I'm as sombre as a colliery coat.
These tunes are a hundred years old.
I should be as joyful as a row of Christmas lights, but I'm too dumb not to think about you.

On long drives I'll analyse the winters past, 'til occupied with other things I can't resolve, like how robins predict the paths of old trucks on trunk roads on the last shift (heading home) and navigate deftly from branch to branch.

As I try to stay awake, glaciers shake and calve colossal sheets of ice.

Give me a little three-part harmony on a street at dusk, that's busy and lit tastefully, and I will sing along.

Angels are watching out on the roads, children are gathering snow.
So put on your winter coat - it's time to go home.

When we lost our feet on these frozen paths, it was so good just to hold each other up.  There in the backlight, where the snow-filled clouds, dirty white, hold back the night.

Out at the edge of Antarctica, parts fall away, then they don't fit back together.

Colossal Sheets Of Ice

Terry Side One

Terry Side Two

Slow Release Love

Huddled for the warmth and making sure that they were all in the frame.

I protest they might've guessed they'd take a wrong turn. 
Yeah I'd proceed to prophesy and of course I'd be in love with one or two. 

'Baby you might die tonight and here's how... You might think it's impossible, but that's how they find you. You don't leave 'til dawn, so come keep me warm.'

With unexposed film and diaries filled with last thoughts, a story formed. Speculate about missile tests and metal pressed in '58. Some say you might radiate from camping lanterns. Some say you walk barefoot if the cold's bitter and I won't blame an avalanche.

'You might think it's impossible that I'll ever find you. Your tent's ripped and torn.'

Fire. Dead camp fire at the edge of the woods. No trace of an explosion here.
Climb the cedar. Climb to look or to hide.

It's my romanticised view.

'Don't thunder down off the mountain, headlong into a ravine.
If it's safe to hold you I'll hold you for the night.'

I would've been a great liar, but I swear I'd refuse to go along with it.

It's my romanticised view of the East; conspiracies like fire; without which there's no smoke.

'I could've saved you.'

Compelling Unknown Force

Not threatened by the dark so far, nor unmarked cars, nor overhanging cantilever cameras. They never took a good shot all night long. Their apertures and shutter speeds all wrong.

They want to leave you some grainy photo.
Like you were some terrifying blur.

In time, the blackbirds gathered round to study the wreck, and they said, "there's nothing left for us to do, but document these holes in the ground, debris strewn around, note his position, time of death..."

They returned to the trees to worry about winter and how they're going to bury their new arrival when the frost hardens the soil.

Spring came when the snowdrops covered the ground, but nobody found his cross.

Until a keen-eyed child, spots the hole in the hedge; the tyre marks.

Terrifying Blur

Covered one of my favourite Paramore songs using nylon guitar and my voices.

That's What You Get (Paramore cover)

Inundations of the Sea

Black Dots

Gudbrandsdalslågen

Hi.  I'm in a band and used to be in other bands.  I'm going to use this page as an archive of rough demos, works in progress, and solo tracks.

crabb

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