'No Aphrodisiac' released 1997, from the album Eternal Nightcap.
#1 in Triple J's Hottest 100.
I made this up quickly after drinking Irish Whiskey the night after I returned home to Sydney
after visiting my girlfriend in Melbourne. I sent her the cassette (which she says she'll find
some day). Two old friends Pinky and Chit Chat had just played me a demo of a song they
wrote off their chops at the place I was renting in Thirroul and I thought their “classifieds
section” (ie the “forty shaved sexy...”) would take the tune into a different dimension. So
they let me borrow it.
After Stevie Plunder died in 1996 I was moving away from the roots sound of the first two
albums. Here you can hear that change in one song, as Andy plays his double bass in the
first half, and the electric in the second. The song took off on the radio and suddenly in
October 1997 we had a Gold album before we’d even got around to shooting any film clips.
It was voted ARIA Song of the Year, and just in time we could stop working cheap.
Rob Taylor and I mixed the album at Alberts in Neutral Bay. I remember the last hour of the
recording with all the budget gone, I was singing the outro over the top of the completed
mix, trying to find out just how deranged our protagonist should become. Deadlines can be
liberating.
Music - Tim Freedman
Lyrics - Tim Freedman, Pinky Beecroft, Chit Chat Von Loopin Stab
Produced and mixed by Rob Taylor and Tim Freedman at Alberts, Sydney
Vocals, piano - Tim Freedman
Guitar - Oscar Briz
Bass, double bass - Andy Lewis
Drums - Mike Richards
Strings by Fourplay
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LYRICS
A letter to you on a cassette
‘Cause we don't write anymore
Gotta make it up quickly -
There’s people asleep on the second floor
There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness
Truth beauty and a picture of you
You'll be walking your dog in a few hours
I'll be asleep in my brother’s house
You're a thousand miles away
With food between your teeth
Come up for summer I've got a place near the beach
There's room for your dog
There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness
Truth beauty and a picture of you
There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness
Youth truth beauty fame boredom and a bottle of pills
There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness
You shouldn't leave me alone
There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness
Bare feet like a tom-boy and a crooked smile
Truth youth beauty fame boredom red hair no hair innocence Saturday and a picture of you A letter to you on a cassette
No you shouldn't leave me alone
Forty shaved sexy wants to do it all day
With a gun-totin’ trigger-happy missy named Kinky Renée
Tired teacher twenty-eight seeks regular meetings for masculine muscular nappy-clad brutal breeding
While his wife rough-wrestles with a puppy all aquiver on a wine-soaked strobe-lit Asiatic hall of mirrors and a dash of loneliness
There’s no aphrodisiac quite like it
Truth youth beauty fame boredom red hair no hair innocence impunity and a picture of you I got a video set-up me love you short time she pay me suck his finger with some fine wine
