You Sound Like Louis Burdett

"You Sound Like Louis Burdett" by The Whitlams

Transcribed by Daniel Meijer <dm@zip.com.au>

This is a chord transcription. In most of the song the bass is the main

accompaniment, with some guitar comping as embellishments. So the chords

are implied by the bass, and I've deduced them from what I could pick up

from the guitar and keys. Hope it all makes sense! For the curious, Louis

Burdett is a Sydney muso from Newtown (home of all povvo musos and wanky

left-wing arts students), and a former flatmate of Tim Freedman.

Now, Tim's phrasing of the lyrics are not repetitive - that's their

attraction! For that reason I'm not going to try to line up the chord

changes with with lyrics...in the verse, the change |Ebm B Bb| is repeated

- listen to the CD, you'll hear where and when the changes happen :-)

Ebm B Bb (repeat)

Verse (same chords):

Had a little bit to drink

There's a little thing I wanted to do out east

Nothing too emotional, my good miss

I couldn't be serious in a room full of jack-knife eyes

Stop talking 'bout the years -

you sound like Louis Burdett

And we roll on to my back shed

Play some poker, scratch my head

Look at the sky and spot the planes

Where would I go on holidays?

Roll with the punches down the aisles

and down the streets the weeks roll by.

Verse 2: (Ebm B Bb)

I'm chewing ice and grinning

I'm spewing up and spinning

It's biliousness as usual in my corner of the kitchen.

Hey you, lose that friend before we go anywhere

What? Someone might see you alone?

Stop bagging out the band,

You sound like Louis Burdett

All my friends are fuckups

but they're fun to have around

Banana chairs out on the concrete

Telling stories to the stars

How Geminis love wooden dragons, yeah

How down the street the weeks roll by.

The moment the night wears off the bombsite reappears

They're all asleep but the morning tastes like wine

It tastes like wine in Tempe

I feel so good I, just might, wake him up

Pat him on the bald head - tell me about a dream, Louis

Something obscene, Louis

Your life's an open magazine, Louis.

Solo over same chords.

I'm stoned in a bookshop, sober in a nightclub

Sex is everywhere but no-where around me

By the time she gets to Marrickville we'll be masturbating

Never rains in Tempe but the planes remind me of family money

And the lack down here

Stop talking, frustrated, 'cause I sound like Louis Burdett

And we roll on to my back shed

Play some poker, scratch my head

Look at the sky and spot the planes

Where would I go on holidays?

Roll with the punches down the aisles

and down the streets the weeks roll by.

All my friends are fuckups

but they're fun to have around

Banana chairs out on the concrete

Telling stories to the stars

How Geminis love wooden dragons, yeah

How down the street the weeks roll by.

Outro (same chords as chorus):

Most of my friends are very fruity indeed, such fun to have around

Terror, like charity, begins at home

Chris don't like madness, but madness likes him

He's got a finger in his chest saying how it should have been

Chorus again

...and how down the street the weeks, roll by.