Four Fifteen​-​E (1993)

by Dandruff!!

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Our sincerest thanks go out to Josh Hayer of TopHole Records and Marco Roelofs of Windmill Records, for allowing us to make these two albums available for download.

Dandruff!! lived from 1991 to 1998
bandmembers were (in order of appearance):

Mark Tilstra - guitar & vocals

Jan Heddema - (solo) guitar, left in 1995

Edwin Pot - bass

Peter Millenaar - bass (substitute during 1992, when Edwin broke his thumb)

Mark Regeling - drums

Tuppus - vocals

John Krol - (solo)guitar 1996 to 1998


released May 22, 1993

© 1993 Dandruff!! / TopHole records VIA / EANVP
TopHole 9940182
Recorded, mixed and produced by Tom Holkenborg (Junkie XL) at Boer Jelke Haima's studio Waikiki, Kielwindeweer, Groningen, The Netherlands, march 1993


all rights reserved



Dandruff!! Groningen, Netherlands

Dandruff! has stopped in 1998.
Check out our bio at the Poparchief Groningen.

Both Marks have stopped making music; John and Tuppus went on to start De Fuckups, Edwin records and produces their records, on Jan's old equipment.

Jan became the best producer and sound engineer Groningen ever had, but his illness got the better of him and he took his life in 2002. We all still miss him.
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Track Name: I'm Not Down
- a song about teenage depression, lyrics by Jan

I'm not feeling quite OK; stay away
I just wanna do something else, somewhere else, someplace else
If you think you can fool me now, you make me frown
'cause I'm not down.

You can live all your ordinary lives,
growing fat and feeling lonely
You can play with your rubber friends,
feel no pain and moving slowly,
but I'm not down.

Look into the mirror, who do you see? It's a mystery.
Goes to work and then he takes his fee. Let it be, let him be.
I won't live in your small town, it makes me down.
But I'm not down.

No I'm not down.

Time is running out and I'm trying to stop the movement of the clock
The earth rotates and humanity is searching for a way to knock.
Track Name: Vegebattle
a song about differing tastes in tv shows, lyrics by Tuppus

Remote control in my sweaty hands
I'm turning up the volume as a U.F.O. Lands
With lasers blasting to and fro,
my baby changes channels to the Oprah Winfrey show

We can't seem to agree on what we want to see on TV
We're always fighting, she's always nagging,
she's always argueing with me.

The sheriff's posse just found the crook,
(and I know there'll be a shoot-out 'cause I just read the book)
as all hell broke loose and the bullets soared,
my baby starts to whine and says 'I'm getting bored'

Crescendo violins,
a soft-focus shot; Fred is kissing Ginger
and she's screaming OMG!
I don't want to watch this so I say:
Hey, I want to watch Schwarzenegger blowing aliens away!
Track Name: John Drinks Decaf
A song about coffee, milk, and sugar. lyrics by Mark Tilstra

If you would have asked, if we'd all like to have some tea
we would have said:
Oh yeah, we sure would like a cup of coffee, when you're asking!
Mark wants black, Pot and Mark want black, but they both want sugar in it.
John drinks decaf, and I want milk and sugar.
Oh yeah, we all would like some coffee!
And we all want cookies. We want loads of cookies!
We want cookies for everyone!

If you would have asked, if we'd all like to have some tea
we would have said:
Mark wants black, Pot and Mark want black, but they both want sugar in it.
Now where's the milk, and where's the sugar?
And where's the spoon to stir it?
Oh yeah, we all would like some coffee!
Now where's that spoon? Where's the spoon to stir it?
'cause our coffee is getting cold

so goddamn cold now.

Give me coffee, give me sugar, give me a spoon to stir it. (John drinks decaf)
Right now.
Track Name: Home Sweet Home

An interior-decoration masterclass, featuring Jackson Pollock; lyrics by Tuppus

The fat from the pizza box drips upon the carpet
but I ain't gonna clean it. No way.
The stench of dirty socks is so penetratingly sharp
it almost takes your breath away

I call it home; you may call it nauseating dirt
I call it home; to you that might seem absurd
I call it home; I ain't no fucking house-cleaning nerd
I call it home, sweet home.

Never a dull moment with cooties all around,
it looks like Jackson Pollock did a painting on the ground!

A furry kind of mould is growing on the walls,
just a natural phenomenon to me.
Drainage clogged by hairballs, and no water from the faucets,
but hey; I don't want to shower anyway.

Not a single ray of light has ever penetrated my windows yet;
I don't need a lamp, I'll get my lighting from my TV-set.
Track Name: 2nd Chance

lyrics by Mark Tilstra about the opinion his Social Security coach has on him.

“You can't have a second chance, 'cause you're lazy and you're dumb
and you don't want to work for anybody but yourself.
You can't have a second chance, 'cause you're disobedient,
and above all; you're a stupid blubber-head”

Get off my back!
Go and get fucked, I don't want to get a job;
try and trick somebody else.
Choke in it and shove it up your ass.

Yes, it may be right that I refuse to work,
but then again; I can write songs and play them anywhere.
Yes, it may be right that I'm a stupid blubber-head,
but this is what I like, and I'm planning to go on.

I get my money from the state, so I won't come too late at my work
where I sing, sing! Sing!
They make it possible for me to travel around the world;
thanks to the dole I might just get my second chance.

Relevant update (Dutch!):
Track Name: Thirtyseven
ƚƚƚƚ ƚƚƚƚ ƚƚƚƚ ƚƚƚƚ ƚƚƚƚ ƚƚƚƚ ƚƚƚƚ II – DANDRUFF!!

paranoid lyrics by Mark Tilstra

There's something wrong with this number, 37
I don't know what it is, so I will have to find out.
It gives me the shivers and it really makes me scared;
Will I die? Will I live? Will I drink? I will die!

I don't know what has come over me,
what's wrong with 37?
On my digital clock, it's always 37
It's not my lucky number, and it stays 37, whenever I watch.

I will probably get drunk on my 37th anniversary
I will probably get killed on my 37th anniversary
Track Name: Puzzlehead
About the intensity of sitting in a chair, making a crossword puzzle and watching the neighbours. Lyrics by Mark T.

I'm looking out of the window because I'm down and depressed
I watch the neighbours gossiping about the normal things,
that happen in a normal street, where normal people live.
I can hear a kettle whistling, and they all quickly rush inside

Puzzlehead, puzzlehead,
puzzlehead's gone mad.
The neighbourhood is watching him.

Puzzlehead, puzzlehead,
puzzlehead's gone mad.
The neighbourhood is watching him.
Puzzlehead, puzzlehead,
puzzlehead's gone mad.
They saw him come back with an empty bag

I'm staring at my grocery list but I can't think of anything
I'm looking at a crossword puzzle and a bus is driving by
'A six-letter word that begins with a B'
Man, this shit is boring. I think I'll do my shopping now,
it looks like it stopped raining.

Neighbour # 17 is washing his car;
he does that every week but it never gets dirty
Neighbour # 8 is walking his dog
he does that twice a day and the street gets dirty
Neighbour # 12 is looking out the window
telling # 4 what goes on at # 30
Neighbour # 12 is mad at # 10
he tells him to get fucked and he flips him the bird
Track Name: The Fridge
A song in which no one gives a shit about anything. Lyrics by Mark Tilstra

So far, 1993 hasn't exactly been a very good year
The whole wide world is living in fear
A new world war is getting near
and my girlfriend doesn't know what to wear.

No one gives a damn about the war in Eastern Bosnia
As long as their fridges are loaded, and the television is on.

Iraqi scuds? We're eating peanuts.
Fascism is an international disease
Social unrest, empty nest,
we'll never know how apartheid feels

No one gives a damn about the hunger in the world
As long as their fridges are loaded, and the television is on.

It's in the fridge

To pacify our consiousness we give money to a television show
that is interupted by commercials about Ajax cleaning well
Hurry to the kitchen so you won't miss the end;
The end of the world live, on CNN...d
Track Name: Lucky Day
Happy happy joy joy lyrics by Mark Tilstra

When you're in doubt if you want to go out
listen to this and play it loud
Come on and celebrate, no matter how late
it more or less depends on what you ate, man

How many times do I have to repeat;
clap your hands and stomp your feet
Don't be a fool, play it by the pool
Ooweee baby! This song is so cool!

This is my lucky day!
We're gonna play and we're here to stay
I can't tell you how lucky I am
Wham! Bam! Fucking slam bam!

We're gonna party and have a cool time
Takes some pils and you'll feel fine
Singalong with us or take a hike.
Don't make a fuss when I spit in the mike.
Track Name: Marrowfats & Bacon
How the poor get into the fast lane, lyrics by Mark Tilstra

I have to go shopping
but I don't know what to buy;
Don't have a lot of money so it has to be cheap
I can't cook, it doesn't matter to me.
It really doesn't matter, it doesn't matter to me.

Marrowfats and bacon, onions and applesauce.
Food for the poor at your local store.

I'm standing in the 'ten items or less' line
Everybody's looking, but I don't mind.
I don't have a lot of money but I'm feeling fine;
standing all alone in the poor man's line
Track Name: Cat Song
Cats, mice and sleeping pills. Lyrics by Jan
Track Name: Contradictionary
About the joys and drawbacks of having a dick for brains Lyrics by Tuppus

The head wants beauty but the eye wants dirt,
the ears are going to listen if you want to get hurt
So the eye beholds beauty for the head to be seen,
and the head in return, thinks of something obscene

Upstairs, there's a dumber side that wants to think again
sunk into reflections, paralyzed by prudence
Downstairs, there's a smarter side that wants to stink again
the only thing it needs is a horizontal slam dance

It's like: you scratch my back and I'll break yours
an open invitation to a tightly shut door.
Signs on either side are identical, and say
'Beware of the dog' and 'Welcome'

Upstairs, there's a darker side that wants to think again
embarassed by her actions, paralyzed by prudence
Downstairs, there's a brighter side that wants to stink again
the only thing it can do is a horizontal slam dance

Mind over manner, over thought, overdone
Chastity is stuck with a heart on.
Track Name: Allergy
A song about our shared interest for diseases and about how we were allergic to everything in and around Jelke's farmhouse where we recorded this song. Lyrics by Tuppus

They're talking about diseases on my TV-set
they have a full-page spread in a paper I read;
Everybody's sick, like John, Pot, the Marx and me

We can talk for hours about a nice whiplash, Johnny's flu, our latest rash
The Marx and me, the three of us have an allergy!

Talking 'bout diseases; it just feels so fine
like I'm in hell for the first time in my life.
Scratching, coughing, dying; it just feels so fine
like I'm in hell for the first time in my life.

Our studio's infested with a deadly disease
that makes you puke, itch, shit, burp, choke and sneeze
Watching us perform can give you leprosy
Recording at Waikiki can be so much fun
with a suffocating Mark, and our shit on the run
We all get boils and a rash, right here at Jelke's farm!
The lyrics are from the label at the back of a bottle of Distiller's Pride Bourbon

Distiller's Pride
In the opinion of those who
know real bourbon best, here
is quality. Properly distilled
from choice-grains and pure
limestone water under a time
endorsed formula. Properly
stored in fine oak coöperage,
sealed in glas at full maturity.
Here is a whiskey worthy
of its name.

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