1. |
The thorn in her finger
06:27
|
|||
|
He makes hard for the river,
for the shelter of the old willow tree.
He breathes harsh, he breathes shallow,
as he runs through the rain,
as the rain runs him through.
She's a slave to the weather
and the night shrouds the thorn from her eyes.
To it her paw she delivers:
her blood runs a river,
her howl sends a shiver.
Involuntarily,
he stops dead and rethinks his approach
and the fear makes him wonder
if it's the pan to the fire.
The jaws of the lion
are clenched in concentration
to avoid losing all of her cool.
But the thorn robs her' reason
and she gnashes at the night
and she shrieks at the shadows.
The night holds its secrets from him.
By not a star can he discover his way.
Till lightning strikes him lucky
and he spies out the sanctuary
and runs for its safety.
She approaches home herself now.
Curiosity awaits at its mouth
but the pain rules her mind now,
so that she fails to realise
the presence of the other,
who shudders at the horror
of the vision cast against his escape.
And as darkness re-engulfs him,
little could he wonder,
as he searches for his gods
that the true intent of her
could not be further from so natural an act
and she beckons and she whimpers
so that finally he sees it
and, gingerly approaching,
he plucks the thorn from her finger.
|
||||
2. |
Creature
05:26
|
|||
|
I only kind of half remember what we were talking about.
She seemed so warm and open. And me, well, I was me.
She told me I didn’t need a spacesuit, said, ‘babe, take off your hat’
but the thought of it just made me kind of nervous, considering all I’d heard.
On and on and on: wake late, hot sun, damp lungs,
dry dreams, bright skies, last drinks, a long walk home.
She said, ‘what I’m offering is not frightening and it’s not dangerous at all.
‘It’s exactly the same in all the worlds of angels, upsarahs and kings.’
And I thought, ‘well, I didn’t come this far to only get half-way away.’
I knew that I couldn’t leave yet. I knew I couldn’t leave her.
On and on and on: wake late, hot sun, damp lungs,
dry dreams, bright skies, last drinks, a long walk home.
‘Hey, Marvin! Are you still with us? None of what you’re saying’s making sense.
‘You need to get back inside there. 12 years would be a hell of a thing to waste.’
Of course, I heard and I ignored them; to waste this woman’s warmth would’ve been worse.
Hey, Silent Planet, don’t be so sceptical. And wish me luck.
On and on and on: wake late, hot sun, damp lungs,
dry dreams, bright skies, last drinks, a long walk home.
|
||||
3. |
Chat
00:42
|
|||
4. |
||||
|
When she's gone
turn the TV down a touch.
When she's gone
turn out all the lights
and sit alone here in the dark, if you please.
When she returns
there is a light that she is fond of in the hallway upstairs.
The cry of cicadas in the heat stitches you up
and I still don't believe what you said.
When she's gone
no more dry-eyed hiding your soul away upstairs.
Don't be alarmed
if you keep looking to the clock for some reprieve
from the drive-way's steep approach.
When she returns
there is a cup that she is fond of in the kitchen upstairs.
The cry of the door against its hinge stitches you up
and I still don't believe what you said.
When she's gone
you've no space to court the silence anymore.
It just kind of hangs there all around you
like the wisdom of great sages, whispering delicately in your ear.
When she returns
there is a book that she is fond of on the dresser by the door.
The cry of the fan against your skin stitches you up
and I still don't believe what you said.
|
||||
5. |
Long night, slow river
08:12
|
|||
|
Long night, darling, long night.
I'm no fighter, I'm not.
Cold hands and hot words will lay me down.
Old dreams with soft turns will lay me down.
Please don't lose her tonight, old friend.
Madness, darling, madness.
All eyes watching, all eyes.
Cold wind screaming don't lay me down.
Old town sleeping don't lay me out.
Please don't love her tonight, old friend.
|
||||
6. |
Chat
00:39
|
|||
7. |
Heather
08:44
|
|||
|
Cue sunrise, a new day, a pang of longing for something old
and where have you gone?
The gypsies have arrived with their dancing and their song
and where have you gone?
What new word have they brought with them, what new enchantment to share,
and where have you gone?
Will they all be as impressed as the rest of us with your little, golden fish
and where have you gone?
Cue sunset, an old day, a pang of longing for something new
and where have you gone?
The third-coming has arrived with its railroad of broken dreams
and where have you gone?
I see you there, flicking through your encyclopaedia, making words up as you go
and where have you gone?
Will they all be as impressed as the rest of us with your gold-leaf chamber pot
and where have you gone?
|
||||
8. |
Chat
00:52
|
|||
9. |
Lion
05:34
|
|||
|
When I heard you broke the Lion,
I walked slowly home, over the hills,
down to the valley, across the grass lands
to the door where, turning the key,
the grief struck me down.
When I thought about the Lion,
bound, broken and bleeding,
well, the grief struck me down
and my heart fell to the floor, weeping.
And I wonder, yes, I wonder,
how'd you break the Lion?
When word got out about the Lion,
the whole town was stood still in its tracks
staring sadly at their hands.
Each turned to the other but the other could see
that words were gone from the land.
Then a little boy came out from 'mongst the many
treading light upon the earth
wet with tears of disbelief and grief.
His hair shone bright like truth in the dark
and his lips, they moved so slowly as he said,
"I know, yes, I know
"how they broke the Lion.
"They drop by drop smuggled an ocean of grief into his lair,
"so slow, so subtle, neither he nor we noticed his mounting despair.
"The tears welled up within the walls of love built for his Pride
"so that everything dear to him held therein was soaked, sodden and ruined;
"everything dear to him was gone."
And I wonder, oh now I only wonder,
why break the Lion at all?
|
||||
10. |
Chat
00:47
|
|||
11. |
Howl
07:14
|
|||
|
Under the burning, bright, bastard moon he staggers and he sways.
Over the cane fields bathed in silver.
He flails and wheels and tumbles as though fending off a horde
but the beasts with which he's burdened disturb not a blade.
Under the burning moon, out under stars,
raging on solitude, all to his own.
The sky seems to be falling in on him
and the host calls out his name, howling out in glee.
Here in the burning light, shadows they play.
Walls of a fortress and here a charade.
As he counts his virtues on one hand he is secretly afraid
that a trumped up lion tamer may ruin his game.
Standing on solid ground, floating on air.
Truth is his witness but walked away.
The sky seems to be falling in on him
and the host calls out his name, howling out in glee.
Born of a broken line, bathed in blood.
Built of a privilege yet blaming his veins.
He bade them all take heed now, take heed of his tale,
but the mood turned when somebody asked him his name.
The sky seems to be falling in on him
and the host calls out his name, howling out in glee.
|
||||
Dirt Hand Melbourne, Australia
Arun Roberts just wanted to get away from the metronome. He took that desire, along with 8 players, 5 songs and 15 years of experience, into a living room and made the Dirt Hand EP. Songs off this first work would appear in a handful of independent films and had him playing alongside his heroes. Now Dirt Hand is back with a new, deeper concept and a ferocious, improv-based band process. ... more
If you like Dirt Hand, you may also like:
Castle In The Sky
by Alex Siegel
Alex Siegel makes light, gorgeous indie pop with cloudlike melodies & radiant instrumentation, presented in both studio & live versions.
go to album
House Show
by Grandaddy / Jason Lytle
Raw, wine-fueled recording of former Grandaddy frontman. Intimate versions of tracks, new and old.
go to album
A Fault In This Machine
by Murmur Tooth
Dark bedroom pop uses sounds ranging from the childlike to the industrial to conjure a dark, inward looking atmosphere.
go to album
Restless Guests
by Otis Jordan & Band
Swirling folk-psych improvisations from Glasgow's storied Green Door Studio by songwriter Otis Jordan and friends.
go to album
Live From Blackalachia
by Moses Sumney
featured on Bandcamp Radio Feb 1, 2022
go to album
Live at Secret Project Robot March 3, 2018
by Oneida
The raw and wiry sound of Oneida is perfectly captured on this NYC Taper recording with proceeds benefiting their recently injured drummer.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Aug 2, 2016
go to album
