What If Now, We All Change?

Zen in linen shirts
They sap upon the day
Like every other morning star
Acceptable and fey
December dismembered my instruments
I can’t tell you that now
But I say

No Jared Leto
No Jared Leto
No Jared Leto
Anyway
No Jared Leto
No Jared Leto
No Jared Leto
Go away
Go the fuck away

Implicated 
I don’t know
I said myself a dozen times
Once or twice I fell below it
I remember bottom lines
But never being like you
Never being like you
I won’t “peace out, dude”
Away with you

Jared Leto
No Jared Leto
No Jared Leto
Anyway
No Jared Leto
No Jared Leto
No Jared Leto
Go away
Go the fuck away

No Jared Leto

You Shine On

Control

This tune is a reminder and a plea. Our current economic climate doesn't make it easy for all to step outside and breathe, take notice of the small things and reliece the pressures that exist in our individual worlds. How wild swimming and standing by trees can regulate our vagus nerve, grounding us in our nervous system allowing us to connect with each other, relax. So it's a reminder, that even if accesss is hard, and housing is hard, and everything is hard, get a bit of fresh air, fresh water, when you can, find a plant, even in the most concrete of landscapes there is always a bit of life.

Opening with a variation on the Georgian folk song 'ბინდისფერია სოფელი' Bindisperia Sopeli taught to me by @nino.naneishvili
Part of the lyrics translates as -
The color of the world is twilight, and is getting darker. In an age where it is easier to imagine dystopia than a hopeful future this song really touched on some of what I was feeling whilst writing 'staring at the grain'.


Lyrics -
Slate and grass and water running fast and o’er over hill,
Over hill and to the lake here there will find the freshest fill,

Undulating mountains pasture slowly beginning to fade,
Hoping that the life clings on here even in the summer’s shade,

Our trees are arteries and our trees are arteries

Twigs and leaf and bark are witness
To the drowning of the hill
Over copse and to the vale here
We won’t find the waters still, mmm...

Beckoning the forest shelters
Axed and planed and sawn in shape
Sweep away last cherry stones
Burn humble hope in fire place

Our trees are arteries and our trees are arteries

Cos nothing cures delirium like staring at the grain the tiny knotted faces help the trees to explain about their life before the plank, the twisted beech and straightened ash

staring at the grain

do you love me now ?

366. together in electric dreams (moroder-oakley).mp3

Déjà-vu

The Commisorator

Skye Wallace self-titled LP arrives June 7th, 2019

Suffering For You

The Valla - Manchester
Dead Poet Society - California
Francis Moon - Amsterdam
Kickin' Lillies - Sunderland
Queen Beach - London
Brooders - Leeds
Kios - Nashville
Janice Prix - Gothenburg, Sweden
Reflekter - Nottingham
Persian Rug Sale - Huddersfield
Queen Beach - London
Local Natives - USA

Episode 167 Of The Unheard Indie Podcast!  25th July 2020

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Episode 167 Of The Unheard Indie Podcast! 25th July 2020

Unheard Indie

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