TISM
TISM (an acronym of This Is Serious Mum) were a seven-piece anonymous alternative rock band from Melbourne, Australia. The group were formed on 30 December 1982 by vocalist/drummer Humphrey B. Flaubert, bassist/vocalist Jock Cheese and keyboardist/vocalist Eugene de la Hot Croix Bun, and enjoyed a large underground/independent following. Their third album Machiavelli and the Four Seasons reached the Australian national top 10 in 1995.
TISM were known for their hybrid of dance music and rock'n'roll, high-energy live shows and humorous lyrics. TISM's songs frequently satirised modern culture, celebrities and the entertainment industry, classic literature and art, current affairs, politics and sport. The titles of their songs were often wordplays created by juxtaposing pop culture references with more intellectual ones.
History
Early years
This Is Serious Mum's first concert was on 6 December 1983. The Get Fucked Concert at the Duncan McKinnon Athletics Reserve in the small suburb of Murrumbeena was considered a complete failure which caused the band to split up. They reformed in February 1984 and returned to their recordings, experimenting with dark ambient and industrial music, before returning to their rock style. They consider every subsequent performance a "re-union gig".
Podcasts:
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by TISM
Aussiemandias
by: TISMSome people hate the Muslims
Some people hate the gips;
Some people have no problem
Picking on the nips -
How would you like to know about
The cocks your mother sucked?
It's one great long brutal shout:
"You and your race, get fucked".
Understanding's fine, I grant ya,
But come on, let's be frank -
Got no time for other cultures
In the line at the autobank.
Inside us all there is a lout
When civilisation's crushed -
Time has come to let him out:
"You and your race, get fucked".
The Irish hate the Irish;
It's Arab versus Jew;
You're cactus if you're Kurdish,
And by Christ I'm sick of you.
There's bullets to be sprayed about,
There's grenades to be chucked;
There's two of us left, so watch out:
"You and your race, get fucked".
There's nothing more to race relations
Than a bit of the old push and shove;
No need at all for the United Nations
When we've got death behind the pub.
Black, white, yellow - we agree about
Why our hands are clutched -
We want to punch each other out:
"You and your race, get fucked".
Don't call me nigger, whitey.
Don't call me wing-nut, gippo.
Don't call me faggot, yobbo.
Don't call me rapist, leso.
Call me Harold, call me Earnest -
Just don't call me late for breakfast.