Swell Maps - Vertical Slum Chords & Tabs


Vertical Slum Chords & Tabs

Swell Maps Chords & Tabs

Version: 2 Type: Chords

Vertical Slum Chords

#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------#
#This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the #
#song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. #
SWELL MAPS - "Vertical Slum"

sent by: lisa202@aol.com

This is a simple little one-minute postpunk classic from Swell Maps, a
late-'70s band of teenage jokers who created a lot of visionary dissonant
noise and a few great songs. Thurston Moore and Pavement claim them as a big
influence, and if you like Wire's "Pink Flag" album, you'll probably like "A
Trip to Marineville," the 1979 album I took "Vertical Slum" from.

Anyway, this song just has one chord pattern, which is played once by itself
at the song's beginning, then once again with drums and bass, then repeated
six more times under the vocals. No chorus, those crazy kids!
[ Tab from: https://www.guitartabs.cc/tabs/s/swell_maps/vertical_slum_crd_ver_2.html ]
Here's the pattern. All the following are standard barre chords:
E  //  (12th fret)
B  //  (7th)
E  //   (12th)
C  //   (8th)
E  //   (12th)
B  //   (7th)
A  ////   (5th)
E   /      (open)

(Actually, the rhythm varies a little from chord to chord, and from bar to
bar - it should all make sense if you hear the song. Sorry for my lack of
preciseness, but this is just one of those easy thrash-it-in-a-garage type of

Got a Rolls Royce
It's driving me mad
I never thought about it

Got a space
Between my eyes
I never knew about it

No more ways
To excavate you
There's no two ways about it

I think that's all
There is to say
Nothing more ... about it ...

The weather! The leather!
The weather! The leather!
The weather! The leather!
That's it! Enjoy.  This is my first post -- I'll try something more complex
next time.

"It's okay that you haven't heard of us - we're just a Swell Maps ripoff." -
Bob Nastanovich of Pavement. (Quoted at 2 a.m. one morning in June 1992, to a
guy sitting on a porch in my old college town of Columbia, Mo.)