Nobody will ever love you

Malshapen is, of course, not a word. But for me, hung over in a pool of my own vomit on Chris Ayer’s couch in New York City in the summer of 2006, it absolutely was a word. I composed this song in less time than it takes to sing it, or at least I thought I did, but when you’re in that state, the whole notion of time sort of falls apart.

Anyway, the few people I’ve played this to on the piano confirm it’s one of the most fucked up songs they’ve ever heard. To achieve that, it needs to simply be itself. It should be sung plainly, in a calm and collected manner, in an effortless and airy tenor register.

I would love to find a pianist who would incorporate this into a cabaret set. Perhaps as a chaser to Poisoning Pigeons in the Park. If you are on the same spiritual wavelength as Tom Lehrer and have the right voice type, this song is for you.