China Shop

Anytime Soon

I wrote a proof once
In the margin of an old book
It held
It sang in silence
I solved a riddle no one posed
But someone should have
And the page
Bent to my will

I was on a train
Between Oxford
And existential despair
Light flickered. Ink cracked
My coffee spilled
Still, logic marched in perfect rows
Shining
Afraid to be alone

But the margin
Too narrow
For voices like this

I drew your outline
In the corner, soft and hidden
Lines too gentle for names
Wrote a vow, never signed
A plan with no axis
And the paper
Tensed beneath my wanting

Under the station's hum
I footnoted everything I didn't say
Margins full of detours
Echoes of maybe
Each heartbeat struck
A chord I never dared to play

What if the page could break open?
What if the lines ran wild?
Not neat. Not safe. Not approved
But real
Bleeding past every edge

Because the margin
Was never enough
Not for this voice
Not for us

Tear it out
Let the ink run free
We'll write where no lines go

The Margin Was Too Narrow

Chief

Transformation is the title track from the upcoming album Transformation, out January 6th.

This is the longest piece we’ve released so far – and the centre of the record. Everything before it leads here. Everything after it shifts.

Best experienced in one uninterrupted listen.

[LYRICS]

Skin like paper, peeling slow
Ashes falling, seeds will grow
Shadows bending, shapes collide
I dissolve, and then I rise

Transformation, shifting flame
Never ending, never same
Breaking open, shedding skin
Falling out to fall within

Glass is breaking, time stands still
Empty vessel starts to fill
Fading echo, voice unknown
Turn to stone, then turn to bone

Split in two, I recombine
Lose the form, redraw the line
Every fracture, every scar
Maps the place of who we are

Transformation, shifting flame
Never ending, never same
Breaking open, shedding skin
Falling out to fall within

Transformation…
Transformation…
Still becoming…
Still becoming…

Transformation

Everything is fine
until you speak

They raised the flag, they lit the torch
they swore the words were free
But every time a tongue gets scorched
I hear the lock turn on the key

We all chant "Say what you want!" at the rally
until the echo rattles back through the alley
Freedom's cheap when it's your own creed
but your neighbor's truth feels like a weed

You clap for voices that sing your song
but plug your ears when they prove you wrong

You want the right to shout
but not the right to doubt
Freedom of speech
until you speak
You'll fight for the megaphone
until it cuts your bone
Freedom of speech
until you speak

They'll frame your words on a courtroom wall
but whisper "Censor him" down the hall
Heroes of principle, fists held high
until your sentence crosses their sky

The saints, the critics, the kings of the stage
they write their sermons and call it courage
But when a word strikes too close to home
suddenly silence becomes their throne

Do you want truth
or just a mirror?
Do you want freedom
or something nearer?
A cage with your anthem carved in stone
but bars that slam when it's not your own!

Every tongue's a loaded gun
but only yours is aimed for fun

You want the right to shout
but not the right to doubt
Freedom of speech
until you speak
You'll fight for the megaphone
until it cuts your bone
Freedom of speech
until you speak

They said the words were free
but every word has a fee

Until You Speak

The printer coughs again
black smoke of bureaucracy
Paper jam number seventy-three
a graveyard of half-born memos
It whines like it's dying
but only when you need it most

Coffee machine blinking red
"Water tank missing"
No-it's right there
but the machine has decided
to unionize with the printer
We brew despair instead

Error 404: sanity not found
Temperature swings from tundra to kiln
balance is myth
comfort is folklore
On average, perfectly fine
in hell's statistics

The air vents choose violence at noon
hurling frost into spreadsheets
then molten wind into email chains
I shed layers like an onion
until only deadlines remain

We dream of revolutions
but the fire alarm
tests itself at random
reminding us rebellion
requires fresh batteries

Error 404: humanity not found
Restart, reboot, the wheel goes round
Error 404: courage can't be found
Look away fast, don't make a sound

Update complete
Nothing has changed

Error 404: Sanity Not Found

This song was born from The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer — a poem that found me years ago while I was travelling through the mountains of Bolivia. I still remember that moment in La Paz, when a girl I’d just met read it to me out loud. Her voice, the altitude, the sky, the poverty — something in those words pierced right through me.

Later,  I improvised those same words live with my band, letting their truth move through me. Now, all these years later, we’ve recreated it —postrockfeeling  a reflection on what it really means to be human, to love, to show up fully in this lifetime.

The Invitation

The Fly

Typed a truth that bit my hand
Logic slipped through contraband
The graph looked smug, the proof got lost
I called it genius-at what cost?

I tried to fix it
the problem fixed me first
There's rhythm in recursion
and guilt in every verse

I feel silly, oh, so silly
twisting reason till it's frilly
Every thought insists it's wise
but wears a clown nose in disguise

I chased an answer down a hall of drafts
doors of maybe, doors of laughs
Truth peeked through a keyhole grin
"you again?" she said, and let me in

I feel...
not wrong
just misplaced
The melody rewrote my face

I feel silly, oh, so silly
Dancing wrong but looking pretty
Every paradox I own
sends postcards to my comfort zone

If wisdom comes, let it knock twice
I'm out rehearsing bad advice
I feel silly
and honestly
it feels just right

I feel silly, oh, so silly
Dancing wrong but looking pretty...
I feel silly, oh, so silly
Dancing wrong but looking pretty...

Silly-Frilly

They shoved me in the basement, where the light don’t glow
Took my desk, my coffee cup, but there’s one thing they don’t know
I’ve got a fiery treasure, bright against the gray
My red stapler’s my salvation, it’s my only getaway

Oh, red stapler, hold me tight
In this cubicle jungle, you’re my light
When the world burns down, I’ll smile and choose
To walk away singin’ the Red Stapler Blues

The boss can take my paycheck, the copier can jam
But my little red stapler says, “Stick it to the man”
It’s more than just an office tool, it’s my sacred fight
A tiny piece of justice in the corporate night

Oh, red stapler, hold me tight
In this cubicle jungle, you’re my light
When the world burns down, I’ll smile and choose
To walk away singin’ the Red Stapler Blues

Oh, red stapler, hold me tight
Shine like fire in the spotlight
Staple the blues, staple 'em true
Red stapler, I believe in you!

Red Stapler

✦ Bandcamp: https://cruft.bandcamp.com
✦ Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/41pnowvb5PaMHZkoWDvotS?si=BJHUq7VITda_x1o9TbVHRQ

Cruft begins in the quiet places where ideas breathe before they have names. A pulse, a texture, a strange harmony appears, then another and soon the room tilts toward something neither of us had planned. Some nights the music arrives in a rush as if it has been waiting. Other times it circles slowly, testing its shape until it chooses to step forward.

No path repeats. Guitars crack open the silence one moment, then dissolve into synth haze the next. Brass glints at the edges like distant signals. We follow clues more than rules and trust the sound to guide us further than intention ever could.

AI may offer a reflection in the glass - yet the movement, the drift and the sudden leaps belong to Cruft alone.

🎶 Expect the unexpected – the rest reveals itself only when you listen closely.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cruft