Fresh thing from the (actual) kitchen @ casa powpow-maccaccino. Was gonna hold this back until the winter thing I'm putting together, but I can't resist putting it out into the world. As I am about to travel, so shall it travel. 
_________________

I'm a dabbler, but not a dilettante 
I've gotten real good at this one thing after all
I never told you, but then you never asked
Whatever I thought of you back then is in the past

Lalala lalalala

A strange feeling, hand under my chin
Sustained eye contact tells me that you're going in
For a sad lick, before you're making words
'Bout how we both have a lot of things to work through

De ta bouche à mon oreille 

I'm a creature of commodity
If you're withdrawing your claim I'll make it very easy
It's my nature to force your retreat
When the dust settles you'll wonder who did the leaving 

Lalala lalalala

I'm a dabbler, but not a dilettante (dilettante)
I've gotten real good at this one thing after all
I'm a dabbler, but not a dilettante (dilettante)
I've gotten real good at this one thing after all
I'm a dabbler, but not a dilettante (dilettante)
I've gotten real good at this one thing after all
I'm a dabbler, but not a dilettante (dilettante)
I've gotten real good at this one thing after all  

Ohh 

<3


I'm A Creature

Civil Forfeiture Action

find more new stuff at lamusiquedekate.bandcamp.com

Butter Mints

Feathers

only now recording a bunch of songs i wrote in angsty teen world 

Say It

Of Age

Tunnel Of Love

Based on this local news story:
http://www.santafenewmexican.com/news/local_news/chimay-man-says-melting-snow-revealed-image-of-our-lady/article_ec1682cf-e220-5d0f-826d-e79838165153.html

a morning like all others
a phrase which must tempt nature
to set that morning apart

the glaze on that first donut
oh, its circlet of drips
not unlike tears of virgins
melt into your coffee

Ave, ave, Maria

your mud flaps set to throbbing
by the idling engine
a forklift poised to proffer
one half-ton of diapers

a piece of second donut
falls into your coffee
as you stand, hand over heart
and see her for the first time

Ave, ave Maria

a dark robe wrapped around her
and her pious face 
above her blessed girdle
could a sign be clearer

a morning like no other
a phrase which must tempt nature 
to give that morning a mate

Flatbed Simulacrum

Will probably re-do these vocals. Recorded 11 AM Tuesday Sept. 27. Work in progress for forthcoming EP. 

paroles

j’ai renversé ta tasse de café sur mon lit, aussitot que t’es parti, comme si pour diviner quel continent te me volera 
je dirai groenland et l’archipel arctique canadien. 

un matelas taché de sang et du café, une métaphore pas inappropriée, même s’il vaut mieux ne pas noter ses métaphores comme je le fais, étant gauchère chuis prédisposé à tout gâcher 

voila, c’est plus la peine 
de parler autour d’un amour que tu ne ressens pas 

Depuis mille neuf-cent soixante dix-huit, un homme de Lafayette, Louisianne qui s’appelle Richard Gibson a collectionné toutes ses coupures d’ongles dans un pot, 
qu’il affiche chez lui comme un trésor 

ce qui nous sépare d’une telle personnage, 
n’est pas un gout pour le vraiment degeulasse, 
mais la devotion qu’il faut pour s'attaquer à une tache
qui n’aura jamais fin, n’aura jamais fin, n’aura jamais fin

tu vois, c’est plus ma faute: impénétrable, tu arriveras intacte à la porte de la prochaine femme 

voila, c’est plus la peine 
de parler autour d’un amour qui restera dans son pot 
et n’aura jamais fin, n’aura jamais fin, n’aura jamais fin, n'aura jamais fin

Onglet

It was like a well in an ice cube tray 
Or a cage of fine mesh sewn to corset stays
The plastic machine of my high school days
And the constant threat of falling down dead

It was like the world on an ice cream cone
Gotta hold it just right or the world gets thrown
The people I pass never look quite right
Like I pulled the street right out of a dream

Mercury glass and a double-line pass
And dead and dying moths beneath my feet

It was like a swim in an icemelt lake 
Where the little whitecaps race the speedboat wake
The water is clear quite a few feet out
But I know there's something swimming down deep

Mercury Glass

My name is Kate. I write songs and record them in my free time (and at many other times, when I ought to be doing other things). I am from Doylestown, Pennsylvania, and spend most of my time reporting/anchoring/producing for public radio in Santa Fe.

My instruments are (mostly) as follows:

• Arthur, the baritone ukulele;
• Uther, the soprano ukulele;
• Craig, the Baldwin upright piano;
• some undervalued bongos;
• random household objects;
• miscellaneous noises I have learned to make.

Except where specifically noted, all compositions, arrangements, lyrics, instrumentation, vocals, and pitiful kitchen table recording/production are by me. 



katepowell

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