‘Mr McIntosh has left the building’ is a track from the latest album 'Judge a man by the company he keeps'. It's about a man experiencing his last day in employment. Having spent all of his working life in the same office job, he reflects upon the speed with which the whole thing seems to have passed him by.
The splendid image is provided by Ross Findon, whose work is available at Unsplash.com.

Mr McIntosh has left the building

This was the opening track on the 'Almost half-undressed' album.  The opening line is: “If you don’t know what it’s like, you don’t know what you’re missing”.  Yes, being in love can suck, but this song delights in a little misery as it talks up the pain and heartache of it all.  Musically, the trick here was to try and make it all sound easy and relaxed in order to evoke a certain heady and wistful feeling; we ended up with quite a delicate arrangement, as befits the subject matter.  Stuart MacLeod does some rather fine bottleneck work amid the lush textures, while the strings -for those interested in that sort of thing- are actually sampled vocals.  Once we’d finished the recording, this track just seemed like the natural choice to open the album.  Wallowing in the sweet pain of infatuation, it floats dreamily along, sounding like a slightly tipsy Beautiful South trying to impersonate XTC.    

Useless Love

The subject of political polarization fascinates me. The lyric to this song attempts to explore a landscape wherein dialogue between opposing sides isn’t just frowned upon or rejected; it is taken to be undesirable. “All styles are welcome here, with one disclaimer: we won’t allow dissent inside the echo chamber”

My Gang

‘3 o’clock on a Saturday’ is a love letter to Scottish football, celebrating the cultural importance of our football grounds. These unique venues come in many shapes and sizes, but all are focal points for the hopes and dreams of communities throughout the country. Some of them are modern and sleek, others are ancient, perhaps even crumbling in places, but still in possession of their own ramshackle charm. The song features various fans reciting the beautiful, evocative names which just roll off the tongue, among them: Borough Briggs, Brig o’Lea, Cappielow, Duncansfield, Tannadice.
Generations of supporters have shared countless moments of drama, heroism and joy at their football grounds, along with moments of boredom, frustration and pain; it is all part of the football experience. But in the current climate, the inconsistencies of government policy -wherein one kind of gathering is allowed, but another one isn’t- evoke a different kind of frustration. As our historic community hubs lie empty, the video (follow the link on our profile page) focuses on the theme of denial of access. The featured fans all make the same frustrating journey and make the same symbolic statement: These grounds belong to us; our rituals will continue, because they must. It is here that we celebrate who we are, here where history and hope fire the imagination.     
Jock Stein famously said that “football without fans is nothing”, but what are fans without football?

3 o'clock on a Saturday

An alternative version of the first single from the album 'Judge a man by the company he keeps'.

3 o'clock on a Saturday (Alternative Version)

A track from the album 'Film your own atrocities'. Backing vocals provided by the very talented Kelsey Hunter. Image by Milada Vigarova at unsplash.com.

Miles Until Morning

A track from the first album 'Almost half-undressed', this represents something of a brief assault on the senses. It's crammed with retro synths, a disco bassline, crashing powerchords and harmonies straight out of the Beatles songbook. It's a slightly retro (but hopefully not cheesy) arrangement, with Ronan Breslin contributing the funky synth (complete with mad solo), while Paul Gray and Billy Devine cook up a storm in the rhythm section.      
The lyric is about two people trying to inhabit a private space away from all notions of personal responsibility. The line “You learn from experience that you don’t learn much from experience” is key to illustrating the folly of dwelling in the kind of fantasy world conjured up by the self-deluding losers in this song. 
The image is provided by Adrian Swancar at Unsplash.com.

25 o'clock

This is an acoustic re-working of a song that, in an ideal world, would have been made famous by Gum.  It was recorded for their 2003 ‘Low-flying Kites’ album, then later given a lush makeover for single release. The original demo was a little bit 'down and dirty' before the band transformed it into something in the folky-electronica vein. This version is probably closer in style to my original demo of the song and the slightly bitter tone of the vocal seems to suit the subject material. Stripped right back to basics, this acoustic version manages to retain the kind of condemnatory vibe befitting what is -in effect- a piece of character assassination. As usual, the names have been left out in order to protect the guilty.

Peep-show etiquette

Asleep at the wheel

This track (taken from the first Eisenhowers album) is an acoustic meditation on the perfidy of politicians and con-men, all of those clever folk who can pull imaginary rabbits out of ragged old hats. Does the world really need another Napoleon? I think not.  
Most politicians are snake oil salesmen (that is a theme that could be mined forever), but the idea of the ‘wrecking crew’ -the private lynch mob employed by the political shyster in this song- was designed to take it into an altogether more sinister dimension. The image is provided by Deleece Cook at Unsplash.com.

The Abracadabra Man

A jaunty little acoustic number that pokes fun at the guy who leaves the office party with a swagger in his step, believing his aftershave aroma to be rather more impressive than it actually is. We’d probably want to avoid this guy, perhaps because –in the wrong circumstances- we might well be this guy.

Acoustic

South of Love

A friend told me that my lyrics tended towards the melancholic, so –just for a change- I thought I would try to write something that was a bit more upbeat. This one tried its best, but somehow still ended up with a sting in the tail. The lyric tries to get inside the head of a guy who nurses a crush on a girl he sees every day when he commutes to work. I imagined that the song would have a happy ending (with the guy asking the girl out and them both living happily ever after), but by the time I got around to finishing it, the story had acquired something of a twist. The protagonist tries to imagine a situation in which he will have the courage to make an approach to the girl, but with every situation he imagines, the recognition comes that all he will ever do is continue to do what he has always done: nothing at all. He knows that he will never pluck up the courage to ask the girl out and settles instead for running little fantasy numbers in his head. Maybe failure is a bit more interesting than success.

If she gets on my train

This song is about being in a band and about hitting the wall of realisation that you are not going to be the next U2. In the first verse, there is excitement and optimism as the band plan for a successful future, loading up their van to hit the road for a gig (in the exotic location of Aberdeen). The second verse is written from the perspective of the morning after the night before, grinding through the day job and attempting to analyse events through a fug of sleep deprivation. What was last night about? Why did we do it? Was it really a good use of our time? The chorus illustrates that perhaps a certain realisation has occurred to the protagonist.

How will you know when you know?

At some point in our lives, most of us will get ditched or double-crossed, pulverised or put down and the chances are that some of us will harbour dark thoughts of revenge. Harbouring those thoughts can be a frustrating way to pass the time, but if you’re a songwriter you can at least even things up a little by writing a revenge song. Your revenge song won’t quite make up for any slights you have suffered, but the process of writing it will be cathartic and, if you get lucky, it might even make you a few bob. 
This is another track from the album 'Judge a man by the company he keeps'.

Angry Boy

Raymond Weir has been a familiar face on the Glasgow music scene for a number of years. As keyboard player, writer and producer for the atmospheric pop band Gum, he received rave reviews for the albums ‘Low-flying Kites’ and ‘Seven Feeble Alibis’. He is also the founder member of The Eisenhowers, described by one critic as: “a band specialising in literate, punchy and thoughtful songs about celebrity, love, money, parenthood and serial killers.”
This page features tracks from all three Eisenhowers albums, along with a little bit of background information (for those who like that sort of thing). Many of these songs could have been hits, but only if they had been written, produced and recorded by someone more talented. 
If you are interested in buying any Eisenhowers music, please follow the links to I-tunes and /or Bandcamp. The latest album, 'Judge a man by the company he keeps' was released in January 2021. A source close to the band has described it as "possibly the greatest thing since sliced bread, or whatever".

The Eisenhowers

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