Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure over these

note - I do N O T take A N Y credit for this track and will it remove if I'm asked to by the original creator

The Hand That Feeds - by The Crane Wives

Ta-da!
Today
The headache finally goes away
The headache finally goes
Ta-da!
Today
I feel the harmony between
My heart and body and my brain
Everything will be okay

And if you ask what bird I want to be
I'll say a blue jay
If you ask what time I want to leave
I'll change the conversation
If you lean in close and kiss me
I won't mind
I’ll probably respond in kind

Ta-da!
Today
I find the energy to play
I find the energy
Ta-da!
Today
I hear a friendly melody
In every enemy refrain
Everything will be okay
Everything will be okay

Ta-da!
Today
I see the light across the bay
Ta-da!
Today
A sudden symphony
is somewhere out there trumpeting my name
Everything will be okay

And if you ask what bird I want to be
I'll say a blue jay
If you ask what time I want to leave
I'll change the conversation
If you lean in close and kiss me
I won't mind
I’ll probably respond in kind
I’ll probably respond in kind
I’ll probably respond in kind
I’ll probably respond in kind.


credits

released January 7, 2022
Music & lyrics by Stephan Nance
Arrangement by Stephan Nance

Piano/vocals - Stephan Nance
Percussion - Mathias Kunzli
Electric bass - Jeni Magana
Trumpet - Jackie Coleman

Mixing & mastering by Thaddeus Moore, Liquid Mixing & Mastering

Recorded in Portland, Los Angeles, and New York

Artwork by Rebecca DeMoss
Graphic design by Chad Lowe

Blue Jay

despair

despair (jazz version)

Fish in a Birdcage

Rule #1 - Magic

Through the Tides

Rule #7 - Angel Tango

A fox’s scream can eerily sound like a woman’s scream… why are there some who enjoy hunting them, then?
“Foxcry” explores the scary but real scenario that many feminine presenting folks face: others taking advantage of them, and finding pleasure in their pain. This song acts as a visceral callout to the “hunters” that revel in feminine suffering in a masturbatory way.

LYRICS:
He was a hunter boy-boy
Born with hunter arm-arms
Wringing geese necks
On his Papa’s farm-farm
He was a Mama’s boy-boy
He meant the woman no harm
Slinging pelts over his shoulder
But then he couldn’t shoot straight-straight
Something went wrong
He’d kill critters left and right but never pick ‘em up-up 
Hunter boy-boy to a hungry man-man 
Leaving Momma’s love leftover

You just love to see a woman suffer
When she cries you cup her face and say it’s to comfort
Come
As you slip your hands under your beltline
And use her tears to lubricate a good time
I can feel those eyes sinking into me
You hate it when I sing but you love it when I scream
I know why you shoot with your right hand free
Shoo, hunter boy, go skip your stones in a tree

And we foxes have a common phrase
If he can aim, he will shoot so scurry far away
But what about hunter boys, 
boys who play our game
Makin’ tiny cuts at fur until we’re not the same?

Well
We fair foxes learned to grit our teeth
If it’s screaming but not bleeding, then go back to sleep
In these woods, food is scarce, take what you keep
Be wary but don’t heed a hand that’s willing to feed 

You just love to see a woman suffer
When she cries you cup her face and say it’s to comfort
Come
As you slip your hands under your beltline
And use her tears to lubricate a good time
I can feel those eyes sinking into me
You hate it when I sing but you love it when I scream
I know why you shoot with your right hand free
Shoo, hunter boy, go skip your stones in a tree

There once was a hunter boy-boy
Taking part in hunter thing-things
Getting off to killing foxes ‘cause he liked their femme screams
And he’d say: it wasn’t my fault, fault, fault, was an archer’s paradox
Please still love me momma, momma, please still love me, momma
I didn’t mean to kill that fox

FOXCRY

FOXCRY (Dorm Demo)

jar of sand captures a moment in a bottle, traveling across the waves, all the way to you... reminiscent and rare, this dreamy pop gem pulls you out of the suburbs, into the town square, and leaves you with a summer romance for the ages.

jar of sand

My man is a stagnant water,
a mud-your-linen, cacklin’ bogland
Waded in his iris to my knees
I bathed in his mouth overnight
We drank moonbeams from oily skies
Come dawn, he begged me, “Please, love, never leave”

Hmm, hmm
Hmm, hmm,

I have hands for building altars,
Lips to pray to reckless gods
Yeah, I was made to be a devotee
His mangroves held me ‘till died
My body’s relic left behind
To fossilize beneath the willow trees

Hmm, hmm,
Hmm, Hmm,

Thrashing like Ophelia in my featherdown coat
Won’t someone teach me to love without it swallowing me whole
If to be loved is to be changed, I’m only worsenin’
Mosquito larvae in my ribs
He only loves me when I rot with him

I’m my father’s stubborn daughter
And I am no gentle lover
Only crown I wear is loyalty
My man is a stagnant water,
a mud-your-linen, cacklin’ bogland
And I’m forever stuck his bog body

Hmm, hmm,
Hmm, hmm

The Bog Bodies

The Bog Bodies (Dorm Demo)

November

Varied Thrush

Preybirds

Preybirds (The Watched Version)

Tracked and Mixed by Ian Gorman at La Luna. Mastered by Glenn Brown.

The Crane Wives - The Garden

The Crane Wives - Curses

The Crane Wives - Down the River

The Crane Wives - The Moon Will Sing

Wake up and look out the window
Half the yard is burning and
The other half is covered in snow

Is it Arbor Day?
Is it Boxing Day?
I’m sure today must be a
Minor holiday

Season’s grievings to us, one and all
Once we get the hang of it
We’ll forget to get upset

Bearing each unsettling new pall
So adaptable
We’re so adaptable

So adaptable
We’re so adaptable
As the world is ending
We can keep pretending

That none of this will matter in an hour
First we lose the polar bears
Now we lose the flowers

Not a summer’s day
Not a winter’s day
Not a summer’s day
Not a winter’s day
Shall I compare thee to
The Judgment Day?

Is it All Saints’ Day?
Is it All Souls’ Day?
Is it All Fools’ Day?
Is it All Saints’ Day?
Is It All Souls’ Day?
Is it All Fools’ Day?

Is it Arbor Day?
Is it Boxing Day?
I’m sure today must be a
Minor holiday

And the world is ending
And we keep pretending
That none of this will matter in an hour

---

Music & lyrics by Stephan Nance
Arrangement by Stephan Nance

Piano/vocals - Stephan Nance
Percussion - Mathias Kunzli
Strings - Yoed Nir
Upright bass - Jeni Magana
Backing vocals - Greta Gertler
Clarinet - Lisa Parrott

Mixing & mastering by Thaddeus Moore, Liquid Mixing & Mastering

Recorded in Portland, Los Angeles, New York, and Sydney, Australia!

Minor Holiday

I listen to far too much music and just found out soundcloud has 100x better sound quality than spotify and im basically feral over it.

indie chamber pop (bardcore)
pronouns: they/them

November

Sparkbird

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