I didn’t realize The Real Tuesday Weld‘s album, I, Lucifer, was a soundtrack to a novel. I discovered this while looking up the spoken words to the short introductory track, “It’s a Dirty Job But Somebody’s Got To Do It.”
I never really wanted this job…
But look at it from my point of view
You know the routine
You’ve broken up
CDs divvied and boxed
Cuddly toy drawn and quartered
Doesn’t matter that I felt lousy
Doesn’t matter that I realised I might have been a tad hasty
Doesn’t matter that I would have been willing to turn over a new leaf
You don’t rise again
Some sources say “lazy” instead of “lousy,” but finding the book in Google Books helped clarify things:
I never really wanted this job. (As all dictators whine.) Trouble was, when we found ourselves in Hell everyone looked at me. (How to describe Hell? Disembowelled landscape busy with suffering incessant heat, permanent scarlet twilight, a swirling snowfall of ash, the stink of pain and the din of… if only. Hell is two thing: the absence of God and the presence of time. Infinite variations on that theme. Doesn’t sound so bad, does it? Well, trust me.)
I didn’t want the job — the job, that is, of spending all that would remain of time working against God, the job of personifying evil — but look at it from my point of view: as far as Himself’s concerned it’s over between us. No conciliatory cappuccinos under the fat waiter’s benevolent presidency. No Relate. No saw this and thought of you, Love, Lucifer cards. You know the routine. You’ve Broken Up, yes? Locks changed, CDs divvied and boxed, ring returned, cuddly toy drawn and quartered?
Doesn’t matter that I felt lousy. Doesn’t matter that I realised I might have been a tad hasty. Doesn’t matter that I would have been willing (we all would) to turn over a new leaf. Doesn’t matter. You’re an angel, you fall, you don’t rise again, the end.
“Dirty Job” segues seamlessly into “Bathtime in Clerkenwell,” making this one of my favorite album openers ever.