Ring of Roses

Once I dreamed a ring of roses
All my family were there
All my friends and my ex-lovers
Pretty flowers in their hair

Well I don’t believe they saw me
As they lay upon the ground
So sacred, so holy
That I dared not make a sound

I picked them up and I held them
But my breath scattered them like seeds
Some they fell among the long grass
Some they fell among the weeds

Some they fell among the weeds

All at once I saw their faces
Glowing high upon a screen
Saints and angels gazed upon me
Ghosts stared out of the machine

Your time is short the spirits told me
If you have come to say goodbye
I asked them Which of us is leaving?
Is it you? Is it I?

Their faces pixelated
I could hardly make them out
As the picture was degraded
Goodbyes buffered from their mouths

Goodbyes buffered from their mouths

All alone at last I wandered
Lost in pity lost in prayer
Only the wild high birds could hear me
The wild high birds they didn’t care

Words can’t say how much I’ve missed you
If I ever was your kin
If I ever was a friend to you
I hope to be your friend again

If I ever was your lover
Who wandered in the night
If I ever hurt you
How can I ever put things right?

How can I ever put things right?

Ring Of Roses

Tribute to Ryan Adams, mellow acoustic version of one of my favourite songs.

Sweet Carolina (Ryan Adams cover)

“Perhaps as you went along you did learn something. I did not care what it was all about. All I wanted to know was how to live in it. Maybe if you found out how to live in it you learned from that what it was all about.” 
― Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises

Brudini - Pale Gold

The Brydes

The Knives

Danielle Perry chats to Mick Jagger about Exhibitionism

Well I feel like Don Quixote on mezcal and peyote
Taking on the windmills of my mind
With a bottle of chianti and my trusty Rocinante
Sancho Panza rides along behind
Sancho Panza, he rides along behind
Then swimming through my vision like some holy apparition
To the sound, the sound of distant drums
My eyes they wont believe me but my ears they don’t deceive me
Here she comes, here she comes, here she comes
Here she comes, here she comes, here she comes

As the fog it clears, I wake up in Ikea
With a bag and a bucket and a basket and a buggy and a bucket and a bin
And they rifle my possessions and start to ask me questions
Like who am I and where have I been?
Who am I and where have I been?
I traded beads for deeds of honour, she kept a bracelet on her
And there’s rings on all her fingers and her thumbs
Like the ghost of Poccahantas I swear she walks among us
Here she comes, here she comes, here she comes
Here she comes, here she comes, here she comes

I have been a thousand places, I have seen a thousand faces
But there’s only one, one that I hold dear
She has brought me to my senses, bust down walls, broke down fences
Now I see so brightly, now I see so clear
Now I see so brightly, now I see so clear
She speaks with the Orishas, she swims among the fishes
She feeds me figs and dates and oranges and plums
I’ve smoked her chillum, drunk her gourd
I’ve held her plastic sword
Here she comes, here she comes, here she comes
Here she comes, here she comes, here she comes

James Brute: Vocals & Guitar
Mat Martin: Guitar & Vocals
Dave Ferrett: Bass & Vocals
Johnny Manning: Keyboard & Percussion
Fin Brown: Drums & Vocals

No Collective Title

Here She Comes

Released 9th December 2016 on Infinite Jest Records.

On Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/6clCNASs2SZOMJoalbvI4v
On itunes: https://itunes.apple.com/gb/album/shoulda-known-it-single/id1176882525

www.facebook.com/oh800/
oheighthundred [at] gmail.com

Shoulda Known It

Song by L T WADE
Drums by Olly Betts
Mixed by Olly Betts
Mastered by Pete Maher
Art by Jon Bland
Photography by Brian Smith

Hard To Know

Hey Hey!

James Brute biography


James Brute is the alter ego of James Steel, songwriter and frontman of 2000s East London darlings, The Brute Chorus. Since the release of Bury Yourself—his debut solo single in 2014—his musical tales of love, loss, and lust have ventured into ever darker and more mysterious waters. The warp and weft of his songwriting speak to our basest human instincts, weaving together themes and characters that are at once ancient and modern, arcane and mundane.
In 2025 he began playing some of the most intimate shows of his career: unaccompanied, often completely unplugged, standing alone in the middle of a room among those who had gathered to listen. Stripped of all adornment, his songs emerged raw and unguarded - sung out, slung out and strung out for all to hear. And in that vulnerability, a new path began to emerge, the darkness pricked with the light of hope. 


“…a must see for anyone with a hankering for bleak-abilly blues.” – NME

Here She Comes

James Brute

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