And Then It Faster Rock'd

by The Taffety Punk Orchestra

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    This a real 7" single, set to sping at 45 rpms. A limted vinyl pressing of the first two songs we ever wrote. Pressed on a unique magenta-marble vinyl. Cover art by Ryan Nelson, from the original flyer for the show. Package includes lyrics, and information about the "And Then It Faster Rock'd Shows" as well as a short history of Taffety Punk.

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1.
02:13
2.
04:25

about

Precious little evidence remains of the early Taffety Punk shows. We performed And Then It Faster Rock'd twice in 2005 and have just a scant number of photos and one very damaged video recording—which is nearly unwatchable save for the stills we can pull from it. We recorded the music solely to help us remember the compositions. These two tracks were recorded late that summer by my brother Ryan. We found the tape years later and discovered the songs were intact, nestled between Soccer Team recordings. (We have Ryan's diligent ability to label his master reels to thank for the fact that these weren't destroyed.) The vocals to "Sonnet 71" weren't much more than a scratch track, so we fixed the vocals and added some overdubs in summer 2012. "Queen Mab" was intact and waiting for us to mix it.

credits

released November 2, 2012

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about

Taffety Punk Theatre Company Washington, D.C.

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Track Name: Sonnet 71
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you should hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell.
Nay, if you read this line, remember not
The hand that writ it for I love you so
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
Oh if, I say, you look upon this verse
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse
But let your love even with my life decay,
Lest the wise world should look into your moan
And mock you with me after I am gone.
Track Name: Queen Mab
O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate stone
On the forefinger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;

Her wagoner, a small grey-coated gnat,
Not half so big as a round little worm
Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid;

And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on curtsies straight;
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees;
O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.
Sometimes she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;

Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horses in the night
And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs.

This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage.
This is she!