1. |
Trailhead
00:40
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2. |
Dance Like a Boy
04:31
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Well he’s got you in raptures, getting gloucestered in the backyard
Smiling and dancing like a boy
Proclaim love in southpaw, beat it out on the back lawn
Wiling and dancing like a boy
Well you once had a true love but not anymore
You gave your heart gladly like never before
But now he won’t have you he says that you’re through
Well thats alright my darling thats alright by you
Spied the moment that you gave up, you were down out on your luck
Crying and dancing like a boy
Proclaim love like an outlaw, out on this encore
Wiling and dancing like a boy
Well he wrote you a letter, says he’s found a new girl
You’ll dance at their wedding, parade, sing, unfurl
You’ll drink to the bride-groom, as if you don’t care
And if you don’t get home you’ll sleep on the stairs
Because my paradise keeps me going
And the wind in the wires keep showing that
In all that I want and all that I do
I’m better off without you
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3. |
Great British Dreamtime
03:40
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A sad stork hits The North once more
Spun out from the core all breathless and sore
Once flayed in the streets one can never retreat
Set controls for the rine of the British Summertime
A mad stork hits the ward once more
Head shaved for keepsakes
Honourable L-plates
‘Where on earth have you been?’
I’ve been jonesing like a fiend
All terrible seen for another slice of amitriptyline
They say rep for the code but whats a nomad to do?
0121 354 01902?
I got birth marks I ain’t even found yet
Ain’t even been round yet
Ain’t even pondered the shape of beat to come in your town yet
I want to be the boy with no beard, shirt or shoes
Who rides out to meet the Hellfyre crew
And thats true
My younger self once told me, once spoke in a dream
‘You’re as lost as I am clung on isms and ists
I might be frightened and bored but I’m more so in your midst’
I fire back to say I know where my home is
I don’t need to be hid
I’m an Asexual Odinist and you’re just a lonely kid
So a glad stork hits the floor once more
Trounced up and down right left and around
I’m struggling to tie my bolo down
I give up, I give up on it
But a man at the bar stumbles up just to say
‘Make the most of these days boy they’re the best you’ll ever see’
..ok
But when you’re fraught with discrepancy
Bout familial dependency no-one wants rhymes bout millennial ascendancy
I give up, I give up on it
So a sad stork hits The North once more
Return to the core, lore on land, land on lore
The greatest feat I ever saw was sights on the rine
Of the Great British Dreamtime
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4. |
Glymur
03:19
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I woke early that day. The sun was up because it never set.
My room led out onto a cramped spit and spiral staircase that traced the north face of the house down.
I saw few guests around, and with dirty acrylics daubed ‘North Route 1’ on the carcass of an empty cardboard beer case.
The plan was to get out from Reykjavík for the day and find Glymur.
My approach to hitching remains the same. Straight road and hair down. So drivers think you’re a girl.
The first were a keeno Italian family. A weathered lady, her son and his little boy.
Chatty and bright, I tapped Hveragerði on their rudimentary map. Told them to take a diversion on their way back.
They dropped me at the whale fjord intersection. Many tourists skip it so I waited a while for the next lift.
The driver was Icelandic, dropping back a borrowed van after a Reykjavík wedding.
He didn’t take me far.
So few cars, I began to get a little stressed. Pacing east, barley fields reminded me of the continent, not a volcanic rock in the north atlantic.
A roaring behind me, and over the crest came the largest offroader I’d ever seen. Climbing aboard the vehicle borrowed, we followed the road all the way to Glymur.
You’d never know the turn for what it led to. No room or reason for tourbuses or the bored.
There were a lot of midges though, scrambling down the dirt path a kind local picked me up for the last km. Said he’d lived here his whole life.
At the trailhead I couldn’t spy the fall, just undergrowth and walls of lupin. Until caves through red rock lead me down a cliff.
I came to a river, muddy and wild. A log across served as my only possible route.
Once over I climbed and scurried up, higher and higher to the firmaments above, the sky a common treasury for all, each step uncovering more and more of Glymur’s infinite fall
I haven’t had much happier days than that. No beard, shirt or shoes at the top, wading through the boundless water. The day I saw Glymur infinite and free.
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5. |
B'Møre
02:00
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(Tom Waits)
When you walk through the garden
You gotta watch your back
Well, I do beg your pardon
Walk the straight and narrow track
If you walk with Jesus
He's gonna save your soul
You gotta keep the devil
Way down in the hole
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6. |
Yr Arweinydd (Study #1)
02:33
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7. |
Jest
05:41
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Could you be? Could you be somebody?
Because I want you to be, oh I want you to be.
Could you be? Could you be somebody?
..and so the joke begins
The cacophonous snap! of 400 Stella cans
As the dervishes howl their bowels
And this chaotic dichotomy swallows the monotony
And some say
That Isra transpires in a state of Fitra
Surrounded by ways unpaved by disarray
But they’ve obviously never been out on a Tuesday
So I am the watcher, you did it too often
You made a gesture, a kinesics key
Oh can’t you see? You’re a liar
You’re a liar to me
..and so the joke distorts
Both misgivings coalesce
While we sit on our hands and listen to the shipping forecast
And force ontogeny to proclaim commodity
And I never wished to see
Steve Dahl’s pigeon virility team with a 4-to-the-floor mentality
But its happened
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8. |
Deathsloe
04:20
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We were caught in the deathsloe
We were caught on the way-
So you swing from the right side and then to the left and its
Bereaved, bereft, sunnied cement, oh I guess you know
The room sags as I enter a smile, walls fall away like you’re always on trial
A good way to spend a while
She said ‘be haunted my fellow and I’ll take care of the rest
With my bad gateway and foggy documents’
Let proceedings commence
So I swing from the right side and then to the left and its
Chaos - bereaved and bereft
We were caught in the deathsloe
We were caught on the way-
So you get out to Salop for a day or so and
Hash out your woes down Ebenezer Row
With my cunt crossed boss and your aunt’s spin teacher in tow
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9. |
We Are Evil
03:15
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Turn me around, cause its impossible to go on like this
You couldn’t honestly know how little you mean to me
You couldn’t possibly see through the cloak of my dignity
But I’ve never spilt blue on my collar
So I just scream and holler
We are evil (know what you say)
We are evil (not today)
We are evil (oh to be found)
We are evil just turn me around
Cause its impossible to go on like this
Gazing back through the pines
I see where crooked rooftops bide
While soft, sunken sheaths of meat
They fall and they gather round my feet
I throw myself further into the throng
The cuckoos call a coronation song
I whistle a droning note along and cry
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10. |
Out to Salop
00:27
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11. |
Country Son
04:35
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Stare down traffic manic laughing I’m so happy for now
Wherever you are or wherever you sound
I’ve found you
I was heaving, hollering, wheeling, screaming so
You were sealing, breathing, healing out on your own
Could I give some more? I should give some more
I should bang on your door
Travel backwards into sadness I’m so shocked to find you
Sealing, breathing, healing out on your own while I try to stave off all my woes
As I give some more I should give some more
I should bang on your door
Built on my laptop twice with no shame
8 years bruised, blued through but thats ok
Lizards in the sink hung on a brink let you know
Get out to Salop just two towns left to go
Should I give some more? I will give some more
I will bang on your door
Cause I got less blues to believe in
Got more chance of freedom
Got more friends to be seen with
Got less calls to get lean with
Got more time to receive with
Got less hours on a mean shift
Got one chance to get it done
I am a country son
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12. |
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Penda took the Severn Valley
But I’ll need more to make me happy
Bay of Biscay to the Mercian Way
Old Knobbley to Oswestry
So I raise up a Nithing Pole
Take heed, take heart, take soul
What we used to be, what we’re going to be,
So its reap and sow, and we heave and we ho and we see
The tree of melancholy hidden by reeds
So its reap and sow, and we heave and ho and we reap
And we leap, and we grow
But the flame still flickers in the fen
The Flame Still Flickers In The Fen
Sing out you mongrels
Bring out your strange
They’ll never contain what they can’t rearrange
There’s never a right way
And there’s never a wrong
Just whats held by Salopian strong
So the fen to the forest
The burbs to the trap
Burn Plato burn Pablo
From the land they attack
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A Paranoid King Shrewsbury, UK
Rural Rock. Salop born, Bristol based.
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Steppin' Out
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