Name: Concubine by Slanders
Duration: 2 min 38 s
Description: This was recorded at home in Dublin on a Tamscan, a beat up Hohner Acoustic and a free Monday afternoon. This is tuned down a full step and two vocals and played live. All feedback welcome.

Half Dark

Luxury

This was recorded at home in Dublin on a Tamscan, a beat up Hohner Acoustic and a free Sunday afternoon. This is played on the 4th Fret in a Trad tuning DADGAD

Crocodile Smiles

This was recorded at home in Dublin on a Tamscan, an electronic drum kit, electric, a beat up Hohner Acoustic and a free Saturday afternoon. All feedback welcome.

Two Step

This was recorded at home in Dublin on a Tamscan, a beat up Hohner Acoustic and a free Monday afternoon. This is tuned down a full step and two vocals and played live. All feedback welcome.

Concubine

Lawn

The Sea

U
 
can you imagine falling into the letter U
with slippy sides
down its edges you slide
 
because the top half of my skull has been sliced off
upturned

cut clean through
its curved up like the letter U
like a big bowl of brain goo
on it i chew
 
when i am finished
there is a sticky substance stuck
to the carved curve of it 
 
so
cupped and cuddled up in the U 
cocooned
 
i scoop and scrape up the last globs of it
             (like eating a cadburys cream egg with a spoon)
 
and leave my head open and upturned like a 
bowl
or bottle capped lid
 
U replaced my brain goo
with the top tenth of an iron sphere
heavy
             (and complacently concave) 
in the smoothed bone it sits

tips and slips
placing pressure on the edges
makes the sides dip
 
so
cocooned in the curved cosy cup of the letter U
i think of U

///////////////////////////


U span the top of my head like a bottle cap on your finger 
U sliced the top of my skull off
U flipped it on its head 
U span it round like a pin wheel 

         (leaving its empty carcass bobbing about on the table)
 
U whacked the side of it to watch it rock 
U cracked me open like a bottle of pop

left my lid hanging off the top

swaying in a hollowed out bus 
theres a painted silver lady dancing 
pouring spirits and off brand coke into plastic cups
the thin kind that bend inwards with a squeeze
strangers giggling melting smiles with ease

a concoction brews of love and beer
eyes pave bonds without stranger fear

theres an unspoken glossy eyed connection 
a warmth without the need for a touch 
and as a man sits down on a worn out stool next to the worn out piano 
squeezed into the gaps of the hollowed out bus

theres silence

he then presses the pads and they heat up in the moonlight
familiar songs  
set a memorable highlight

still,
in the beginning 
im sat there
noticing the seats surrounding are made of that vinyl 
the scritchy kind that make that fizzy sound 
when you drag your finger nails across it

my eyes are glossing over
and in an attempt to stop my house of cards from caving in

i look up 

skin is faded and stained thin
capped off scraps dangle from thes soles of wornout shoes
wine stained teeth still blind with shine in the gaps of grins
warmth is bustled up in envelopes
with the flaps sealed tightly in
souls dance through familiarity 
knuckles glow numb with the worn out breeze 
it flits through the bits of the buses broken windows
brown rum burns our throats with bliss and ease

so I’m sitting there
singing christmas songs with strangers in the middle of august
someones just found a cheap guitar that’s missing a string
and all I can do is chin up, smile and sing

because all of a sudden I get this overwhelming feeling that there’s a warmth in not knowing
in just going with the fluctuations of it

because we all know what ‘it’ is
we all hold it there
in the deep dark pits of our heads
artists together
living on the need to please

but right here right now 

i’m just holding out for ease

ease

The Swimsuit Edition

This Robot

Thanks for visiting. 
Irish Musician based in Dublin. 
Write, Sing and Play all instruments on the tracks. Usually recorded on a layered basis on a Tamscan live with no editing. I've a electronic drum kit, a beat up 1950s Hohner Acoustic Guitar, a non descript electric and the odd free weekend to record. Feedback and Comments welcome

Concubine

Slanders

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Lisa Landers

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