Happy Mother's Day Ma's
<![CDATA[<a href="https://www.youtube.com/v/KD5tAVuo9Hw" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" class="bbc_link bbc_flash_disabled new_win">https://www.youtube.com/v/KD5tAVuo9Hw</a>]]>from: Annotated Fall:
http://annotatedfall.doomby.com/pages/the-annotated-lyrics/mother-sister.html1. Despite this introduction, it has been suggested that the song may be about being caught masturbating, or in the midst of some sex act. This seems like a plausible reading, although a speculative one, so it should be regarded with a certain amount of suspicion; indeed, see the account from Martin Brahmah below, which seems to suggest otherwise.
Una Baines wrote the music, and her band Poppycock released a song in 2016, "Lizard Man," which appears on the German Shepherd charity album Malawi. It begins with a man saying "Eh, what's this about?" and another man responding "Eh, nothing!"
Martin Brahmah tells a story that would explain much about the lyrics:
THE STORY OF MOTHER-SISTER!
“Mother-Sister!” That’s a funny one. That’s one I just arranged, I suppose, because Una’s credit was writing the music, because she did write the basic chords on the piano. Playing off that, I had to come up with an interesting bass line and a quirky guitar part. I was trying to make it Beefhearty, more angular. Obviously Mark wrote the words. Mark told me to say, “what’s this song about?” at the start of it - that’s me saying that. That was the little patter he just told me to say in the studio, you ask me what this song’s about, and I’ll say, nothing.
I didn’t get for a while that Mother-Sister! is actually about my mother, about a story I told him. He’s describing where we lived, but I didn’t realise it at the time, it was only later that I did. That’s why he asked me to ask what the song was about, because it was about me and my mother. That’s what Mark is like, subtly deceitful! He only came round to our house once, I think. I’d told him about not having a father, and he’d tell me to shut up, because he thought I was bragging. But that’s just my story, I didn’t know my father.
I grew up with my mum . . . well when I was younger, I lived with my gran, and I’d see my mum at weekends. They’d tell me that this was quite common then, in Manchester in those days, in the sixties. But for kids who didn’t know who the father was, they’d say your gran was your mum, and your mum was your sister, and your great-gran was your gran, et cetera . . . they’d move the generation up a notch to explain the lack of a father. So when I was young, I thought my gran was my mum, because that’s who I lived with, and I thought my mum was my sister.
So when I tried to explain this to Mark, he was quite miffed that I’d had a more urchin-like childhood than him, because he saw himself as working class, but he had a dad, and his dad was a self-employed plumber. So he had his own business. Whereas, I didn’t know who my dad was, I’d been brought up between houses in east Manchester. The penny didn’t drop for a while, nonetheless, that Mother-Sister! was obviously about me talking about my relationship with my mother, that she’s more like a big sister than a mum. I went to live with my mum finally when I was seven, and that’s when I moved to Prestwich, in north Manchester.
I was telling Mark about that, and outside the house, when he visited . . . we lived by the motorway, and there was a big electricity pylon outside of the house. You could hear buzzing all the time, but we got the house really cheap because it was by an electricity pylon and a motorway! And of course, the song ends with “why did you put your head in the pylon?” and he starts screaming! That part doesn’t make a lot of sense, but it’s impressions of my family home.
I had quite a pretty mum, so he may have fancied her. A lot of my friends did, because she was a pretty blond and young for a mum - a lot of lads with older mums thought mine was quite sexy, as teenaged boys do! I was told that my mum was my sister, though my mum denies it now! I’d been given it subtly, at a young age. I used to stay with my mum at weekends. My mum lived with my great-gran, and she’d had the same thing happen . . . she thought her gran was her mum when she was young. There were no men around for three generations!
