A collection of original songs by Chris Rogers - CDs and further information are available, on request, from tartanred@btinternet.com

Chris Rogers

A collection of songs by Chris Rogers and the Invisibles - CDs and further information are available, on request, from tartanred@btinternet.com

Chris Rogers and the Invisibles

A collection of instrumental tracks by The Invisibles - CDs and further information are available, on request, from tartanred@btinternet.com

The Invisibles

A collection of songs, mostly recorded live at the New Dawn Folk Club, Glasgow and the Portpatrick Folk Festival, together with a studio recording made at the East Kilbride Arts Centre. If you would like a copy on CD, please contact Chris Rogers at tartanred@btinternet.com.

Kagan

Traditional;
Arranged and produced by Chris Rogers.

Paranormality

Miner's Lifeguard

How are things with the rest of your family?
Are you keeping the way that you should?
I'm just writing to pay you the courtesy
Of explaining the way that things stood.
I suppose you were ready to sentence me
And condemn me for breaking your dreams,
But it's only the hope that you'll spare me the rope
That stops me falling apart at the seams.

I suppose I should really apologise
For all of the things I did wrong
And it's really not much of a compromise,
But we have to keep moving along.
What you wanted was never available,
I could never be part of your schemes
And we both know full well that one crack in the shell
Causes falling apart at the seams.

Could there be any fine words, or promises?
Could there be any reason, or rhyme?
When it all falls apart, in the beat of a heart,
Then the only solution is time.

Well, my cat says to send her condolences
And my friends say I've done the right thing.
There's no future in cold, empty silences
And who knows what tomorrow could bring?
The Boss, he's still singing his eulogies
Of cars, girls and passionate themes
And there's always the tune, we can sing to the moon
To stop us falling apart at the seams.

Lyrics and music by Chris Rogers.

Chris Rogers: Vocals, guitars, sampling.

Strange Things Happen

Falling Apart at the Seams

A Catalogue of Curiosities

Analogue

Long, long time, they've worked together
Through wind and weather, side by side
Honest toil for those, who need them
Who keep and feed them, from the soil
But, when the working day is over
Samson dreams of running free
Of jumping fences and of flying like the wind
Delilah knows to let him be

Day by day, they haul and carry
No time to tarry, such a heavy load
Speed the plough and guide the harrow
Straight as an arrow, then down that road
But, when the working day is over
Delilah dreams of running free
Of chasing rainbows and of dancing on the sand
Samson knows to let her be

Light and steel serve to remind us
That love and kindness show the way
Blood and bone have finer fettle
Than oil and metal, come what may
And now, the working day is over
Both can dream of running free
Of quiet shelter and of lazing in the sun
And all the world will let them be

Lyrics and music by Chris Rogers.

Chris Rogers: Vocals, guitars, keys.

Tatterdemalion

Samson Dreams

Untitled

Lazy

Kaleidoscope

Ar Lan y Mor

Rise

Arcade #1

You change your mind, like you change your clothes.
A look to find which way the wind blows.
You seek the warmth of the summer sun,
To shine a light on Chameleon.

And all of those, who cheat and lie,
To take the rose, before it dies,
Will feel the shame and the lancing thorn,
And share the blame with Chameleon.

And those who cry, and scream in pain,
Are never heard, or seen again.
The final hope, of an end to fear,
Is washed away by a flood of tears.

A time will come, when the colour-blind
Will beat the drum, for an open mind.
The battle's lost, but the war is won,
So count the cost for Chameleon.

Lyrics and music by Chris Rogers.

Chris Rogers: Vocals, guitars, sampling.

Chameleon

Dichotomy #2

Finesse

Cascade

Stratus

Eventide

Voyager

Dyad #1

Dyad #2

Eternal #1

Eternal #2

Words by Charles Causley;
Music by Chris Rogers and the Invisibles;
Arranged and produced by Chris Rogers.

Armistice Day

I'm doing alright now, I'm feeling ok
I'm sleeping at night and I'm living by day
And all of the dark clouds have drifted away
I'm doing alright now, I'm feeling ok

I'm counting the hours, it isn't so hard
So, thanks for the flowers and thanks for the cards
And all of the boxes are out in the yard
I'm doing alright now, I'm making a start

I'm doing alright now, it's better this way
I'd give it a voice, but there's not much to say
The end of the night means the dawn of the day
I'm doing alright now, I'm feeling ok
I'm doing alright now, I'm feeling ok
I'm doing alright now, I'm feeling ok
I'm doing alright now

Lyrics and music by Chris Rogers.

Chris Rogers: Vocals, guitar, sampling.

Doing Alright

An old man lies sleeping in yesterday’s news
In charity jacket and mortuary shoes
With nothing to live for and nothing to lose
Since Digby stopped paying his dues

There’s a hole in his hat, where the rain hammers in
His bones feel like ice and he’s soaked to the skin
His constant companion’s a bottle of gin
It’s Digby’s original sin

But, when he’s dry, he’ll sing his favourite tunes
“As Time Goes By”, or “Fly Me to the Moon”
And then he’ll cry, and drink to ease his pain
And the circle will start once again

He swears in his sleep, as he curses the past
Those short spells of happiness, doomed not to last
When life’s little treasures were still in his grasp
For Digby, they went by too fast

But, now and then, his dreams are full of smiles
And sleep’s a friend, that helps him rest awhile
And think back, when the future promised more
Than Digby had ever before

An old man lies still, in the pale morning light
His dreams at an end, at the dead of the night
His broken-down heart simply gave up the fight
Goodnight to you, Digby, goodnight

Lyrics and music by Chris Rogers.

Chris Rogers: Vocals, guitar, bass, keys.

Digby

Trad./Arr. Kagan.

Martin Dodd: vocal, bouzouki;
John Davis: backing vocal, guitar;
Chris Rogers: backing vocal, guitar.

Recorded live at the New Dawn Folk Club.

The Rout of the Blues/The Lancashire Lads

Trad./Arr. Kagan.

Martin Dodd: vocal, guitar;
John Davis: harmonica;
Chris Rogers: guitar.

Recorded live at the New Dawn Folk Club.

The Holy Ground

Trad./Arr. Kagan.

Martin Dodd: vocal, guitar:
John Davis: backing vocal, guitar;
Chris Rogers: guitar.

Recorded live at the New Dawn Folk Club.

If I Were a Blackbird

Words by Martin Dodd, music Trad./Arr. Kagan.

Martin Dodd: vocal, guitar;
John Davis: harmonica;
Chris Rogers: guitar.

Recorded live at the New Dawn Folk Club.

Cold, Grey Sea

Trad./Arr. Kagan.

Martin Dodd: vocal;
John Davis: backing vocal;
Chris Rogers: backing vocal.

Recorded live at the New Dawn Folk Club.

Bonnie Glenshee

And we could climb the highest hill
To share the wonder of a moment standing still
And try to lock it all away
Fade softly from the blue into the grey
As we’re waiting for the dawning of the day

And we could sail the widest sea
To find a feeling, that we are what we can be
And chase the clouds across the sky
Turn circles, as we watch white dragons fly
As we’re praying that the world will pass us by

We try, so hard, to find a world beyond our own back yard
But when we’re there, we shelter from the promise of the fair
Still looking for another cross to bear

And we could lie in fields of dreams
To feel that nothing can be ever as it seems
And make a wish upon that star
As we realise exactly who we are
Just hoping that we never fall too far

Lyrics and music by Chris Rogers.

Chris Rogers: vocals, guitar, keys.

Taken from the album "Tatterdemalion".

And We Could

When you reach the point of no returning
And warm your hands on crosses burning
As the voice inside your head screams louder
You wave your flag, you’re feeling prouder
Than you did before, but that’s not surprising
For the path you walk has no compromising
You’d like to think that you’re the future
But, if that’s the case, we’ll all fall down

You’re all mother’s pride and England’s glory
The weak, right hand of dope and Tory
You’re a twisted knight in tarnished armour
With your bag of snakes, you could play the charmer
You’re the keeper of the poisoned chalice
With an extra dose of lies and malice
And, if we should sip that witch’s potion
That you’re selling us, we’ll all fall down

Here’s a warning to this generation
Who may feel no cause for celebration
We’ve been there before, we paid our penance
When we served our eighteen year-long sentence
You may love the lords and woo the ladies
As you press the flesh and you kiss the babies
But you won’t fool those, who still remember
For, if they forget, we’ll all fall down

Lyrics and music by Chris Rogers and the Invisibles;
Arranged and produced by Chris Rogers.

Dragonfly

All Fall Down

Well, I'm here, if you want me, and I'm not, if you don't
And there's really no difference, if you will, or you won't
I don't sing for my supper, I won't beg for your scraps
No more tugging the forelock, no more doffing the cap
All our yesterdays, the very best of ways
Are over and not coming back
It's no mystery, call it history
This cat has climbed out of the sack

If you're looking for comfort, you can find a new bed
Where you'll lie at your leisure, as you lay down your head
I'll be out in the moonlight, I'll be under the stars
I’ll be burning the candle in the pubs and the bars
It's so bittersweet, all that old deceit
Is finally starting to fade
Call it common sense, when the recompense
Is more than the price that you paid

Well, I'm here, if you want me, and I'm not, if you don't
And there's really no difference, if you will, or you won't

Lyrics and music by Chris Rogers and the Invisibles;
Arranged and produced by Chris Rogers.

All Our Yesterdays

Slumgum

A Drop of Nelson's Blood

There’s a man that I see, drives a Volvo estate
Red, white and blue, three Ks on the plates
He dreams of the south, the Palmetto State
Calls it Americana
Over in Charleston, the local pipe band
Is all dressed in tartan, the cloth of their land
They’ll play “Flower of Scotland” until they can’t stand
In honour of Caledonia
Two nations, one language, divided by sea
The hame of the Hielans, the land of the free
Have traded their cultures and old memories
For baubles and bangles and beads

Would Andrew Carnegie, John Muir and the rest
Of those pioneer spirits, who gave it their best
Have imagined the state of their nation’s bequest
Would be this Americana
McDonald’s and Starbucks, Trump and Faslane
Disney and Imax and more of the same
In this fifty-first statehood, but not in their name
For Motherwell’s not Montana
Two nations, one language, divided by sea
The hame of the Hielans, the land of the free
Have traded their cultures and old memories
For baubles and bangles and beads

Here, in this bedroom, a Taffy, who writes
Is dreaming of Shay and warm Chelsea nights
Of tea in the Village and Broadway’s bright lights
And his own Americana
Two nations, one language, divided by sea
The land of my fathers, the home of the free
Have traded their cultures and old memories
For baubles and bangles and beads

Lyrics by Chris Rogers;
Music by The Invisibles;
Arranged and produced by Chris Rogers.

Americana

Aglaea

Aki No Koe

Three

Patupaiarehe

Four

Tsiranapogh

Ysbrydion

Aerialist

Free music for free thinkers.
CDs available, on request, from tartanred@btinternet.com
Thanks for listening.

Topher Gilpin

Pinned to spotlight

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