Four​/​Five​/​Six on a Plastic Disc

by Bandit The Panther

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This album collects the fourth, fifth, and sixth Bandit The Panther records, released between 2011-2012, plus a few bonus 'internet singles' from in between albums!

Tesco Value Melancholy (tracks 1-12), released September 2012
Adam Bennett/Bandit The Panther Split (tracks 13-15), released August 2012
Winter In London (tracks 16-22), released May 2011
The Long, Cold Walk Home", released December 2012
"Dinosaur Union [Demo]", released August 2011
"Winter In London [Acoustic]", released March 2011

Original Pressing Info:
Tesco Value Melancholy - Handmade CDr/100
Adam Bennett Split - Cassette Orange/18; White/02
Winter In London - Digital Only


released September 2, 2012

On Tesco Value Melancholy, Bandit The Panther is: Joe Singer - vocals/guitar/uke/casio; Tiberius Hughes - bass/backing vocals; Cat Mackenzie-Smith - viola/backing vocals; Adam Bennett - Guest Vocals on 'When The Windows Break'

On Adam Bennett/Bandit The Panther Split, Bandit The Panther is: Joe Singer - vocals/guitar/uke/casio; Tiberius Hughes - bass/backing vocals; Cat Mackenzie-Smith - viola

On Winter In London, Bandit The Panther is: Joe - vocals/guitar/uke/bass; Andrew - drums/backing vocals; Cat - viola



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Bandit The Panther London, UK

Bandit The Panther are a DIY lo-fi punk group based in London. They write folk, punk and reggae infused tunes about London, being in a band, and having no money (due to both). Bandit has toured the UK several times and their latest album 'I Have This Town' is out on Aaahh! Real Records. ... more

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Track Name: When The Windows Break
this is for the unambitious ones/delinquent daughters and stay-at-home sons/the 9 to 5, 5 days a week/we walk these ancient empire streets at 120 miles an hour/so addicted to their power/well you better shape up and you better get wise/anarchists come on a recruitment drive/and theyre waving those black flags so high/and you can see them out on the street waving their banners, yeah they want you to come down and join them/and i hear the windows break from the people smashing in at me/who dont want to put their dent in the world/and i hear the windows break/they smashed them in and they smashed the state/and i can feel it in my aching bones/that we're always alone at the curtain call/running when we hit 'em/sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me/you know they'll just divert me from my activities/when the windows break nobody hesitate/theyre gonna smash down the city, gonna break down the buildings/now everybody say what the movement means to them and to you and me/but no one gets the point, you know that i dont see their point, you know that/i hear the windows break/they smashed them in like they smashed the state/and i can feel it in my aching bones/that we're always alone at the curtain call/from the people smashing in at me/who dont want to put their dent in the world
Track Name: The Bank Job
whether you like it or not we come out of school and you know we need a job/it makes rent and it makes beer money too/but working in the city is only for some of you/on paper the work seems pretty fine/but in the morning take a trip on the jubilee or city lines/silence is louder than the northen at midnight/but theres people all around me/theyre as useful to society as three stops on the waterloo and city/so for taking my mates and making them faceless/fuck conglomerates, economists and banks/of course they get a healthy little nest egg/but how do you spend it when youre sitting there cross-legged/in a trouser suit, blackberry and headphones/those money spinning economists make the world spin on its axis/i know i was rubbish at maths at school/maybe im just jealous of you/you make more money in a week than me/but does your big empty house make you feel happy?/well if it does sorry, cos its not for me to judge/but dont you get the urge to run into the woods and fuck?/that'd ruin your nice pressed trouser suit/cos if we all look the same then nobody breaks ranks/and on the soul crushing morning run to work/the suit and the tie seems to make things worse/but whats the point in my taking the piss/when you'll only listen if our music sounds like this: change your life mate, youre working for the devil/at the end of the working week its time to hit the pub/we dress down out of a our trouser suits and head into the city/we'll be burnin' and a-lootin' tonight/maybe we can start up a fight/but the face on the clock on the wall will remind us that we are clones of one another in time/change your life mate, youre working for the devil
Track Name: Weapons Of Maths Destruction
like the book as a page, and the page holds the words my turntable has a record on and the needle makes the sound, but the ever-marching revolution of digital distribution means that everything runs through computer mainframes and that seems such a fucking mistake/but dont stress me out cos i suffer from OCD, and it cant be long til it kills my psyche/ but everyone's got a bit of it, don't they?
Track Name: Tesco Value Horror
i stare down from my tower block/watching death and destruction/the protest movement was an absolute failure/and im watching london burn like in the time of boudicia/but the city of london has burned since then/the great fire started it, the blitz just continued it/looting through the streets so they could be built up again/raising tower block estates that no one can escape from/and patches of green, lying through the middlethe sun comes out, and shines through the city/battles are staged on those open common grounds/and the guns come up at sunset to incite another battle/it makes you wonder what happened to the people/the english up and left cos theyre the ones who can afford to/bangladeshis had to stay, theyre just holed up in their ghettowith clapham in the suburbs burning as the fire spread/moving down through brixton, on its way to streatham/looting everything and leaving hammersmith behind/and burning every single suit on the waterloo and city line/but did nobody stop to think and calculate the time the olympic torch would take to burn out?/lighting up the streets on its way to stratford it made a fucking crater of what used to be deptford/and in its wake we saw old shopping trollies in every dried up river/the townsfolk stopped and stared at the tesco burning horror/theyre screaming 'where do we get our vegetables from cos its the only place we know'/'oh mate, you dont understand, you know it was like our second home!'/i saw a girl, she was telling me to run far/cos if the hood police catch me, i'm pretty much done for/i nestled my head back, pulled my hood up tighter/'if they want me, come and get me' is what i called out to her/and at a certain point, the people had stop and rectify the situation/'every looter in handcuffs' is the general idea/so to avoid repeating history/and the razing of our city/we all marched into the sunset/holding hands and our petitions
Track Name: Squatter's Last Rites
if you aint got a place to go and you aint got a job/you aint got many options, but you can choose to squat/it used to be a lifestyle for those with a 70s political bent/but now its been hijacked by those with brand new phones/cos mummy pays for living costs and daddy pays for shoes/but im a pretty cool guy I only spend it on drugs and booze/you can find me at a squat party smashed on MDMA/I think these girls are fucking sluts and they love that I live this way/but I just want to be a rebel like the clash/but I dont understand when the had money, they spent it on a flat/its all about the rebel image, oh mate we smashed it up/like a gypsy thief we sneak in and we'll make your house our home/aint got no real values, oh mate, I smashed her up/I got to squat parties and I collect video snuff/everyone tries to find a place to call their own/we hate the outside oh so much we reject it for inside/and I know I sound like a hypocrite cos I look like a dirty hippy/but you'll never find me on a street corner rapping to hip hop/twenty thousand pounds worth of damage is done/but they wont lay a finger on me/cos im reckless, im an egotist/I am a fucking liability/so where your political statement/cos you're living In empty buildings/one of these days a rain will come and wash you off the street/heres my open letter to you outlining my position/if you got the time to talk down to women/you've got the time to get a job and contribute/its all about the rebel image, oh mate we smashed it up/like a gypsy thief we sneak in and we'll make your house our home/ain't got no real values, oh mate, I smashed her up/I got to squat parties and I collect video snuff
Track Name: Love Song From The Home Section
vomit on the dancefloor/I step over it quickly/she couldve thrown up in the gutter/she couldve thrown up on the ceiling/im seeing low cut shirts on the blokes and the girls, flaunting their shiny peacock feathers they stumble, get up, continue to twirl/but I will hold your hair for you/while you chuck your guts into the loo/had one too many desperados, some get all the luck/I love you but ive seen too much/I stepped outside the club for a smoke, on the way back in got hassle from the bloke on the door cos he wants to see my ID but ive only been out for a minute or three/if I had a ukelele id play you clash songs, washington bullets or guns of briston, we sing through the night and stay up till 6, fall asleep in each other arms after this/I will hold your hair for you/while you chuck your guts into the loo/had one too many long island ice teas but you still look so pretty/I love these nights in the city/now half the roads are full of taxis, maybe we should max out all our cards/ten pounds is the limit on plastic, in urinals I find pissing twice as hard/next to the makeshift snorting surface are remnants of this friday night out/well their weekend seems to last forever, but soon my surfing holiday will be cut short/and you can hold my hair for me/in the morning you can make me a recovery tea/we drank the bar clean of neat whiskey now we're pretty smashed/I love you and you love me back
Track Name: No New Complaints?
the funnels of a sunken ship rise up like tower blocks/the time at clapham common reads a constant 8 o'clock/and i could ride the bus or i could always take the tube/anything is fine if it brings me closer to you/cos its 10am on thursday and im sitting on my own drinking orange juice, occasionally shouting down the phone/cos today it is my holiday, i work through the weekend/tomorrow i will get up and i will start my week again/ive amassed a decent record collection and every day i play/my favourite 45 rpm singles while I wait/cos i cannot think of a single thing that makes me smile at all/im sitting playing tony hawks on a dreamcast, aint i cool!/and ive got a red stripe in my hand by 1 o' clock/and i'll drink it to the evening, and i'll never fuckin' stop/and in 24 hours i will turn up at my workplace/and i'll be so stone-cold sober cos theres no one to get a round with/and it feels like an alarm clock is ringing through my brain, going over and over again/at 7.45 i get up and and go to work, and drink two cups of tea - save one cup for me!/and i cant work through the weekend with out medication in my veins/rocketing to my brain/we sat at camden lock and watched the sun burn up the summer and it kind of cheered us up/you kind of cheered me up, but then i go/i trace my footsteps back to home/to my home, oh i ride up to my home, to my home/when im out there on my own and im feeling ten years old, to my home
Track Name: Musical Vengance (2012 Megamix)
it seems a bit off/could have been more upfront/just say it again and again and again/my hope were up ad im a big clash fan/now im dashed in the rain/and im an angry man/i wont complain about a free invite/and im here aint I?/oh what a surprise/but im not gonna lie, im pretty pissed off/dont want to hear your excuses or all your lies/it feels like no ones ever noticed me/but for the first time ever/my guitar aint clean/i gotta pitch up, easy, no prestige/no smiles, no claps, thats it for me/now change the frequency cos im up next/ten second soundcheck/twenty minute long set/im no prima dona and I wont storm home/im no copycat either play songs that sound like my own/youre small and youre thin/you dont look too tasty/but if you offer me out you know we'll fight anyway/a shake of the hand, congratulations it seems but the punch on the nose/you know its really mean/and it feels like ive run shit out of luck/but for the first time ever my hands are covered in blood/so take a photograph of my bloodstained hand/cos thats the perfect way to remember the plan
Track Name: FUNemployment
ts hard to find positives when everythings so negative/a better man than me couldnt turn this around/no more talk of unions/an old conversation now/we all saw this coming a hundred miles off/ive tried smiling bitterly, my anger rose quickly/its my gut reaction to tightness in throat/some thieving cheers us up/before we all get caught/then when sit in sofas with whiskey in hand/and i understand that all our skills sets are so limited/mines a guitar hammering and baby you could be a physicist/we all turned around to find that we have no job security/they breaking up the old team, and theres no chance of replacing them at all/my telephones quiet, except for news that my mums ill/when black clouds are circling i got the whole hog/my emails is quiet, no shouts from employers/and i dont expect to get some til the markets pick up/so im back to warehouses/the girls become secretaries/and everyone else/just fights to survive!/i cant pay my rent and im leaving tonight
Track Name: Kind Of A Holiday
ts kind of a holiday/im not taking family or friends/just meeting amanda for a weekend in ireland/just an opportunity to get out of the city/we fly away to an irish wedding/no violins at the reception/oh the bands playing pop songs, its such a damn shame/im gonna have to put away my bohdrain/no dancing for me/till they start playing journey/and so i wait my turn/i wait my turn/no bushmills on tap cos its a protestant whiskey/and everybody around is a big connected family/oh their life in the countryside is pretty damn simple/we build our houses and learn to live with constant drizzle/so here i am on my own personal holiday/getting away from work (but not on a weekend)/so i wait my turn/days of hotel sex and nights drinking down at the bar/clean with a power shower, makes a change from my bath/going days without emails, yeah nobody can reach me/i'm cut off from the world, and im taking my holiday/but all good things they have to come to an end/and i'm waiting in line, sitting at terminal 2/i hear the voice of the pilot loud on the tannoy/we got a captive audience for in-flight shopping/so quickly it went by but im coming back pretty soon.
Track Name: Old Friends
Does anybody want to be alone? (cos thats what I've read abut). They're eating Soylent Green alone. On strictly a diet of Soylent Air and it's burning in my throat. Oh, and I slide away - not far away - cos Soylent Green is people.