black midi – The Race Is About To Begin

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English rock band from London, formed in 2017 by Geordie Greep, Cameron Picton, Matt Kwasniewski-Kelvin and Morgan Simpson, best known as black midi, released an impressive song titled “The Race Is About To Begin“. After long anticipation, Mixloaded made it available for free streaming and mp3 download.

black midi, has been on top of their game for so long, pushing to the top, and it shows on this track (The Race Is About To Begin).

“The Race Is About to Begin” is a song detailing Tristan Bongo’s entanglement with horse racing after leaving the army (Tristan Bongo is from track 4, “Welcome to Hell”).

The first section of the song describes the people in the stadium and their lives, and the second section of the song describes Tristan Bongo going looney, as he descends into his gambling addiction.

He gets addicted to betting on the races, and stays there for 30 years (whether literally or figuratively, can’t be said for certain). As he spirals into his, he abandons everything of meaning in his life, and gives up. In the end, though, he justifies it.

This classic entry is taken from Black midi’s new studio album titled “Hellfire (2022)”. However, the sweet melody was released on July 15, 2022. Produced By Marta Salogni and Written By Morgan Simpson, Cameron Picton & Geordie Greep.

The song is very catchy and will quickly grab your attention. As a music lover, The Sweet Melody is available here for free and fast download.

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black midi – The Race Is About To Begin Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Idiots are infinite
And thinking men are numbered
Don’t kid yourself
This isn’t news

[Verse 2]
Let’s start with Tristan Bongo, alone in the race
Conscription calling his name
One more night of freedom
And an heiress high up atop the stands

[Verse 3]
And the lines are open
That’s Lucky Star, Eye Sore, Doctor Murphy, Sun Tzu, The Clap, Mr. Winner, Spot, Wallace, Mrs. Gonorrhoea, Perfect P, Deadman Walking, and The Company Favourite
A son hands dad’s hard earned cash to the clerk
And she laughs at the gall of the small guido lips
“Put it all on Spot, the kid’s already won”
John-Tiles smeared with last nights beer
Reflect vomiting Chris who dreams his dream is near
In the form of Mrs. Gonorrhea

[Verse 4]
Reporter reporting the state of affairs
Inwardly asks of his prime time hair
Why it can’t quite rival the manes on these mares
The smoothness can’t compare
The gleaming appliances attract attention
The raffle prizes too many to mention
Displayed all over the stadium entrance

[Verse 5]
Hypodermic needles
Hidden under a coat sleeves
Of sweaty, wise-guy, money-earning men
In search of the horse to apprehend

[Verse 6]
The race is about to begin
The race is about to begin

[Verse 7]
Blondie locked in 4 Eyes’ arms
Squirming like a dying fish
That’s the last I can recall

[Verse 8]
The race was ran
Someone lost, someone won
I came and I stayed and the same ever since
The freaks of the wilderness, open in spring
The time before time was the time to sing
Unidentified song surging through the brush
Transcription futile, let alone the rush
You miss when hunched and scribbling notes
Here no journalism is ever in Vogue
Despite the attempts of doctors and saints
None have recorded its heavenly grace
But I stayed, and stayed, and stayed
That race was ran thirty years back
And each day since the same
Peel back the witness of a million catastrophes
To see the spotty remnants each has left
I forget in which cups I’ve pissed
From which I can still drink
Tonight it’s so cold my feet are shrinking
Groping around for the sides of my boot
It’s no night for the blind
With all these sirens I envy the deaf mutes
Some killer on the loose again
Some idiot at large
Some Chinese moose again
An excuse for the sarge
No sirens all silent
The log cabin is silent
No killer either
No creeks in the floor
Log cabin, what cabin?
A shack’s all I have
Yes, my cubbyhole’s stuffed with skeletons
But my neighbours are stuffed with anthrax
Where does that leave us?
I came thirty years back
From Salafessien, via South Schlagenheim
To Sunterum and Sunterime
The late Sun Sugar’s home town
Buried not far from here
My only friend
Neighbor, what neighbor?
My shack is all alone
This pen, changing lines
One line at a time
Blindness? What blindness? Sweet blindness
A little laughter, a little silence
A little magic, a little kindness
A little all over me, yes, me
The first, the last, the everything
No trace of anything
No sin, no life, no fun, no time, no any-fucking-thing
No one, no yes, no house, no shack, no A, no B, no C, no et cetera
No one, no two, no et cetera
No school, no life, no work, no time, no book, no art, no point, no truth, no use, no friend
No know, no knot, no hole, no birth, no end, no real, no fake
No king of this useless nameless non-land
No end to this nothing nonsense non-song
No day set for my saviors arrival, to carry me far
Across green waters, above the sky or below the depths
Among the white cloud or red steppe
Or to fly forever in-between ends
Or in-between in-betweens
Or in-between no-between
Or no nothing, no saviour, no journey, no end
A thousand years of no nothing hiding from nothing
No reason to hide sins or reason not to sin
No reason to pretend
No reason to pretend there is not no reason
Oh, yes
Blondie ran on the track
4 Eyes got stuck in the rail
The reporter was caught getting sweaty in the stable
Blondie gone, 4 Eyes gone, Guidos gone, Clerk gone, Chris gone
Tristan Bongo the man who never left
Tristan Bongo never left
Still here
I stayed

[Verse 9]
The old clown can be a martyr
And the whore can be an angel
The hack becomes a master
The crass becomes divine
The infinite, infinitesimal
And all sins irrepressible
No use digging holes to hide
The rupture comes and leaves no stone unturned
So don’t wish for anything
The clown can be a martyr
The whore can be an angel
The hack becomes a master
The crass becomes divine
The infinite, infinitesimal
All sins irrepressible.

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