The beauty and ferocity of the North Cornish coast.  

With stunning lead vocals by Amanda Sanderson.

Listen to Amanda's great album on Bandcamp, 'Spirits Of The Witchwood'
amandasanderson.bandcamp.com/album/spir…-witchwood

St Enodoc

Shimmering shallow sands reflect the sculptured skies
Mirrored moments mask the monumental storrs
Fresh gusts rock the steady metered gait
A hurried pace to beat the tidal time

Over peninsular then climb the weaving steps
Clamber over to handpick the secret path
Cross the grassy landing as the next
Bay reveals its face the livid sudden shine

As Enodoc herself would say, it takes more than sinking dunes to make a saint.

The salty foam projects over our heads away
Mixing with the farms beyond the dry stone walls
While before the ghosts of grey approached
Now the sun scintillates under the frame

There is no map needed here
Just keep the sea to the right
Just don’t lose sight

The ruined lighthouse on the top comes into view 
This phantom figure hails the battleship behind
Draws toward us and with brooding threat
How we anticipate the pricking strikes of rain

Guest: the classical guitar and electric guitar solo on this song were played by Steve Pumphrey.

Saint Enodoc

Starring the wonderful Amanda Sanderson on lead vocals.  Check out Amamda's songs here: https://soundcloud.com/phoebeelena

A New Way to Pass the Time

We used to stay together – by being apart
Avoiding one another – we got it down to an art
Now the next wave – is about to begin
So the Chief of Police – says we gotta stay in

The butcher will deliver to the door
No need to venture to the store
Even Hollywood on demand
Can’t fill the hours we have to hand
So oh oh we gotta find a new way to pass the time

So we wonder how to devour the time
Without committing heinous crime
Pluck teeth from the tiger’s jaw?
We must not step outside the law

The world is getting better – it’s good to be free
Avoiding one another – can be done easily
The Chief of Police – says we can do what we like
But the gym and the bar – they can go take a hike

The butcher still delivers to the door
No need to venture to the store
Even Hollywood on demand
Won’t fill the hours we have to hand
No – oh - oh ‘cos we found a new way to pass the time

With Steve guesting on lead guitar

A New Way To Pass The Time

With wonderful lead vocal by Amanda Sanderson.  Do check out Amanda's songs here: https://soundcloud.com/phoebeelena

Other guests:
John Romer: Bass
Steve Pumphrey: Voice Box guitar and guitar solo

Nothing Makes Sense

There is a land where nothing makes sense
Hunger is sent away
Malaria’s gone to stay
And pigs fly every day
But nothing makes sense
And you will smile and walk a mile with me.  Now nothing makes sense.

And in this land where nothing makes sense
Kind is the new frontier
No one lives in fear
Water is clean and clear
No poison in the atmosphere
The World’s got its *rse in gear!
Nothing makes sense
And you and I will pioneer the dream.   So nothing makes sense.

Without a frown, we’ll hand me down
And sail the pea-green boat
This Bandersnatch and Jumbly Girl
Regale the season’s finest anecdote

Where is this land where nothing makes sense?
Learning for all is free
You can be who you want to be
Marjorie takes the knee!
But nothing makes sense
And you will smile and walk a mile with me.  Nothing makes sense.

Nothing Makes Sense

With the wonderful SuZanne Ledwith on all vocals.  Check out SuZanne's amazing songs at www.korima.net.

Copperfield has all-too-vivid recollection of the terrifying storm at Yarmouth and the tragic end to a near-to-shore rescue attempt.

As Clearly As I See

As clearly as I see what happened then
Before me now, it happens again

Greet the faces, scenes and figures in the fire
The howl and the roar rattling windows, pews and doors
Sheets of lead ripped clean from the high church spire
The dark invests the storm with terror in new forms

Fearful of falling stacks, the showered salt rains down
Streets strewn with sand dunes; trees torn from the ground
The tremendous sea in the grip of the blinding crown
High watery walls whip and engulf this shattered town

As clearly as I see
It happens again

The ship’s bell rang on deck; she rose with two men gone
He made toward the wreck, striving valiantly and strong
They drew him to the shore and tried by all means and skills
So shaken to the core, a generous and meek heart stilled

Guest player: Steve Pumphrey - guitar solo

Artwork: adapted from photos taken and shared at "Delight" delightexhibit.com

As Clearly As I See

New mix for 2025.  For more Suzanne Ledwith - including songs not released on Soundcloud - go to www.korima.net.

The Gift

Please don’t despair
There are darker things in this world that could take you there
When daylight breaks across the lawn
And you breathe the pristine, scented dawn
You’ll know we care
Reach out your hand and we’ll be there

Please don’t be low
There are better places in this world you know that you can go
Then the moon lights up the path ahead
And the Jasmine blossoms fill your head
You’ll feel we know
Raise your eyes to the afterglow

You hitched our ride and that’s our gift
You hitched our ride and that’s our gift

Please don’t lose hope
There are bigger fools in this world to supply sufficient rope
In the midday heat you’ll rest a while
Brush the noble chamomile and smile
Your spirits lift
You hitched our ride and that’s our gift


Guest player: Steve Pumphrey - slide guitar solo

The Gift

Starring the sensational talent of SuZanne Ledwith.  Listen to SuZanne at www.korima.net.

What I Stand To Lose

I think much more today
About what it is I stand to lose
More than what I could gain
When I kneel down to pray
About what it is that I must choose
To keep the pain at bay
Open my mouth to say
About what seems the most confused
When it could be so plain
I think much more today
About what it is I stand to lose

What I stand to lose

When I kneel down to pray
About what it is I stand to lose
More than what I could gain
Open my mouth to say
About what it is that I must choose
To keep the pain at bay
I think much more today
About what seems the most confused
When it could be so plain
And when I find a vein
I know what I stand to lose

What I stand to lose

What I Stand To Lose

SuZanne’s astonishing talent on this recording will make you smile.  Listen to SuZanne at www.korima.net.

Broken Bridges

Too clever to seize fame
You’ll never believe shame
Forever you freeze frame
Broken bridges

Don’t try to stake claim
Wise guy, you take aim
Goodbye forsake blame
Broken bridges

You may point to fractured beams
Disjointed manufactured schemes
Those that belong declare their plans
Can anyone repair the spans of broken bridges?

Just don’t police friends
They’ll break the peace when
You won’t release them 
Broken bridges

Guest musician: Steve Pumphrey - slide guitar solo

Broken Bridges

Cast of players:
SuZanne: David Copperfield
The Candies: James Steerforth, Markham, Grainger & Mrs Crupp.  Guest guitarist: Steve Pumphrey

Listen to SuZanne at www.korima.net.

Lofty Castle
A lofty castle of my own
Like Crusoe pulls up the ladder to be alone
Steerforth, he is our guiding star
Inns of molten blue; that’s our repertoire
“Fill full your cups”

I hear the squawk of corkscrew sound
Long before it’s needed for the next maroon round
I’ve laughed at my own jokes all night
How town sharpens an appetite

Trickling trust divine
“Crackling fever” free
“Unaccustomed wine”
What deceiver it could be

“Vast truths that mortals seldom” found

I heard someone fall down the stairs
False reports the tumbler was in fact truly yours
Perhaps there’s foundation after all
I’m on my back on the passage floor

Trickling trust divine
“Crackling fever” free
“Unaccustomed wine”
What deceiver it could be

“But still we held as time flew by”

Who’s that smoking right by the fireplace? It was me!
Who’s that leaning out of the window? It was me!
Contemplate their self in the mirror? That was me too!

Trickling trust divine
“Crackling fever” free
“Unaccustomed wine”
What deceiver it could be

“Drink to me only with your eyes”

Lofty Castle

White Sail | Korima

Listen to Korima at www.korima.net.

White Sail

Toca la Guitarra | Korima

Listen to Korima at www.korima.net.

Toca La Guitarra

Gotta Run by Korima celebrates the joy of running - our evolved desire to run – and running legends.  Inspired by Christopher McDougall’s: Born To Run.  

Download at https://www.korima.net/listen

Shop

Gotta Run

El Árbol del Fuego - www.korima.net

Hace calor aquí? ¿O soy yo?
Hace calor aquí? ¿O soy yo?

Beware the Purple Tiger
On the wall of flame
Hungarian Hot Wax
With a Bangalore Wippet’s tail

Paper Lantern and Prairie Fire
Select Lucky Seven
Red Cherry Sweet Desire
Will leave you Facing Heaven

Chilhuacle Rojo
Orange Scorching Fresno

Malawi Bird’s Eye burn
Peach Carolina Reaper
Trinidad Perfume
Golden Cayenne Pepper

Hace calor aquí? ¿O soy yo?
Hace calor aquí? ¿O soy yo?

Guitar featured is: Guitarra Especial 10 Concierto by ANTONIO ALVAREZ BERNAL, 41007 SEVILLA SE, España

Graphic effects by Simon

You can find our acoustic versions released in advance of Soundcloud in our "Black & White" page here: https://www.korima.net/black-white

El Árbol del Fuego - Acoustic

The joyous anticipation of travelling to meet a loved one.

Heading For The Girl
Dry, dry mouth.  Tight Grip at the wheel.
This engine screaming, our signpost blurring
At breakneck racing.  All miles descending.
With hot oil burning, I’ll soon be there.

Tell it, tell it to the world.
Tell it, tell it to the clean wired places.
Open up the green wide spaces.
Heading for the girl.

Sea salt on my tongue.  Fresh breeze out on deck.
Shipwreck rolling.  Bow wave ploughing.
No ocean roaring in taste anticipation.
Our coast approaches.  I’ll soon be there.

Drag of kerosene.  Blue sky and brutal sheen.
Endless white whirring.  Emotions stirring.
One thousand strangers crush in this metal tube.
Prepare for landing, I’ll soon be there.

Buy me!

Heading For The Girl

A group of friends make a nuisance of themselves in Newcastle city centre on Saturday afternoon circa 1979.

That’ll Be Us

It’ll never be Saturday afternoon - Eclectic and so cool?
Hog the speakers, spin the “New Boots …” - Kooshie and Stumpy
We’re going to head into town soon - Scratching up our change
“Woodies” ten pack, at the ready - sartorial negligence

That’ll be us
Fenham Hall Drive – waiting for the 32
That’ll be us – lighting up on top deck

And now we’re breaking all the rules – “Marc Tony’s” waitress fumes
JG Windows, pit and pencils
C-90s Red Rizlas
In “Kard Bar” – finding obscure tunes - Combing LP stacks
Incense burning, concrete stairwells – Our Mick’s getting wittier

That’ll be us
Fenham Hall Drive – waiting for the 32 oo oo
That’ll be us – lighting up on top deck
Together we know – all the words to that reminiscent folk song
Tasting the snow – that’ll be us

Dodging the thugs who feel immune – trying to ridicule
Mock the mysteries, scoff the pop charts
Spoof the big wigs
And now from nowhere there’s a plan – maybe back to Kay’s
Or walk out to Jesmond, drink Federation
Benign insular niche

Taste Anticipation

That'll Be Us

We are all sensationally unprepared for the key moments in our amazing lives.

Unexpected

He touched her hair and held her tight. Did not expect to be at her flat tonight.
But then she called him after work.  So he drove down to hear the verse.
He’d thought she’d looked to let him go but then they talked alone and so he touched her hair and held her tight. 

He touched her hair and held her tight. Did not expect to be so tired that night.
Her white dress hanging on the door; gold hair pins scattered across the floor.
But their guests would dance ‘til three, so they drifted out to sea.  He touched her hair and held her tight.

He touched her hair and held her tight. Did not expect the babe to come that night.
But to her labour he awoke.  She said “let’s go my water’s broke!”
Now wrapped in tiny blanket.  Will take the world for granted.  He touched her hair and held her tight. 

He touched her hair and held her tight. Did not expect to be at the morgue tonight.
Because, she’d rallied recently but now she rests so gracefully.  
Unexpected, ill-prepared, unfamiliar, unaware.  He touched her hair and held her tight.

Buy this song here!

Unexpected

A winter walk in the Surrey Hills from Ranmore Common to The Wotton Hatch

Our Life Together

Absolute freedom as a state of mind

Latitude

Autumn’s autonomy permits my heart to fly
Summer’s immunity exempts my pride
On single touch gates acquiesce to open wide
Cheering crowds indulge my liberty 

Drifting 
Down the highway
Going my way
Latitude

Those high brick walls around me just dissolve away
Our songbird boasting virtuosity
A breath of fresh abandon sets the scene; thin disguise
Our bare feet walk the forest floor tonight

Latitude

Buy our song!

Set amongst the surfers on the north Cornish coast, two contrasting approaches to loss collide dramatically; leading to a preposterous plea.

Fistral Beach

Blinding bright crest – briny mist stings – emblazoned in the sun
The peeling shouts, a crashing blaze – stifled by the din 
Vain furiously crawl to intercept the rolling peak
Picked-up by Neptune’s spear and carried fleetingly

Cannot shake hands, familiar friends, somehow they meet again
The vibrant pulse conversation waves the hours away
As they round the wriggling coastal path, they walk in step (but)
A distant observer sees just one young man walk alone

As the evening light begins to fade
His spirit friend declines the ask to stay
And ghosts into the rising headland spray

A double take, a mock jaw drop, the spirit’s fiancé 
What chance encounter, delicate perfuming embrace
Once they stood together under purple shroud of grief
Her corporeal manifest of his perfect life so brief

Her restless team, her life rebuilt with stunning granite towers
They are not armour to the past but glow with zest for life
Join us in the bay they say with radiating faces
And glances from the Captain show that he is her new beau

Gripped with fear he stumbles. What to say?
He knows his spirit friend must stay away 
Or drown within the truth of what became

Don’t go down to Fistral Beach.  The endless sand is just too golden
Don’t go down to Fistral Beach.  The beach bar beer is much too cold – and
Its rosemary skies are still too blue.  Fistral Beach is not for you, my friend

Fistral Beach

A song about cross country running with friends in the outstanding Surrey Hills – in Winter, Spring and Summer.

Running in the Surrey Hills

A vineyard stretches out – intact in virgin snow
Pre-race espresso still tintangles in our blue veins
Take out the timer and get ready to press “go”
A northern blast will petrify these southern faces
Our swarm of crimson vests ascends the steady hill
And each pace crunches down the crystal powder chill

Running in the Surrey Hills - voices are swallowed in the soft acoustic
Running in the Surrey Hills - in the winter time

Now narrow trails twist through the bitter bluebell floor
And three-plank bridges straddle rattling cackling flow
Our ragged chain snakes down the boggy broken track
White Hawthorn hedges flank the broad acres below
Step over deep-ploughed waves across the country mile
And clasp a helping hand through kissing gate and stile

Running in the Surrey Hills – soaking our spikes in the storm at sunset
Running in the Surrey Hills – when the bluebells chime

Now nettles needle naked knees with open arms
In single file we weave through tall Indium corn
Epicurean view from Ranmore spire to Leith Hill
From blasted furnace fields to crazy shady cool copse 
At Greensand way, wipe stinging eyes from rosary sweat
Dense, deeply musky mustard yellow oil vignette

Running in the Surrey Hills - voices are swallowed in the soft acoustic
Running in the Surrey Hills - in the summer time

Running In The Surrey Hills

Let's go out for dinner!

Lago di Garda

Let’s go take the train Stazione Verona
Through Peschiera to 
Desenzano del Garda
Stepping out down Via Angela Merici 
His proud white linen shirt
Her Polka dot blue twirling skirt

They sip two cool glasses of Montonale
And someone lights a pair of Nazionale

Lago di Garda, Lago di Garda

Gentle breeze – the invincible heat
The menu propaganda
Draws them to their favourite seats
“Salute!” toast the peninsular silhouette
Their table is the stage 
The lake a debut movie set

They taste the foil-baked bream with lemon garlic oil
Savour Lugana San Vigilio

Hitch a launch – home - across the purple depths 
That turn to Emerald
Upon the clefting keel

Shots of Mantovani Limonchello
Dark blue mountains watch the scene below

Lago di Garda

Cover art photo taken at 'Latent Spaces' by Markos Kay at Illusionaries, Canary Wharf, London

This song is a tongue-in-cheek view of how youthful, gleeful ambition has somehow led to fleeing in the night!

Ambition

I’m going to ride
On the midnight train
I’m going to hide
From every trace of blame

Gonna invent machines to capture global reliance 
Combine the fields to form a model alliance
Break all the norms and
Take the valley by storm
Won’t let those business guys ruin our science 

Gonna type out a novel with triumphant incision
Take plenty of time to perfect my derision
Page-turning grit and
A laugh-out-loud skit
Shred politicians with my dazz[e]ling wit

Gonna consume all the laws with passionate mission
Set out my case with compelling precision
Free innocent mates
And make villains wait
Bring down the curtain on injustice and hate

Solo by Steve Pumphrey

Ambition

Moment One

I didn’t care whose voice it was
I’m captive and a slave
Bright and pure shines her star
Upon that glorified guitar
Until we came to Spenlow’s grave

No pausing on the brink
I was gone
No time to even think
Fallen headlong
From moment one

Enough wrung out of me to drown
A fellow moonstruck clerk
Steeped in a sea of soup and sound
Bite the key to my carpet bag
Distinguish in the dark

Weak infatuation, maudlin mind 
Celestial blue
Saturated through and through
Turn into a room close at hand
The empress of my heart

Many thanks to Steve Pumphrey for playing the guitar solo on this recording.

Moment One

Step 1: we join the organisation but tell ourselves we will always be independent-of-mind and free.  Step 2: we are bossing it, cooking on gas, this really works for us.  Step 3: the organisation owns us, we can never leave.

Institutionalised

And through the breaking gloom
This uncontested room
I case the joint with pride
Occupy the underside
Squint in the interlude
Anointed in a jubilant mood
I glimpse the uppermost
Assume my celebrated post

One thing I know, I will never go institutionalised

Grasp the embodiment
Curated malcontent
Den’zens stoop to delude
Conform to servitude
We think ourselves beloved
Possess roles outsiders do covet
Intruder forgotten
‘taneously fresh and rotten

I start to sense I’ve jumped the fence.  Institutionalised.
Those years I spent inside the tent.  Institutionalised.

The twilight filth long past
Involuntary cast
of orphaned hostile eyes – per-
-forate the lost mile cries
Connecting doors turned sour
In the vituperative tower
Tortured triumphs tumble
Conjured corpulence crumbles

Too late for me.  I’m happy to be Institutionalised.

Esteemed guests: Andrea Escott on lead vocals, Steve Pumphrey on guitar solo

Institutionalised

Inspired by the travelogue "Far and Wide" by Neil Peart.  And helped home by Thomas Hardy's "Drummer Hodge".

Drummer

If you see our drummer, could you tell him we’re about to go on stage?
And, if you see our drummer, could you tell him?  Could you tell him?

So you’re gonna take yourself out of the game
Your route map unveils
Less-travelled dirt trails
They hold a better claim

Wow!  Scooting round the venue on your roller skates
Think you’d agree though
Be your own hero
Tie courage to the gates

How?  From behind the mask of Buffy Sainte-Marie
To breach the backline
For this one last time
On your metric century

Now, like young Hodge he rests under the plain
The pain that Bubba knew
The meaning of the Broad Karoo
Where strange constellations reign

Binge biking with Michael
On your touring motorcycle
You’re no one’s disciple

If you see our drummer
Could you tell him that we miss him every day?

Drummer

December 1926: high jinks at the Harrogate Hydro.  A mysterious guest has upstaged the palm court players.  How can they make her leave?

Hiding in Plain Sight 

My name’s Tappin the Banjo and – along with Fiddler Fred
We’re the finest palm court entertainers - Finzi might have said
And while we talk of Mr Baldwin ending martial law
But as we walk, we’re thinking of events the night before

With a sip of courage from my flask
I’m not afraid to ask
Is that the lady from the lake?
Is that the girl who’s gotten more than she can take?
Dropped-waist Chanel chemise
Alpina coat above the knees
Is that the lady from the lake?
 
Sporting rolled-down Berkshire stockings and cross-strapped Perugia heels
We’ve been completely upstaged by the Cape Town Flapper Mrs Neale
The way she like to dance the Texas Tommy through the night
As if her psychogenic trance is hiding in plain sight

We must do what Sir Arthur’s spirits could not believe
What boy scouts and bloodhounds could not achieve
And find a way for our slender guest – to leave!

Eton crop under cloche hat
Coty cupids from The Kit Cat

Her scent is Apres Londee
She speaks in mangled Franglais

There she stands cue in hand
Sings Red Robin with the band

Candyside Arcade

Pinned to spotlight

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