Ricky is a puddle-jumper, he can't keep anything in his pockets, he speaks like spilled wine. Ricky, old trainers and two-tone pants, runs after the bus, hand on his ass. You'd think it was a strain just to be alive for Ricky, pained breathing with that wincing look on his face, hair like it's embarrassed to be on his head, trying scoot out the back door. Ricky's late for work, but he hides in the dishes and the bustle, gets away with it again. The only time Ricky is ever together, the only time Ricky is ever anything useful at all in this world, is when he's making a plate of penne arrabiata. It's a simple dish, some tube pasta and some sauce, but he makes it all himself and it's a simple thing done perfectly. Scabs on his calves, cell buzzing in his coat, whispered curses like spittle at the corners of his mouth, Ricky looks like hell, but makes one hell of a penne arrabiata. [Free until Jan 1]
When the guards are crazier than the prisoners. Stalking the halls, muttering, aimless and uncontrolled, with constantly sizzling fuse. [Buy from 4AD]
Posted by Dan at November 30, 2012 11:30 AM
and it will begin playing. All songs are also available to download: just right-click the link and choose 'Save as...'
