LOST LOVE - nothing to report

This is a Dark Age in the history of The State Of Love... very few records are available for this period. There are precious few reports of activity. The borders are completely closed, there is no communication with the outside world. What is more, nobody seems to remember exactly where it is, or be able to find it on a map, or even show much desire to make contact with it... as if, like a vague Shangri-La, it had retreated to an H. Rider Haggard Himalayan mystery zone...

SO - All the links below are broken. We will continue to monitor all reports of the activity of The State Of Love, but until a firmer grasp of the situation is available all broadcast interceptions et cetera will now be published at The Piper Machine.


As a final tearful 1940's railway platform farewell, this compilation of recent musical messages gives us perhaps some telling clues as to the internal struggles within Love.


HERE

Is it a date?

My Darlings!

Finally - yearn no more. Your opportunity to bask in the glow of the Dictator's vast Love for you all, as a country and as individuals (especially you), is very close.

In a grand outburst of passions - civic, emotional, sexual, cerebral - let's go to the rally together, my love.

The Dictator of Love will be personally appearing and expressing his deep and powerful Love for you, alongside state orchestra The Real Tuesday Weld and Beskydy, accompanied by a series of incredibly striking moving images designed to pluck the strings of your heart.

PROPAGANDA FOR THE STATE OF LOVE

David Piper
The Real Tuesday Weld
Beskydy
Art Direction: Catherine Anyango

Friday 5th December

19.00

The Victoria & Albert Museum





In anticipation of this momentous event, we will be releasing songs in order to get you In The Mood For Love. Because, don't you know, Baby I'm In The Mood For You






Have You Got Any Castles, Baby? - Dolly Dawn and her Dawn Patrol

It's Only a Paper Moon - The King Cole Trio

When I Get You Alone Tonight - Wingy Manone

The Pig Latin Song - Nellie Lutcher

They'll Never take Her Love From Me - Hank Williams

Says My Heart - Billie Holliday & Her Orchestra

On A Cocoanut Island - Louis Armstrong feat. Andy Iona, George Archer, And Harry Baty And The Polynesians

I'm Gonna Jump In The River - Buddy Johnson and his Orchestra

Blue Lou - Eddie Heywood

The Love Bug Will Bite You - The Mills Brothers

I Love Me - Eddie Cantor

Who is short-selling your heart?

While the world panics - that horrible dream in which you have enough of the instincts of a timid cat to know only fear and the desire to run under furniture, but you are too fat to fit underneath, or move quickly enough - we love.

Love provides everything money cannot - I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm - Ray Noble and his American Orchestra.

Do not think about safety, whether in the long or short term. You are in the State of Love. The point is not that you have nothing else to trust... it is that nothing else can provide as much in times of famine as in plenty.

Love Now Pay Later - Lee Shot Williams

Can't Buy Me Love - Peter Sellers

Can't Buy Me Love - The Better Beatles via Frankosonic

Romance Without Finance - Tiny Grimes Quintette

Baby Please Loan Me Your Heart - Papa Charlie Jackson

"The more willingly you surrender, the sooner you will find mercy."

The God of Love, whose constant endeavour had been to watch and follow me with drawn bow, had stopped beneath a fig-tree; and when he observed that I had chosen that bud, which pleased me better than any of the others, he at once took an arrow. When the string was in the nook, he drew the bow, which was wonderfully strong, back to his ear, and loosed his arrow at me in such a way and with such a force that the point entered my eye and penetrated my heart. Then I was seized with a chill which has often made me shiver since, even when wearing a warm fur-lined cloak. When I had been thus shot, I immediately fell backwards. My heart was false and failed me and I lay for a long time in a swoon. When I recovered consciousness and came to my senses I was very weak and therefore imagined that I had lost a lot of blood. But the point that pierced me drew no blood at all, and the wound was quite dry. Then I took hold of the arrow with both hands and began to pull hard, sighing a great deal as I pulled. I pulled so hard that I drew out the flighted shaft, but the barbed point, which was named Beauty was so fixed in my heart that it could not be torn out; it remains there still, and yet the wound has never bled.

I was in great trouble and torment, unable, on account of this double danger, to do or say anything or to find a physician for my wound, for no medicine could be expected from herb or root; instead my heart drew me towards the rose-bud, and desired nothing else. If I had had it in my possession, it would have given me back my life; the mere sight and scent of it brought me considerable relief from pain.

Then, as I began to make my way towards the sweetly scented rose-bud, Love had already grasped another arrow, worked in gold. It was the second arrow, named Simplicity, and it has caused many men and women throughout the world to fall in love. When Love saw me approach, without warning he loosed the arrow, which was made without steel, so that it entered my eye and wounded my heart. No man living will ever cure me of it, for when I pulled, I drew out the shaft without much effort, but the point remains within. Now you may know for certain that if I had greatly desired the rose-bud before, my longing was now increased, and as the pain grew more intense, so also did my desire continually to approach the little rose that smelled sweeter than violets. It would have been better for me to draw back, but I could not refuse the bidding of my heart. I was always compelled to go where it longed to be. But the archer, who strove hard and mightily to wound me, would not allow me to pass that way unharmed and, the better to hurt me, loosed his third arrow, named Courtesy, at me. The wound was deep and wide, and I perforce fell swooning beneath a spreading olive-tree, where I lay for a long time without moving. When I recovered my strength, I took hold of the arrow and removed the shaft from my side, but, do what I might, I could not remove the point.

Then I sat down, very anxious and pensive. The wound caused me great distress, and urged me to approach the rose-bud that I desired. But the archer rekindled my fear, and I was right to be afraid, for the man who has been scalded should fear water. However, necessity is a powerful force, and even if I had seen it raining crossbow bolts and stones, pelting down as thick as hail, I would still have had to approach, for Love, who is greater than anything, gave me courage and daring to obey his command. I got to my feet, weak and feeble as a wounded man, and, undaunted by the archer, made a great effort to walk towards the little rose to which my heart was drawn; but there were so many thorns and thistles and brambles that I was unable to get past them and reach the rose-bud. I had to stay near the hedge of very sharp thorns which was next to the roses. I was very happy to be so close to the rose-bud that I could smell the sweet scent that issued from it, and filled with delight to be able to look upon it freely. Thus I was well rewarded and forgot my troubles in my joy and delight. I was very glad and joyful, for nothing ever pleased me so greatly as being in that place, and I would have never wished to depart. But when I had been there for some time, the God of Love, tearing apart my body, which had become his target, launched a new assault. In order to hurt me, he loosed yet another arrow and wounded me once more in my heart, beneath my breast. The arrow's name was Company, and there is none that conquers ladies or maidens more quickly. At once the great pain of my wounds was reawakened, and I swooned away three times in succession.

On coming to my senses, I moaned and sighed, for my pain was growing worse and I had no hope of cure or relief. I would rather have been dead than alive, for in the end, I thought, I would become a martyr to Love, there was no other way out. Meanwhile he took another arrow, which he prized greatly and which I hold to be most wounding: it was Fair Seeming, which does not permit a lover to repent of serving Love, whatever he may feel. It is sharp and piercing and keen as a steel razor, but Love had thoroughly anointed its tip with precious ointment so that it would not hurt me too much, for Love did not want me to die, but rather to find relief through the application of the ointment, which was full of comfort. Love has made it with his own hands to comfort true lovers, and to soothe my hurts he shot this arrow at me, and made a great wound in my heart. The ointment spread through my wounds and gave me back my heart, which had failed me completely. I would have been dead and in a bad way had it not been for that sweet ointment. I quickly drew out the shaft, but the point, newly sharpened, remained within. Five arrowheads were thus embedded and it will scarcely be possible to remove them. The ointment was very good for my wounds, yet the wound hurt me so much that the pain made me change colour. It is the strange property of this arrow to be both sweet and bitter. I felt and realized that it helped me, but it also hurt me; the point was painful though the unction brought relief. On the one hand it soothed, on the other it made me smart, and thus it both helped and harmed. Straightaway Love came towards me with rapid steps, crying g as he came: ' Vassal, you are captured, there is no way to escape or defend yourself. Yield, and do not resist. The more willingly you surrender, the sooner you will find mercy. It is foolish to behave arrogantly towards one whom you should flatter and beseech. You cannot struggle against me, and I wish you to learn that wickedness and pride will avail you nothing. Surrender, since I wish it, peacefully and with good grace.'

Immediately I replied: 'In God's name, I give myself up willingly, and will never defend myself against you. God forbid that I should ever think of so defending myself, for it would neither be reasonable nor right. You may do with me whatever you like, hang me or kill me, for I know that I am helpless, my life is in your hands. I cannot live until tomorrow unless it is your will. I hope for joy and health from you, for I shall never have them from anyone else, but only if your hand, which wounded me, provides a remedy; and whether you wish to make me your prisoner or prefer not to, I shall not count myself deceived, nor, I assure you, will I be angry. I have heard so much good of you that I wish to place my heart and body entirely at your service, for nothing can hurt me if I do your will. I will also, I think, receive at some time the mercy that I hope for, and under these conditions I surrender.'

Thereupon I wanted to kiss his foot, but he took me by the hand and said: 'I love and esteem you for the way you have answered. Indeed, no rough, untutored man ever gave such an answer, and it has so benefited you that now, for your own good, I wish you to do me homage and to kiss my mouth, which no low-born man has ever touched. I do not allow every peasant and swineherd to touch my mouth; the man whom I thus take into my service must be courteous and noble. Serving me is always painful and burdensome, nevertheless I do you great honour, and you should be very happy to have so good a master and so renowned a lord, for Love bears the standard and the banner of Courtesy and is so kind and noble, so excellently and gently mannered that the man who strives to serve and honour him will be free from all baseness and misconduct and from every bad habit.

Thereupon I joined my hands and became his liegeman, and you may be sure that I was very proud when his mouth kissed mine: it was this that gave me the greatest joy.

The Romance Of The Rose, Guillame de Lorris, trans. Frances Horgan


Cupid - Sam Cooke
Cupid - Amy Winehouse
Cupid - Emily Milliken
Cupid - The Impalas
Estupido Cupido - Celly Campello
Stupid Cupid - Sakura and The Quests
Dont Mess With Cupid - Otis Redding
Shot Down - The Sonics
Shot Down - The Cynics
You Give Love A Bad Name - Atreyu
You Give Love A Bad Name - Bon Jovi
I'm Leaning on the Lord - Famous Blue Jay Singers
Precious Lord Take My Hand - Golden Gate Quartet
Precious Lord Take My Hand - Mavis Staples
There Must Be Little Cupids In the Briny - Billy Murray
Slave To Love - Roxy Music

by the brilliant Paul Slater

Leadership

The Missing Link, The Grandest Mystery

Neanderthal Man - The Hotlegs

(watch the video)

Who was the first person to fall in Love? Which pair of hairy cavemates was suddenly, inexplicably, without warning or the slightest preparation by prior experience, lifted by the momentous revolution: from scrabbling in the mud and feasting on their own fleas, to caring for nothing but the gaze of their lover's eyes and their deliciously brutish smell - not just security and familiarity, to their sensitive wild nostrils, but something of an entirely different dimension?

It surely came before communication could express anything more subtle than survival: sex - danger - warmth - food! They had no words other than variations of UG! - and none of the thousands of poets who came after to at least warn them of the possibility of such a cataclysmic and massively strange clubbing over the head.

Imagine! To have only ever experienced the simplest physical needs, and the most basic emotions necessary to supply them - and then to be thrown into the grand mystery of Love!

Never having experienced mystery before, and then to fall in Love! What is this breathless giddiness, how has my world been swept so abruptly from under my feet? What immense power crushes me one moment and fills me with the most brilliant sunshine the next?

For us, at least, the extreme shock is something we are aware of - language may not be able to reveal Love's full mystery, but it can alert us to its existence, tell us its name, give us comparisons, hints as to the size of its domain. Love is a devastating, powerful force for us - but it has a name. Ah! I am in 'Love!' WE are in 'Love!'

Though the new society we are building is the first to elevate Love to its rightful place as the basis of not just cultural, but political activities, it is a prerequisite of all civilisations that the act of falling in Love is important, well-known, and much talked-about. But poor, lucky cavelovers! From a world of beasts, dank forests, bones and rocks, to a world of Love!

Love is what elevated us from the animals and first expanded our existence from purely instinctual to that ruled by the heart... It clearly follows that our race of Lovers, who have always ruled by the heart far more than any others... is the most advanced of all humanity.

But we know that Love, however much a force for good, also has the capacity for great cruelty. What if our primal Love was unrequited? A young hunter's flaming desire for the biggest and most hirsute mammoth-killer's consort, cruelly ignored... he would have suffered triplefold. Not only by the well-known, earth-shattering angst of utter solitude and imprisonment, which our modern scientists have still failed to provide a cure for, not only by the terrible confusion of a mind totally unequipped to even to begin to understand the power of this new emotion - but worst, by the obvious lack of the one person who might have been able to help him, if just by proximity alone, cope with it... Our broken-hearted apeman must have surely been also the first suicide.

Although there is much anecdotal archaeological evidence for this theory, it is, of course, impossible to prove entirely. However, with much-intensified urgent efforts underway, there have been extremely exciting reports from our teams in the field. We hope to be able to announce, very shortly, the precise location of The Cave of First Love...

(There is one thing I do know... there's a lot of women in Mesopotamia - The B-52s)

GIRLS! GIRLS! GIRLS!

I wouldn't attempt to defend my spotty morals, or whitewash

My flaws with aggressive lies.

If it's any help, I confess. Admission of guilt. Then why not

Go the whole hog, indict

My faults myself? I hate what I am, yet (try as I may) can't

Not be the thing that revolts me. It's hell

Being stuck with what you can't kick. I lack all firmness

And strength to control my moods, get whirled away

Like a skiff in a current. There's no one type of beauty

That arouses my longing: if I'm always in love

Blame my wide-ranging interests. Shyness and modesty spark me

Off every time - a demurely lowered face

And I'm hooked. But it's just the same if she's pertly forward:

Sophistication promises well in bed.

A primly old-fashioned appearance, then? I always suspect that's

Mere camouflage for unacknowledged desire.

A bluestocking turns me on with her intellectual powers,

A featherbrain ditto just by being naive.

Then there's the girl who tells me Callimachus is a bungler

Compared to me - I always go for my fans -

Or the critical termagant who slates both poems and author:

How I long to be laid by her as well!

One's got a slinky walk: that gets me. Another's uptight -

She can be softened out with a little sex.

A fine operatic voice, for me, is a standing temptation

To smother the singer with kisses in mid-song.

Guitar-lessons help. Watch those fingers - the chords, the glissandos!

How fail to fall in love with such clever hands?

Then think of the floor-show dancer, arms weaving in rhythm,

Doing undulant bumps and grinds:

Never mind about me (I'm just omnisusceptible), make pure

Hippolytus watch her act

And even he'd go priapic.

You're tall, like the heroines of legend,

Lie the full length of a bed;

But petite girls, too, are attractive. I'm sold on both sizes -

Long and short alike are equally to my taste.

The fashionable I enjoy at their face-value, the unsmart

For all they could be, a la mode.

I'm crazy for girls who are fair-haired and pale-complexioned -

But brunettes make great lovers too:

The sight of dark tresses against a snow-white neck reminds me

That Leda was famed for her black curls,

While a flaxen poll calls up thoughts of blonde Aurora -

My sex-life runs the entire

Mythological gamut. My tastes are equally all-embracing:

Young girls have the looks - but when it comes to technique

Give me an older woman. In short, there's a vast cross-section

Of desirable beauties in Rome - and I want them all!

Ovid, The Amores, Ch. 4 Book 2, trans. Peter Green

Girls Girls Girls - Sailor

Girls - Beastie Boys

Pretty Girls Everywhere - Eugene Church

Twenty To One - Lord Kitchener

21 Girl Salute - Barrington Levy

A Beautiful Girl/Music To Watch Girls By - John Rydgren

(With thanks to the 365 Days Project)

The Girl From Ipanema - Elvis Costello

Fat Bottom Girls - Hayseed Dixie

Cape Cod Girls - Baby Gramps

Seven Sisters Blues - J.T. Smith

Little Sister - Ry Cooder

Hard Headed Woman - Elvis Presley

Give Me A Woman - Andy Starr

Cigarettes, Whiskey and Wild Wild Women - Tex Ritter

Wine, Women And Song - Harry Gritts

Whiskey, Weed and Women - Hank Williams III

Woman [Previously Unreleased] - Free

Voodoo Woman - Koko Taylor

Independent Women/Dreadlock Holiday - Soulwax (Destiny's Child vs 10cc)

Women Women Women - Shelley Lee Alley and his Alley Cats

Sittin' On Top Of The World - Bob Wills and The Texas Playboys

The Girl With The Pre-Fabricated Heart - Fernand Leger/Hans Richter - The Real Tuesday Weld with Cibelle and David Piper: DREAMS THAT MONEY CAN BUY