Rhythm and Blues Country Rock with 21st. century lyrics

6 MP3 Songs in this album (18:33) !
Related styles: Rock: Country-Rock, Blues: Country Blues, Mood: Weird

People who are interested in Bob Dylan The Band Tom Waits should consider this download.


Details:
These songs were first written as poems. They come from a series entitled âOh Wow, Oh Shitâ, which were recorded in 2000, spoken by me and set to music by Harold Burgon. Until then, my experience as a singer had been as a bass in a âsacred-musicâ âpolyphonic choirâ and in opera. Since that date, I was led gloriously astray by singing in a Gospel Choir (Gospel Molotov) and country-rock blue-grass band (Rank Strangers), culminating in a new project to sing the poems, which were transformed into songs by Harold, using a completely distinct musical approach to that adopted for âOh Wow Oh Shitâ. We recorded them in acoustic and electric versions. Why? Why not? Songs so good I sang them twice.

DEAD
Dead is to attain extreme age indeed...,
Dead is to attain extreme age indeed...
As old as we get,
that happy birthday will graze a tombstone face.
Weâre as young as the span we have from now to not to be.
The years we possess will predict in mass,
while indifferent machines crash
unlike beginnings to simultaneous ends.
Weâre equally young if missiles sail, if missiles sail tonight.
Just-right eggs, watched clocks, opened gates, school bell,
guests to come, last calls, launch counts, whenâs it due?
Weâre estimate prone in the normal way,
the time of our lives is how much to go.
Dead, so impossibly long, who cares when?
I care dreadfully, bending words against actuarial evidence,
just to say,
weâre only as old as weâve got to go, as we have got to go,
weâre only as old as weâve got to go, as we have got to go.

BURIED
Rodents would spread us furthest, droppings for local beans.
Early birds may get some mucky bits, but fungi and mould
just droop a round, fungi and mould just droop around,
droop around.
Tombed beings rot the air, while ashes are manure, no more,
could feed a plant or two and seeds to be pecked and pooped
elsewhere.
Ash to ash, where am I ash?
Dust to dust, when am I dust?
I feel more like mud, more like mud, I feel more like mud.
Mush to mush, slush to slush, you to land, me to sea,
seeped in, bloating, soaked and scuttled off sideways,
or nibbled away onwards through currents to oceans.
Blood to flood, bone to foam, flesh to fish, borne to roam.
I feel in peace by the sea, I feel a peace by the sea,
where mortal grumblings subsume to the moving immensity
All right, allâs right, allâs right.

DARKNESS COMPREHENDS LIGHT
Digitally speaking, what canât we say,
hear or see? Life as an electric stream.
The world in swirling dots put on display,
since on and off became such a work team.
Processes are plotted, connections caught
at speeds to challenge the value of time,
from darkness to light, from something to naught.
Cellular moments gain reason and rhyme,
we climb round spiralling towers of genes,
flesh made words out of father and mother.
Lifeâs miracles, molecular routines,
music, some numbers we wave each other.
And if you and I, when stated unbound
and if you and I, when stated unbound
formed endless varieties, formed endless varieties,
endless varieties of light and sound,
and sound, and sound.