Nhoj Morley



Chapters 1 through 3 with some incidental music. Put on  a happy face.



This short side is also called The Red Shift Suite. Put on your man-pants.



Everything one would expect from a Side Three plus C-SPAN.



Police, pathos and puppies (all weaponized).



In the dead of night, a makeshift raft arrives at the American shore and a lone figure crawls out and quickly makes for the shadows. The tiny craft has come all the way from Afghanistan. Its single passenger is a Mujahideen soldier or freedom fighter. His name is Ahklem. Has he come to fight freedom?

No, he sneaks quietly through cities and neighborhoods and makes his way to the residence of Strumbozo, a rock musician known to be an atheist, iconoclast and sport non-enthusiast. No one answers the door, so Ahklem huddles behind some shrubbery and waits.

A few blocks away, Strumbozo is just leaving the dispensary with a large brown bag cradled in each arm. He rounds a corner and finds himself smack in the path of a strange military parade. It is a parade for those prepared to fight for their country. It includes almost everyone. Many of the marchers consider it a parade for those prepared to fight each other for their country.

Strumbozo weaves into the combatants moving against the tide until a torch ignites the grocery bags. A choking cloud of reefer smoke mixes with the tear gas and leaves everyone too red-eyed to carry on. He snuffs out as much of the stash as he can and slips away.

Arriving at his doorstep, he hears a "psssssst!" and spots Ahklem crouched in the shrubs. "You've got to help me. The fate of the world is at stake!" Strumbozo nods and pushes the door open. "Yes. I know. Come on in."

Ahklem darts inside first. "How do you know the world is at stake?" Strumbozo latches the door. "If it's worth talking about, the world is probably at stake. Do you want me to save it for you?" Ahklem looks annoyed. "No, I am here to save your world from destruction. You must do nothing but come with me to Washington DC."

Ahklem explains, "I need a guide and I need someone next to whom I look more respectable. As my sponsor, you will stand at my side before the committee and explain all the ways my faith bothers you just the same as theirs. With moral equality established, I will then announce the new Caliphate. I don't want anyone to be frightened except by you. Are you afraid to do this?"

Strumbozo slowly exhales the remaining street vapors. "I'm afraid of what would happen if you asked someone else. What is your plan?" Ahklem waves his hand in front of his wrinkling nose. "Whoa… that stuff is awful. First, we have some of mine."

 They sit by the fire as Ahklem raises his vapors and prepares to share his plan.


Two pairs of songs in this batch are musical palindromes. If down can be up, then forwards can be backwards. That means play either song backwards and hear the other song forwards. But that's not the point. It means that for each pair there will be a single organ track that plays forward in one song and backwards in the other. There will be two grungie chord guitar tracks in each song. One track is the song's guitar part recorded forwards. The other track is the other song's guitar part played backwards. This barn-stomping barnstormer is Red Shift backwards.

Narration by Ambassador Keyes.



Hey Sailor!

Put on a happy face

'cuz we're gonna win ... win us a war!


Our prayers have been heard

the balloons have gone up

Dash out from the trenches

it can't hurt that much

Real soon we'll have peace and then

we'll have Christmas at home


Like a beacon

these happy face'd notions

will guide the way


We'll help you put on

your happiest face

if it costs us both an arm and a leg

Receive a welcome rest 

on a hill that overlooks the Parade


Put your happy face

The walls will come down

the roof will cave and let havoc in

Our lives will be done

and we'll try to run down streets of fire


We've stepped in it now

On this road of no return

Stand down from pen and plough

In the war zone we say let it burn

All the air goes dark with din

Voices call for heads to roll

while angels dance on pins


Cash to ash and trust to dust

and balls to the wall


Did you see what it's all about?

say you looked

say you have no doubt

Strike the others from the list

Strike a match if they resist

Time to close the open door

if we want things like they were before


We've stepped in it now

We'll never scrape this off our shoes

Happy facedown in the mud

In the war zone where the titans cruise

We'll fight teeth for tooth when

skeptics threaten a helpless truth

Must keep those angels dancing


Cast the doubters from the list

Cast a stone if they resist

Say the words and we'll forgive

Think these thoughts and you can live


Happy happy happy face

My face is so happy

My happy happy happy face

will keep me safe inside



The Veep and his pal discuss right and wrong.



The lads make their way toward Washington passing through upscale and downscale communities where folks tell upscale and downscale conspiracy theories. They all foretell of the ups leaving the downs behind. The downs tell of feeling left behind already. The ups complain that the downs are no longer far enough behind. Everyone insists that the real truth is hidden somewhere under Washington. As they travel, Ahklem and Strumbozo gather all the theories and suspicions and promise to find the answers when they get to the capitol.


There is a place that's warm and cozy
if that is your desire
Those who've seen the dangerous visions
will find it very dire
We find it tough to live there
among the safe and sound
the web has unraveled
and the Heavens have crashed down
Leaving no safe place
This is the story where
we get spaced
I've got no way, no path, no guide, no chase
no up nor down and no safe place
Buzz the bank and say I won't save face
I've stepped out of line in the credit race
Gotta get my shit together in case the missiles fall
Maybe get my sins forgiven
Just in case of a curtain call
No safe place
This is the party where we get faced
I've got no creed, no oath, no cause, no case
no mind to change and no safe place
This is the party where we
put on a happy face
No, I know a nomad man
as distinct from a known madman
I have no wish to rile
My fellow rank and file
Don't call me a deserter
I just need space to think
But I'm not holding ground
that is standing on the brink
No safe place this land is lost in space
No safe place so put on a happy face


Now armed with more facts than can possibly be true, the lads find themselves facing the Fog of the Unknown. While others avoid the areas where the fog is too thick, they are determined to find the dense center where they believe the truth is hidden.

As they had hoped, once at the center of the Fog, they discover they are standing on the secret hatch that leads to the Bunker of Truth. There they find, stashed away for eternity, all the truths upon which all the deceptions rely. The bunker has many shelves full of building blueprints. The lads wonder what sort of truth the plans could contain that made them have to be hidden down in the bunker.



Down in the Bunker of Truth, secret plans are discovered that show that buildings that look sort of like spaceships are actually spaceships intended to launch into orbit and connect together into a city in space. Even the newly refurbished Capitol Dome stands ready for an impending lift-off. Long robotic cranes will pluck supplies off the surface and particle beams will keep the workforce policed and motivated. Strumbozo grabs a few blueprints and he and Ahklem head back into the Fog of the Unknown knowing their destination must be near the center of the densest vapors. They don't know that Washington is about to become a very unsafe place.


"People are not, under their own momentum, good people. Though they are quite capable of goodness with some firm shepherding from the community at large, or a single influential person. Once this magnetic alignment is established, the result is an orderly public pulled onto a Vector of Goodness. This common motion must be maintained without deviation. It is the current and the push that allows the Goodness in us all to have a good place to be good in."
This is the way we've gone forever
this is the span of our stride
until we reach the shiny city
this ugly road is our guide
move along
This is the path
this is the way
this is the speed
of our travel today
never deviate a single step
or skip a frame of mind
should anyone lose sight of us
they must be left behind
move along
We are in motion 
we did the deed
a dose of dread
and regret is what we need
to chafe the senses like an ugly melody
we sung into a bottle and cast into the sea
until we reach our point of view 
this the road
this is the way
move along now
"Our Good Place is only there when we move together and at the same pace on the Vector of Goodness. If you move a little bit faster, or a little slower, or turn to the left or right even a smidge, the Good Place will blur and vanish from view. As will you, blur and then vanish from the sight of others who stay focused on The Path and do things at The Pace. This is The Way. Move along now… nothing to see here."
Keep still ya little varmints
we can make this merciful and quick
the speedy bullet is kinder to you
than the old club and stick.
your simian kinetics means
the target is in motion
like the rest of us
This is the road to the shining city
this is the speed of enlightenment
our destination is our nation's destiny
that waits for us forever
this is the path
this is the way
this is the speed
we travel at today
it chafes the senses like an ugly melody
we sung into a bottle and cast into the sea
until the end comes into view
this the path
and the pace
move along now
We are stillness in motion 
you best keep still ya little varmints
like the rest of us
We take the path
we know what to do 
We call it simian kinetics
but it's a vanishing point of view
Apes in motion
locked in limbo
kept safe and sound
Keep the speedy bullet
locked and loaded
the target is in motion


Somewhere at sea, a lone submarine receives a missile launch order that turns out to be Miss Lyle's lunch order. After a lonely truck stop is destroyed, the nation demands stronger control of its arsenal. Since no one can be trusted, the task is to be assigned to a powerful computer. The USA will demand that Russia uses it.


The PreAmble is the old band's opening number. An old bomb casing wore a Reagan mask but plans for the pantomime submarine never materialized.



Russia agrees to use the machine if they can build a counterpart for the US. Both computers are programmed with more info than any person could know. Both sides agree to switch them on at the same time. When the moment comes, both machines instantly activate their arsenals. Their displays say "SHOOT NOW! QUICK! FIRE! HURRY UP!" The pre-programmed two-minutes of doubt-time to overrule or commit starts to tick by. Everyone wonders if their computer knows something they don't. The displays say "ADVANTAGE EVAPORATING! IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED! PRESS COMMIT NOW!"  

Both sides determine that their best hope of survival is total nuclear annihilation. Each side declares exemption from accusations of madness by claiming to make only one half of the decision. Millions brace themselves for the end of everything. "The choice was not half-mad, it was half-sane."



Once upon a time…
Jimmy told us not to feed the bear
The grain stays on the farm
he said our oily debt
was a greater threat
a sweater will do less harm
Then we polled the great electorate
and Jim was cast away
next time we chose to zap them with a Reagan
Ronnie built us peace
peace through strength
everybody feared that 
we might take a red shift
Hey sailor, did you see the news?
of strutting Ruskie troop reviews
tanks rolled in Gdansk again and
the mountains of Afghanistan
Panic loomed in dangerous days
Ronnie advanced in crazy ways
Sending troops and raising flags
and putting boys in body bags
Will you please keep still
while the Titans cruise their nuclear destiny
With your hands tied behind your back
Tinpots for hire are paid by us the rhetoric buyers
did we sign our lives away?
Gorby let the wall fall down
The bombs fell too without a sound
The tanks were rolled across the bridge
and up the road to Ruby Ridge
Then they happened onto Putin Place
Now they're pu'tin' on a happy face
It's time to
put on our man pants
Are you waiting still?
Then stick around and brace yourself for war
It isn't MAD anymore
locked behind our bunker door
we got the nukes to settle the score
When the time comes to hit the floor
Nyet! Who left open
the Windows of vulnerability?
A little man whispered
"Come and dance…
come and dance and clap
those little hands with us
We can set the world aflame
then everyone will scream your name"
Those lads
they danced the Kremlin's way
ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay
they took our pants away
this is not the KGB
this pumpkin has a USB
relax and enjoy the show
When Jesus comes he'll wear the pants
until then we drink and dance this night away
Serfs' up
and are they angry
but we are hot stuff
let's set the world on fire
the forgotten folk are on the march
to a promised land for oligarchs
who scream their name
until one mushroom-cloudy day
when the missiles rain…


World War III gets off to a slow start. A thousand tiny individual acts of conscience-inspired sabotage have led to a complete failure of both nuclear arsenals. Bombs did not explode. Parts were substituted. Invoices were faked. Complex atomic formulas were bullshit. Yellow cake took the place of yellow cake. The public's relief quickly turns to anger and those responsible for preventing society's destruction face swift justice. With WW3 finally behind us, we can move on to a new kind of warfare.

Meanwhile, the lads have reached the steps of the Capitol.

End of Book 1


This was the band's closing number.



One of the tougher mission objectives of this PRCA was to summarize five days of hearings down to one and a quarter minutes and set it to music.



Come and stand with us
and hold this fort til dawn
We'll table our disgust
and give our brain and brawn
In here the faithful wait
for God's point man to arrive 
while others postulate 
that all can stay alive
Come and stand with us
and hold this fort til dawn
With either side in charge
the other is under siege
Either way we get a world
that no one can believe
Partisans hope to win for keeps
with vitriol and taunts
Until then we shall defend
this fortress no one wants
When can we get on with it?
When the castles fall
When will there be room for all?
When the castles fall
When will it be enough?
When the castles fall
Who can tell it like it is
when the castles fall?
There will be no reckoning
No one up against the wall
All will be forgiven
When the castles fall
Two scoops for everyone
When the castles fall


Chapter Six is the palindromic sibling of Chapter Eight.




Which way is up?

Which way is down?

From Pittsburgh to Duluth

we sought an azimuth


We were safe inside our dens

but not from the wily Fox

He could sneak into the pens

by talking from a box

He polished shiny turds

with smooth and gritty words

the Fox said...

"Gravity don't make no sound

Gravity won't let you down"


Shadows march along the wall

with shouldered arms enough for all

Jutting chins and rolling eyes

that spin from Al Phaboy and Missile Thighs

What's going down? Who's going down?


Down is up and up is down

Gravity will crush this town


Which way is up is up to

the one who wears the crown

should it be a heavy anchor

or a levitating clown

A repulsive magnetism wins

as the moral compass spins, the Fox said...

"Gravity don't make no sound

Gravity won't let you down"



This sixth incarnation is supposed to be a sort of bluesy plum loco.


Words for sale today here's how to order
Got words and facts and themes
and pictures of your dreams
Get some try some you can trust them
and believe
Rest upon our shoulders My Great Leader
While we carry on the burden on our backs
We will feed you follow and fear you
It's a bargain that we can't afford to miss
So we took some well-read dark upstarts
and errant sons and nailed them to
the fact transmitting tower
It said by word and deed concede
here's how to order now
Can't think about anything right now
Can't think about anything else
Don't want to go down in pieces
Just want to go down in peace
We're gonna get lost in space
We're gonna get torn asunder
I'll not buy your pitch today so sue me
Can't lose my freedom to the barrel of a song
We'll survive your new world order
and we'll claim a space where everything
is up for debate


Nhoj Morley
Lyrics by Frank Trust


FUN with the vocalizer.
Back in the early '80's, my pal Frank (alias Sir Bubbles Varoom) had a fascination with abandon car plants in Detroit and books and stories about the Depression. He took polaroid photos of rusty buildings around Zug Island and then headed to the local bar to get more smashed. All that stopped when he fell through a rotted floor and filled his legs with pins and pain. Except for the getting smashed part. He favored little red brick bars near the Rouge River plants around shift change time. He liked to watch the workers. He learned to emulate their walk and dressed like them. It was one phase of a serious long-term Hemmingway-complex.
Along the way, he wrote song lyrics. They were mostly bits and pieces on cocktail napkins or little promotional flyers from a bank lobby. I would collect them when possible from the floor of his car. That way I could do what he never did… finish something. I stitched something together that finally met with his approval. He insisted it be clumsy and ungrammatical because that is how they talk down at the little red brick bar. I can tidy it up now because he can't stop me.
He also had a fascination with those two tiny ladies that lived in a box in the old monster movies.
Narration by Fiz Weld



How can we be so cruel?

How can we be so kind?

Why can't we do what we're told?

why is our share served out in the cold?


In this land so pressurized

by tickling fingers on invisible hands

The New Deals of the demigods

always keep the soupline manned

We are handed out a dole

in a state-issued bowl

Get in line and pay the toll

to receive your own soul

The lesson that we preach

is life is not a peach


How can we be so cruel?

How can we be so kind?

Who bakes this corporate pie?


I never bargained for you

You never bargained for me

Let's write it off as manifest destiny


Work the line! Stamp it! Shape it!

Cold polled steel! For product and progress!

Mother's breast-assembly line-animal machine

Now don't confuse it!

Tow the line read the sign

This is fine the fault's not mine


Mechno-facture each artifact as a prayer

and a hymn to steel sky


Ambition is a sinful lust

stay in line in God we trust

Here's a slice of moldy bread

stay in line better time's ahead

If life is not a peach

if the pie is out of reach

if a lie is what we preach

with excuses that we teach

For that we live and breathe

For that we must concede

Our surrender leads to victory

on the soupline to paradise





Help! It's the Police!



A strange little number from 1983.


I come from out of the shadows
down underneath far from all this glory in the Heavens
I can't think and I can't breathe just standing here
humbled by your overwhelming presence
We'll hit the beaches… we'll come up fighting
We'll take the blame for it all
Until Old Glory stands on every flattened peasant
Praise Babylon and Hail be upon our Great Leader
A shake or salute, a wink or a nod,
it pays to be right with God
Praise Babylon with all of your last breath
We don't want anymore speeches
We've suffered a bad case of rhetoric constipation
We won't be making anymore disposable lives
or any binding arbitration
We like a steady job, a plot of bricks and sod
We like a room with a view
and a screen full of happy news
a team that will never lose might just do
Praise Babylon and Hail be upon our Great Leader
A shake or salute, a wink or a nod,
Pay to be right with God
Praise Babylon with all of your last breath
Hey, Mr. President! Do you see these little guys
underneath this Great Administration?
No, you'd rather smash your fists
into creeps and columnists
A hero of a new Holy War
Never speak the whole truth aloud
Until every knee is bowed or broken
Praise Babylon and Hail be upon our Great Leader
A shake or salute, a wink or a nod,
Pays pretty well to be right with God
Praise Babylon with all of your last breath


Sonar was a set staple for two bands over a span of three years. The Vapors is one of its many rehearsal-night satires.



My pal Frank gave out one worthy piece of advice about seeing things through and getting things done. He said ya have to get angry. He's right. Thanks, Frank. I'm angry that you're dead so I saw it through and got it done.



I will forget my thoughts

I won't make is from ought

I will make peace with me

That's where I want to be


It's time to clean the house

I want my mighty mouse

to have a tidy pad

just like the righteous have


I am a pond of stillness

I am no source of willfulness

I have no axe to grind

that makes me one of a kind


I am the eye in the storm

I'm looking straight at the norm

I'm neither hard nor soft

so don't you dare piss me off


My propeller beanie

lifts me above the scenery

I see where the war zone lies

With my x-ray vision

I can spot the division

it's right behind your eyes


It hurts to take it in

It gets under my skin

I need to make it stop

before I blow my top


Shivering orphaned puppies

puppies will make me sleep

Wake up with a kitten video

a daytrip to the clown rodeo

then a nap under the gumball tree

that will make me not angry


boisterous brains bring bluster back bravely

don't get me angry

dangerous dudes duck dusty dirt deftly

don't get me angry

aggregate aides act as angular agents

don't get me angry

alodorous misfits make magnificent morons

get me-


Shivering orphaned puppies

puppies will make us sleep

Wake up with a kitten video

a daytrip to the clown rodeo

then a nap under the gumball tree

that will make me not angry


We need to sleep we want to eat

we need to breathe and rest our feet

No time for tea sound the alarm

before our brains do further harm


How come our brains can't see one view?

Our blood and bone know what to do

Get angry



Thanks, Ron.