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Tour Jacket With Detachable Sleeves chords

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Strumming
There is no strumming pattern for this song yet. and get +5 IQ
[Verse 1]
(Talking)

F
  Her mother had never really wanted us to go in the first place, 
F
But Helen convinced her that she was worrying needlessly. 
F
After all, it’s not as if it was an actual nightclub we were going to, 
F
Where the debauched minions of Baal and other basement idols would gyrate obscenely around us, 
F
Apeing our innocence and howling their approval at our terrifying predicament. 
F
On the contrary, we were going to the Stipe Records Showcase at the local polytechnic, 
F
And we were going to have ourselves a beautiful evening.


[Verse 2]
(Talking)

F
Everything was in order, we timed the last bus, and it 
F
Coincided superbly with the last band finishing their set, 
F
Allowing for an estimated three-song encore. 
F
Although I turned Helen on to the alternative music scene some two years back, 
F
She still insisted on wearing a black satin tour jacket with detachable sleeves 
F
That she’d bought at a Dogs d’Amour concert, which she went to with her friend Jackie, 
F
Who was unstable. I would rib her mercilessly about it. 
F
But one night, after I’d possibly ridden my luck a little too far, she stamped down her foot, 
F
Which I thought was brilliant, because it reminded me of Talulah Gosh, 
F
And said: “Listen, if I’m going to be an indie kid, then I’ll be independent in my choice of clothes, 
F
Thank you very much.” Wow, what a girl!


[Verse 3]
(Talking)

C
  And so it was that we set off for the concert, both smelling of that 
C
Short-lived yet much-maligned unisex perfume, Travis, by Cartel (“for those who like their trade rough”). 
C
By the time we arrived, the hall was already quite full, 
C
So I hurried to the bar while Helen went off to find a good vantage point. 
C
Eight-fifteen, and with she drinking cider, and me there beside her, 
C
The first band came on. “Oh no”, I shrieked, “real horrorshow”. 
C
I was going through my Clockwork Orange phase. Surely not? 
C
It seemed that every band that was performing were one of those tribute bands, 
C
And first up was ELP. H-ELP more like. “Welcome back my friends, to the show that never ends. 
C
It goes on for at least two hours because we’ve got a brand new Moog.”


[Verse 4]
(Talking)

C
I’ve died and gone to hell, and then I’ve fallen through a trapdoor and landed on the planet Progrock. 
C
And then the applauding Ents Sec introduces the next act. 
C
Jeez! (That’s journalese) …PFM! They didn’t really play many songs, 
C
Just got unnecessarily passionate about the Azzurri and how Rossi was framed, 
C
and how his subsequent hat-trick against the Brazilians was a big F-off to the authorities. 
C
“Fair enough”, I thought, “but perhaps no need for the language.”
C
After the Identical Cocteau Twins, came the final act, 
C
I Can’t Believe It’s Not Focus. Following a commendable stab at Sylvia, 
C
Helen shouted to the guitarist: “Are you knackered, man?” To which he replied: “No, I’m Jan Akkerman”.


[Verse 5]
(Talking)

F
  And so the stark lights of the hall came on, and we filtered out into the night, 
F
Saying our goodbyes to the gang, who in turn went their separate ways, 
F
To waiting dads in brown Audis, or some to the college minibus, driven by Bob, 
F
Who didn’t go our way. I then suddenly realised that because the Dutch clones only had two songs, 
F
The concert had finished a little early, and so we could get the 71, 
F
Which was a lot quicker and didn’t skirt the council estate. 
F
It also gave us time to get some chips. 


[Verse 6]
(Talking)

C
  The bus approached, and I noticed that it was a double-decker. 
C
As we boarded, I immediately felt a little uneasy, as the driver didn’t seem to know the 
C
Required fare for our intended destination. 
C
As we made our way to the upper deck front seat, I felt the vehicle swing round to the left, 
C
As if to go along Bridge Street. “He really doesn’t know the route”, I thought, with increasing alarm. 
C
“Better go downstairs and help him out. 
C
Wait a minute. Bridge Street? The overhead railway Bridge Street? 
C
Oh my God – HELLENNNNNNNNNN…”


[Verse 7]
(Talking)

F
  Ten years on, and here I am on the bus we should have got. 
F
And yes, you guessed it, I’m the driver. Therapy, they call it. 
C
  And every year, on the anniversary of that night, she floats on board, 
C
Takes the seat behind me. She doesn’t pay of course, 
C
But she is keen to make sure we don’t go down Bridge Street. 
C
She finally alights at the cemetery, and every year I follow until I reach her grave, 
C
Where as always, there’s no sign of Helen, but draped over the headstone…


[Chorus]

F                Bb
 Is a black tour jacket
F                 Bb
 Satin black tour jacket
F                   Bb
 Helen’s black tour jacket
C                F
 With detachable sleeves
C                F
 With detachable sleeves


[Outro]

                  C                       F
(Satin black tour jacket) with detachable sleeves
                  C                       F
(Satin black tour jacket) with detachable sleeves
                  C                       F
(Satin black tour jacket) with detachable sleeves
                  C                       F
(Satin black tour jacket) with detachable sleeves
                  C                       F
(Satin black tour jacket) with detachable sleeves
                  C                       F
(Satin black tour jacket) with detachable sleeves
                  C                       F
(Satin black tour jacket) with detachable sleeves
                  C                       F
(Satin black tour jacket) with detachable sleeves
                  C       F
(Satin black tour jacket)

            
            
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