sweaty crease 30

Greener and grassier, play.

swcrease30.nfo

1. play the music
2. look at photos
3. play again if music stops


The Swiss Movement - The Grass is Greener
pressed in 1973


do, do, do, doo! doo!
do, do, do, doo! doo!

youève got a ring on your finger, but you watch the girls as they walk by
youève got a pocket full of money, but you want more so youère thinking youèll try
youève got a beautiful home to live in, but you want one thatès bigger out there
yes you do
youève got friends that care, but you donèt think about them, no, no, not you
no, no, no

and everyoneès grass is greener, on everyone elseès lawn
everyoneès grass looks nicer
but you donèt know till it is gooone

rings cars fancy clothes big planned home, everybody knows
bird in the hand is worth two in the bush
hey man
be thankful
for what youève got

you gotta a job that pays well, but you think that life is so tough
you look at the other man and you donèt think youève got it no no, no, no
you want more, (more) much more(more), not satisfied (more) with what youève got

but when you ever gonna realize
that what youève got is an awful lot
hey hey

everyoneès grass is greener, on everyone elseès lawn
everyoneès grass looks nicer
and you donèt know till it is gooone

everyoneès grass is greener, on everyone elseès lawn
(take the time to see)everyoneès grass looks nicer
on everyone elses lawn

(everything is everything)
everyoneès grass is greener, on everyone elseès lawn











The first time I actually spoke to Rema: she was again sitting right in front of me at the Hungarian Pastry Shop, and I had leaned forward toward that hair, and I actually tapped her shoulder, but then what was I going to say if she turned aroundÉ I had no plan.




She did indeed turn around in her chair, her profile showing off her long, gently fluted nose and the tendons on her neck.

I found myself asking her if she was Hungarian.

During the silence of indeterminate length that followed I fixed my gaze upon her forehead, since I couldnèt possibly look straight into her eyes, and what I eventually heard, in a lilting long-voweled accent, was: Why do you stare at meÉ Do you want anythingÉ
Over the sound of milk being steamed I asked, alarmed, ÈDo I stare at youÉÈ
ÈYou are from HungaryÉÈ came from her, now in a louder voice, to the sound of silverware being sorted.
ÈNo, no.È
ÈOh.È
ÈThough my mother. Actually.È
ÈOhÉÈ
ÈBut no. Not me. A mistake.È
ÈA mistake.È
ÈDo you make cakes hereÉÈ shouted a surprisingly tiny woman across the nearby counter.
And I remember it striking me then (as my mishearing had nearly become conversation) how in my line of work the fact that I sometimes canèt hear so well - I just have trouble disarticulating sounds - is almost a plus, since people give out so many clues about whatès ailing them that are so much more important than the actual words they say. But in all other aspects of my life this ÈqualityÈ left me crippled. - Rivka Galchen (cut)