# 
but they're fun to have around 
        F#                Ab 
Banana chairs out on the concrete 
         B             C# 
Telling stories to the stars 
         F#               Ab 
How Geminis love wooden dragons, yeah 
 E                B   Bb             Ebm   B Bb 
How down the street the weeks roll by. 
 
 
Bridge: 
 
Ab             B                   F#        E       B 
The moment the night wears off the bombsite reappears 
B                                               A 
They're all asleep but the morning tastes like wine 
 
It tastes like wine in Tempe 
   D            E             F#       
I feel so good I, just might, wake him up 
Ebm         B  Bb 
Pat him on the bald head - tell me about a dream, Louis 
Something obscene, Louis 
Your life's an open magazine, Louis. 
 
Solo over same chords. 
 
Ebm         B  Bb 
I'm stoned in a bookshop, sober in a nightclub 
Sex is everywhere but no-where around me 
By the time she gets to Marrickville we'll be masturbating 
Never rains in Tempe but the planes remind me of family money 
And the lack down here 
Stop talking, frustrated, 'cause I sound like Louis Burdett 
 
 
Chorus: 
 
F#          Ab            B 
And we roll on to my back shed 
          C#                F# 
Play some poker, scratch my head 
F#          Ab               B 
Look at the sky and spot the planes 
             C#            F# 
Where would I go on holidays? 
              Ab                E 
Roll with the punches down the aisles 
                B        Bb          Ebm   B Bb 
and down the streets the weeks roll by. 
F#                 Ab 
All my friends are fuckups 
             B          C# 
but they're fun to have around 
        F#                Ab 
Banana chairs out on the concrete 
         B             C# 
Telling stories to the stars 
         F#               Ab 
How Geminis love wooden dragons, yeah 
 E                B   Bb             Ebm   B Bb 
How down the street the weeks roll by. 
 
 
Outro (same chords as chorus): 
 
Most of my friends are very fruity indeed, such fun to have around 
Terror, like charity, begins at home 
Chris don't like madness, but madness likes him 
He's got a finger in his chest saying how it should have been 
 
Chorus again 
 
                               F#  Ab E  B Bb Ebm 
...and how down the street the weeks, roll by. 
		
    

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