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Arbiters Of Blame

by TODGER

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    LIMITED EDITION "Arbiters Of Blame CD"

    Our bloody lovely high quality full art booklet with all the lyrics

    Roaring into the truck stop of your ear hole, Todger have been knocking out hard rocking, good times with a god damn silly band name since 2002. Drawing from 70s classic and southern rock, they blend their tight grooving rhythms and slick guitar work with tongue-in-cheek tall tales and belt-it-out BVs.

    In November 2016, Todger launch their latest full studio album; "Arbiters Of Blame". With it Todger have further honed their love of guitar-rich rock styles and searing solos of yesteryear. They slurp deeply from the likes of Thin Lizzy, GnR, and Rainbow, mixing it with the big BV sing-a-long inspiration of acts such as Doobie Brothers, Eagles, The Band and even a little of Rogers And Hammerstein. With it comes the Good Reverend's dark-humoured vignettes of murder, mayhem and innuendo reminiscent of Nick Cave, Alice Cooper, Clutch and the stranger brews of bands like They Might Be Giants and The Presidents Of USA.

    Todger. the first and last word in truck-based pan-genre-omni-rock. Hell Yeah!

    Includes unlimited streaming of Arbiters Of Blame via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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1.
They call me petty, and they call me bitter. They say I’m raised on a diet of piss and vinegar. They call me a monster, and brother, I think they could be right. I’m forced to drink the stuff, almost each and every night. Oh my lord it never does taste right. Oh the lord has had his way and now it’s judgement day. Piss and vinegar. Baby I’ve been filled to the brim. Piss and vinegar. Girl, it’s dribbling down your chin. Man, I’ve had it up to here. Just one question, as you draw near. Oh won’t you let me know, which hole to pour it in. Got rage and bile, for my friends and enemies. Sunshine and smiles, are distant memories. I got vital fluids and a swollen cornucopia, but the foulest brew, I consumed, was a long, cool draft of my sweet ambrosia. Forced to drink the stuff. I apologise if I got it over ya. Oh the lord has had his way and now it’s judgement day, Oh won’t you let me know, which hole to pour it in.
2.
You got a whole lot of secrets, we think it’s time for the truth. You ain’t ever gonna get to heaven girl, unless you take a turn in the confessional booth. You don’t have to bend your knees, if you want to be saved. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, I take them all to the grave. You made a few bad calls, you got a heap of regret, That the people you call friends won’t let you forget, Like the time you did that thing to that man, Although you apologised, did he ever understand? HELL YEAH! I’ve seen everything under the sun. I could tell a tale about what I saw. Ain’t seen no one do that before. I seen a whole lot of pillage and rape. I seen the high born ladies with their holes agape. I seen a man cut in two, and put back together. The fella who did that never felt so clever. And you can beg, and you can rant and you can plead. You can try to hide your shame. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. I never mention no names. I know that, you like to, flirt with disaster. Give me twelve Hail Marys and one Our Father. A man in a trench coat, holding a dossier came up to me in the park and said; "Brother I’m in pain. I need an expert, wise counsel, a man of high standing, a fellow who is known to be a qualified, fully accredited Arbiter Of Blame." "Well brother, you have come to the right place, I am well versed in the sacrament of penance. However this pans out, whoever wins or loses this game, I can assure you one thing; no one round here will ever mention your name."
3.
Eyes met, cross room, Sense of foreboding and impending doom. She said "Hey honey, you’re not my type, Don’t look like you done a days work in your life." I said, I am a man, of work and toil, I plough the depths of the deep red soil. I move mountains, make waters boil, I plough the depths of the deep red soil. She’s shocked, I’m not surprised. Don’t think I ever told such big lies. Ain’t raised a finger, I don’t know how. Ain’t gonna start to learn anytime now. And I was crushed beneath the wheels of progress. The rust sets in but the tool is well oiled. I am a man, I am a man of work and toil, I plough the depths of the deep red soil. She’s my saviour. Twenty-four years of back-breaking labour. She’s my saviour, Twenty-four years for real bad behaviour. She’s got powers, she’s got slaves. I’ll be working for the rest of my days. No more whiskey, no more wine. No other women on company time.
4.
I see there’s sweet Apollo, riding in his sun. He don’t do many miles to the gallon, but he can haul, A twenty-four gazillion tons. I see there’s birdlike Horus, riding in shotgun. It’s nearly clocking off time, hydrogen to heli-, Hydrogen to helium. Quetzalcoatl on the bottle, Azmodai’s got the smokes. Dionysus’ got a home brew that will turn your head round. Make you cough and choke, Mammon’s got a powder, he ain’t willing to share. Pluto and Anubis, say "you’ll get through this", disobey them, Disobey them if you dare. I’m hauling ass and moving souls, By the truck and by the barrel load. Let the pendulum swing. Rosin up the bow and play the old heart string. Strike the bell and let it ring-a-ding-ding. Rosin up the bow and play the old heart string. Grab the bull by the horn, and let the trumpets sing. You played me like a fool, like a cheap violin. Rosin up the bow and play the old heart string. Prometheus, my brother, do you have a light? Let’s never dwell on those things we did that other. God damn awful night. Do you remember the sirens? Lilith and Lamia? Selling us their sob stories, their purposes was calculated, cold and clear. Hermes provides distraction, and Odin held our tongue. Hades and Osiris, stood right beside, we awoke, And all our cash was gone. Oh Lord, let’s get ready to dance.
5.
I’ve been living in a hole in the ground, Till the end of days, that’s where I will be found, I won’t bear no cross, and I don’t wear no crown, And I won’t give a damn, no. Living in a hole in the ground, Til the end of days. When I’m found, The dead don’t bear, bear no cross, Don’t wear no crown, And I won’t give a damn no, In my hole in the ground. Fetch me my bucket and spade, Fetch me my fork and shovel, Looking at the night’s sky brother, I can tell there’s gonna be big, big trouble. Come on! You got to dig, We’ve got some depths to delve, Put your back into it brother, Cos these folks, these folks won’t bury themselves. Oh you say you wanna live on down below, Where the sun don’t shine. I’ve heard of apocalypse, From cryptozoologists, Who study the migration pattern of the mighty Sasquatch, And his fellow cryptids. Come on! You got to see, The things I’ve got in store, Put your back into it brother, We got to DIG, DIG, to the very earth’s core. I’ve been Living, Dying, Twisting, Turning, Living, Smoking, Drinking, Fighting, Loving, Hurting, Burning, Living, Breaking, Digging, Delving, Stealing, Clawing, Scratching, Hoping, Learning, Reeling, Churning, Worming, Squirming. Till the end of days, that’s where I will be found, I won’t bear no cross, and I don’t wear no crown, I won’t give a damn in my hole in the ground. Dig!
6.
Cold light of dawn, oh honey it does reveal, You look as bad, as bad as I feel, Cold light of dawn, it can’t conceal, You look as bad, as bad as I feel, It took a lot of hard liquor and good old nerves of steel. You look as bad, as bad as I feel. We raised a glass and you struck a deal. A moment’s hesitation, let my wits slip from my grasp. Jackpot for your woven web, your trap has sprung at last. You got a little plot, I’d like to stake a claim. It killed the last fella, but I’ll take it all the same. It takes a lot of exercise to train your eyes on me. You are skilled in all the brutal arts and all their subtleties. You got a little plot on the graveyard shift. I’m all tongue-tied, cross-legged, fingers and fists. Fair to say I’m petrified, the thought of flee has turned to stone. Got to admit you put the effort in, you work your fingers to the bone. I got a split second to make a scene. I got your character, your motivation and your recurring themes. It’s a little too late to say these things, they will not stand. It ain’t done with string or mirrors, but there is still sleight of hand. A little come hither, with baited charm, rising panic, mad chaos and a sense of alarm. I hear the peals of laughter, the time bell has sealed my chosen fate. You look as bad as I feel, but I’m feeling great.
7.
I have a disreputable profession, a strange outlook on life. I won’t bore you with the details, I’ll try to keep it concise. Everyone is guilty, though they know not what of, But apply the right pressure honey, it’ll soon be becomes obvious. I’ve killed, I’ve maimed, I’ve murdered, With elegance and with panache, I’ve killed, I’ve maimed, I’ve murdered, For the grace of God and cold, hard cash. I got methods, I got motives, I got means, I got opportunity, There’s no purpose, nor passion, or peace, Just opportunity, Methods, motives and means. Please prepare the contract, I expect pay in kind. I’ll be you avenging angel, be the instrument of your design. Government officials, and holy men of the cloth. They all need the unspeakable, well the choice is obvious. I got airtight, failsafe, false alibis. Friends in high places and God on my side. I got methods, and motives and means. I got opportunity, methods, motives and means. Do you want them to suffer? Know who to blame? Make it look like an accident or get someone framed? Do you want mass panic? You want blood on the streets? We will contact you again, when the contract is complete. I got opportunity, purpose, passion and peace, method, motives and means.
8.
Oh people, know! Do as exactly as you’re told. I could heal you, I could save your wicked soul, I said. Oh people, know! Bring me your women and your gold. I will lead you to the Land Of Rock’N’Roll. He likes his whiskey, neat and hard, the gambling dice and deck of cards. Women who throw themselves at his feet. He likes the smell of hot cordite, the steaming pleasures of the night. Drinking at the bar and fighting in the street. I think he’s got a message. I think he’s got something to say, I said. He likes the sound of eighteen wheels, the booze, the sex, powders and pills, And answering the questions to the knowledge that we seek. He talks of highs, he talks of lows, attends the sacred mass and burlesque shows. Likes to think before he speaks. He offers liberation, and the casting out of demons. The curing of the lame, all manner of human healing. So make a big donation, a tribute to the cause. I expect your complete attention, I want it followed by applause. He stole the fire from the gods, the pale horse from the cold hard sod. A little bit of wisdom from a cursed tree. He strikes a match and he strikes a deal, he can do it by sight, he can do it by feel. Everything’s on offer but none of it’s for free.
9.
The Tower 03:34
So, you’re weaving glories, conceiving new furores, That make the crowd go wild beneath the piles of ceaseless roaring. Still they entertain us, keep us vexed and oh so dangerous. We don’t believe a word, it doesn’t mean, we’re not contagious. We will all hang. The tower of Babel, it is able, To still transmit commands, it’s the only way to learn. It plugs direct, instant connect, Cerebellum and cortex, I do believe that it’s your turn. Man of far few words, each breath drawn a cost incurred. A layer of flesh beneath the chest is powered by the still hard-earned. A curse word strikes a chord, and skips a slur in beats of four. A verb is spoke, and quickly choked, a semi-breve, and is no more. We will all hang. Oh the rabble babbles, with their sticks and grapples. Cast unto the wind the Tower falls, it all unravels. We will all hang.
10.
The smell of burning bridges, Of old oak and tar. The boy’s hiding in the barn, From the Republican Guard. Oh, he crossed state lines, he ain’t no son of my mine. Seven hundred dollars, won’t buy him many friends. At the end of the day, what’s a few rules that bend? He’s a hunted man, he’s got debts to pay, The CIA, the IRS, the KKK. Shivers down my spine, he ain’t no child of mine. They got the wires and microphones on the plasterboard walls. The Spetsnaz is answering his personal calls. He picks up the receiver, its goes click-ety-click-click, But the little bastard knows, he’s got wise to their tricks. Oh me, oh my, he ain’t no child of mine. Oh child, Just what have you done, there’s blood on your hands and powder burns from shotguns. I can’t, I won’t, Forgive you this time, from this day forth you ain’t no son of mine. The Marshall and the Governor shooting the breeze on line two. Mossad reports they lost the mark, down in a Vera Cruz. Got to give the boy some credit, got to give him his due, He really learnt everything the old man knew. Oh lord, oh why, he ain’t no child of mine. Oh, I cast you out. Kicking, kicking and screaming. Oh, I cast you out, Out of this prison called Eden. He ain’t no son, Ain’t no son of mine. And now that you’re leaving, Out of this prison called Eden. My heart’s heavy and bleeding. Last of my personal demons. And its way past time, The whole world will know, You ain’t no son of mine.

about

Todger are proud to present their studio album "Arbiters Of Blame" (11 Nov 2016).

Roaring into the truck stop of your ear hole, Todger have been knocking out hard rocking, good times with a god damn silly band name since 2002. Drawing from 70s classic and southern rock, they blend their tight grooving rhythms and slick guitar work with tongue-in-cheek tall tales and belt-it-out BVs.

In November 2016, Todger launch their latest full studio album; "Arbiters Of Blame". With it Todger have further honed their love of guitar-rich rock styles and searing solos of yesteryear. They slurp deeply from the likes of Thin Lizzy, GnR, and Rainbow, mixing it with the big BV sing-a-long inspiration of acts such as Doobie Brothers, Eagles, The Band and even a little of Rogers And Hammerstein. With it comes the Good Reverend's dark-humoured vignettes of murder, mayhem and innuendo reminiscent of Nick Cave, Alice Cooper, Clutch and the stranger brews of bands like They Might Be Giants and The Presidents Of USA.

Todger. the first and last word in truck-based pan-genre-omni-rock. Hell Yeah!

credits

released November 11, 2016

Lead Vocals: The Good Reverend Christian S Browning
Lead Guitar & BV: Bitchin Black Jack Barber
Bass Guitar & BV: Hugh Mungus Fairclough
Drums: Bart E. Hard Porzuczek
Hammond Organ on "Deep Red Soil": Gavin Badman Kinch

Recorded, mixed and mastered: Gavin Kinch at Rocket Studio, Croydon. (www.rocket-studio.co.uk)

Artwork: Mike Hutchinson (www.crikeymiles.com)

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TODGER England, UK

Roaring into the truck stop of your earhole, Todger are 4 old friends from London knocking out hard rocking, good times with a god damn silly band name. Drawing from 70s classic and southern rock and the belief that watching live music should be truckin good fun, they blend their tight grooving rhythms and slick guitar work with tongue in cheek tall tales, innuendo and belt-it-out BVs. ... more

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