HONEY, YOU'RE A FUNNY 'UN
This song was recorded as a demo with my phone on an out-of-tune Barnsley home upright grand, on Monday 9th September 2023 (probably in the afternoon, if I think about it).

I like this song, it's got some stupid rhymes, and I didn't make too many mistakes when I played it. That's good.

LYRICS
Well honey, you're a funny 'un
I'm crying like an onion
Hell, I even winced at that myself
Well maybe I'm no poet
Baby don't you know it
I need to find another source of wealth 

Well honey, what I done for you
I wrote a little pun for you
You'll never find a guy as sweet as me
Well, look at that old moon
He sucks his spoon in June
I've never heard of originality

Well honey, you're a rhymer
A dirty dog two timer
Ain't that just the way a couplet works
Well, baby I'm no dancer
And a pretty crap romancer
But I could do for you a cover of Love Hurts

Oooo I even thought of writing
Something that ain't a pastiche
The horse is in the alley
And I am still on the leash
Whatever that means
Sounds pretty unique

Well honey, I'm in love with you
But sometimes had enough of you
You're a top shelf wine and I'm a skint ol' bum
Will you share a glass 
With a chump who failed the class
I'm a lil dog who wants a tickled tum

Oooo I even thought of writing
Something that might make you weep
My body is in the alley
The blood's looking fake and cheap
Really makes me crease
My stagecraft is oh-so-weak

Well honey, call me Jesus
The fishermen all tease us
They say that I'm a Just Eat out of time
Well I'm just a plain ol' king 
And I wear a Primark ring
I nick a fiver from kids who wait in line

Oooo I even thought of writing
Something about the inexorable, endless, and desperate marching of time
But I ain't got the time
My eyebrows are on fleek
I'll see ya down the street

Well honey you're a funny one
And baby I'm a done one. 

Honey, You're A Funny 'Un [DEMO - 11/9/23 - piano and vocals]

A SKETCH FOR A LOVER
This song was recorded on Tuesday 10th November 2020 in my room at Etheldreda, Clare Colony, Cambridge, and was probably written that day. I think it was a case of trying to write something simple in a folksy way, and I got the first verse, liked it, and so carried on. 

Overall, I'm not sure if the song works as a cohesive whole lyrically, but feels pretty hermetically sealed instrumentally. It obtusely deals with some of the things going on for me at that time in 2020, when I myself was also fairly obtuse. The title was inspired by the Jeff Buckley compilation, Sketches For My Sweetheart The Drunk, which is made up of fragments for his album left unfinished by lieu of his untimely death. To me, my song here feels both complete and a sketch of a more complete song that I will never write.

In the recording, there are a few dodgy vocal lines where I'm still feeling out the melody, and I occasionally unintentionally mute the guitar strings with my fat fingers. Such is life.

LYRICS
I gave up writing songs for you
They didn't mean shit, you know it's true
I don't know how this one slipped through

I burned my books, I smashed up my guitar
I laid my fingers out in the hot tar
But somehow I still got this far 

The eulogy I wrote for you read well
But to all your friends it was such a tough sell
It's a shame I threw my selling suit on that fire
But these things do test us, oh what the hell

I etched your name into a fallen oak tree
It's those kinds of things you'll get from me for free
In faultless expressions of nowt I'm an authority

The council declared my heart a hazardous site
I thought the only hazard was it sounding trite
But the man in the hi-vis told me to fuck off and call it a night

The eulogy I wrote for you read well
But to all your friends it was such a tough sell
It's a shame I threw my selling suit on that fire
But these things do test us, oh what the hell.


A Sketch For A Lover [DEMO - 10/11/20 - acoustic guitar and vocals]

'WHAT A LAUGH!'
This song was recorded on Saturday 2nd January 2021, and was certainly inspired by being back home in Barnsley for Christmas and New Year. In the mix was also probably a nostalgia for times past: around that point I'm sure we were all heading into a third lockdown, and small-town fun and it's mirror despair seemed out of the window for the foreseeable.

All the characters are certainly real, but I've had to rearrange all their names and faces, as well as issue them postcards from the hanging. The chord progression is quite nice, and the piano playing is surprisingly adept from me. Maybe it's a little long and the piano fills laboured, but I could (and would) also argue that's just atmosphere baby. Generally, I think I did a good job on the lyrics.

LYRICS
The road awash with takeaways
That one and all are just about the same
Sad spotty lackeys that front them all
Take orders from the drunks no longer tame
Photos of excess for all five senses
Vibrantly fried, coloured blue by the sun
And the drunk takes issue with for what he's paying
And the lackey can't wait till he's done

So Friday night bleeds into Sunday morning
There's a god whose seen it all: he can't stop yawning
And the echoes of a song from some distant club
Hits them in the chest as they step out to light up
That beer splattered bastard, his Fred Perry collar's 
A noose round his dreams of a well earned dollar
The tarmac sways through his varifocal beer goggles
And he'd pawn his liqour jacket for late night cuddles
High up top in Quasimodo's lair
The moles come through the patio
The bastard hopes he's not there

The roads' awash with losers
That one and all are just about the same
Sad little boys in Ralph Lauren
Think the weekends just a hunting game
'What was her name?' asks one to the other
'How should I know? But she looked good'
Baggies passed around, the cold's gone AWOL
You know you shouldn't, but you could

So Friday night bleeds into Sunday morning
You think you've seen it all, can't keep off the yawning
And the echoes of a song from some distant club 
Mingles with last orders from the final pub
And in they fall, to the lackey's lair
Banquet orders taken with time to spare
Bash-addled Romeos are back at work before they know it
That emptiness, they'll never show it
High up top without a care
The kids' at home with their mum
The little boy knows he's not there

The road's awash with the despondent dead
Who one and all are just about the same
The lackey closes up the shop
For him it's neither fortune or fame
The moon once high has got down on its knees
As he scrolls through his phone
Onwards to Bethlehem, this dull creature stalks
Onwards, a ten minute stroll to home

So Friday night bleeds into Sunday morning
When people hear of this, ah they won't stop yawning
And the echoes of a song from some distant club
Maybe once he'd care, but he just don't give a fuck
And onwards it goes, forever and ever
'This is the life!' It's hell for leather
And the road is awash with nothing at all
Just the realisation you're pretty small
'What a laugh!'


'What A Laugh!' [DEMO - 2/1/21 - piano and vocals]

BRITISH SUMMER
This song was written on Wednesday 22nd July 2020, when I'm pretty sure I'd just come back from visiting a friend in London post-lockdown. Where it was very sunny. I arrive in Barnsley, and it starts pissing it down. So I wrote this song.

I think it's in drop-D tuning, and I wrote and recorded another song on the same day called 'Me Ol' Guitar'. Both have a similarly scatty (shitty) strumming pattern, although the other is a more complex song. You can hear the Neil Young influence in the harmonica here, and I nick a line from The Beatles and The Kinks, and put 'em together in a most Gallagher-esque style. I like the song and it's ravaged singing, even if it is kind of a non-starter.

LYRICS
Yesterday was sunny and now it looks like rain
It's really not that sunny, it's just a massive pain
I was gonna sit outside all day in nothing at all
You know, read a book and drink something cold

But now it's just raining, it's just raining
It's really draining when it's raining
Oh yeah

Oh hooray for merry England
Merry merry England
Hooray for the British summer
What could be funner than the British summer
What a bummer

I'm waiting for the sun
To put his sun hat on
What does he think he's doing
Taking so goddam long

Oh little darling, I'm lazing on a rainy afternoon
In merry little England, miserable England
Oh yeah, rainy England, oh yeah

Yesterday was sunny, and now it just looks like rain.


English Summer [DEMO - 22/7/20 - acoustic guitar, harmonica, and vocals]

TWO OLD MEN
This song was recorded on Friday 11th September 2020 in Barnsley, and it was the third take I did. Probably written that day.

I must have been listening to Simon & Garfunkel's 'Old Friends' from their album Bookends. It's definitely a thematic ripoff, if not a melodic one, but definitely has a Barnsley edge to it. Those two old men were certainly real, and I could place them for you, if not recall their names. Maybe there was more than two. You could give them the name of any couple of deeply-lined old boys standing and looking on a street corner, waiting for nothing in particular but the bitter end.

I think its a pretty neat recording with some niftyish piano. Lyrics are nice and concise as well

LYRICS
Two old men
Older than they remember
They're talking again

Stood outside the bank
Strong teas in their hands
As the day they start to dismember

They both remember James 
And how he slipped away
They said they'd look in on his wife
But now she's gone too
They missed the funeral
It was some day back in December

They laugh about the years
Chugged away like beers
And he offers him a smoke

They're silent for a bit
Then some kid with her young kids
Passes on the market's horizon
Their eyes follow her pain
And its not just the baccie stains
That tell them they're getting older

Two old men
You'll see them now and then
In silence their days slip away
Two young boys
That got lost in the noise
Of a lifetime with too much to say

He'd ask him how he is
But the answers just the same
It's never changed
Their heads are full of stories
Of their former glories
And they're at least worth a smile

He was gonna say something
But he took another drink
And he forgot what the words could be

So now they've drunk the silence down
It's time for them to go
They'll be back
They'll be back tomorrow.


Two Old Men [DEMO - 11/9/2020 - piano and vocals]

THINK I'VE LOST IT LATELY
This song was recorded on Thursday 6th October 2022, at a point when I wasn't really writing much in the way of music, or feeling anything creative whatsoever.

It was certainly a bit of a low point, which makes it being so short probably a small mercy. The lyrics are a wee bit abstract, but also they're concrete. When I was working at the Phoenix Arts Club, I did go take a shit whilst a drag queen was in a hoop onstage. 

Nice to hear my Gretsch doing it's thing, though. A bit of accidental fat finger muting from your man.

LYRICS
It's all slip-shod, fucked up away
I'm more tired than a poor boy should be
Mother, I think I'll take the nine-to-five
A lead-jacket, red-carpet into the sea

Oh hyperbole, I i love you baby
You've always got my back
What's the plan jack?
Think I've lost it lately

Something tells me this is only the start
Drag queen in a hoop, I'm taking a shit
Baby im the tax man, a U-boat tart
The door says vacant, but I'm engaged you tit

Still sat navel gazing
Poetry on the cubicle door
Nothing as comfy the floor
I think I lost it lately.

Think I've Lost It Lately [DEMO - 6/10/22 - electric guitar and vocals]

TUNED TO A WALTZ (OR A MINUET)
This song was recorded on Friday 18th December 2020. It's a later take and was written at least a few days before, as I definitely had a few goes at it on Monday 14th December 2020, and Tuesday 15th December 2020.

It's one of those songs that I feel that will be great somewhere in its life, but just something needs to change in it - probably instrumentation-wise, with a lighter touch and some strings etc. Treat her real delicate. Maybe the whole things needs to be rewritten and started again ... Obvious influences were Cohen's 'Take This Waltz', but it was also a kind of rewrite of a dialogue song I wrote in sixth-form that never went anywhere.

I later found out it was neither a waltz or a minuet; I thought it was in 3/4 time, but I am reliably informed it is in 6/8. So egg on my face. The basic chord progression is the classic I-VI-IV-V that formed so much of pop in the 50s and 60s. So much for originality.

LYRICS
Here we go ...

She said, 'Won't you sing something French for me?'
I said, 'You know I dont know any, mon ami'
She said, 'I just wanna hear something in the language of love'
I said, 'I speak the Queen's English, is that not for you enough?'
Enough, enough, enough, its enough for me

She said, 'I thought about leaving, you better drink up'
I said, 'For my drink I've been grieving and long for another sup'
She said, 'Let's go to the river and watch the Canadian geese'
I said to that old frosted mirror, 'Don't you know we'll freeze?'
Freeze, freeze, freeze, we'll freeze to death

And she looked, oh, rather peculiar
In that dusty old mirror
I could hardly bare to see her
Never mind try to free her 
She was locked inside an old radio set
Tuned to a waltz or a minuet

She said, 'Lets go into exile in a cul-de-sac somewhere'
I sai, 'I'd rather jump off the pier at Weston-super-Mare'
She said, 'Man, that's so silly, you better write it down'
I said, 'It's just an utterance, a now long lost sound'
Sound, sound, sound, sounds good to me

She said, 'Let's go dancing, and tear up the town'
I said, 'I only go dancing when you're not around'
She said, 'I can't stand the sight of you, dont you know I'm wearing a crown?'
I said, 'You do you, and I'll see you around'
Around, around, around, around we go

And she looked, oh, rather peculiar
In that dusty old mirror
I could hardly bare to see her
Never mind try to free her 
She was locked inside an old radio set
Tuned to a waltz or a minuet

And as the night got cloudy we could hardly see the show
She gently reassured me that soon she'd have to go
And that dusty old painting was looking rather Wilde
And a man in the crowd encouraged me to etch another smile
On the face of eternity
Well, it seemed like a pretty good hobby
It's advice like that you get for free

She said, 'Well I think we've said it all'
I said, 'Are you sure, let's consult St. Paul'
She said, 'St. Paul was someone I used to know
'But then he was blinded by love so I just had to go'
Go, go, go, it just goes to show

And she looked, oh, rather peculiar
In that dusty old mirror
I could hardly bare to see her
Never mind try to free her 
She was locked inside an old radio set
Tuned to a waltz or a minuet

Tuned to a waltz or a minuet
Tuned to a waltz or a minuet

I thank you!

Tuned to a Waltz (Or a Minuet) [DEMO - 18/12/20 - piano and vocals]

JIGSAW HEART

This song was recorded on Friday 4th December 2020. There are earlier takes from Friday 27th November 2020, which probably means I was working out further lyrics for the verses over that week.

It was written at another of those real low points that come around every now and again. It was certainly inspired by Dylan's 'It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)' and 'Idiot Wind', and is kind of a vicious song. I wrote it in drop D, with the high E also tuned to D, so it has a kind of drone sound to it.

LYRICS

Dicky wrote a load of words
I bet you've felt them all
You're the real deal, aren't you just?
You were waiting for the call
The simple things have got you hooked
Complexities too stark
Get your dot-to-dot, your paint-by-numbers
Make your jigsaw heart

If I felt it all like the way you feel
I think I would implode
Is there nothing in those reptile's eyes
That time cannot corrode?
Seasons change, you're the same
You're broken like the dark
Go buy a lamp, sit in the sun
Light up your jigsaw heart

How does it feel, ol' Mary M
Excluded from the feast?
You're passed over, Red Rum just lost
You're dolled up proper cheap
You stoned me once, you stoned me twice
I was laid up in the cart
The lady doth protest too much
Return your jigsaw heart

Up Market Hill you hung a cross
Up which you hung yourself
You couldn't reach the holy grail
Way up on the top shelf
Ribena juice or was it blood?
You drank to play the part
The curtain's stained, the silt's been drained
From your jigsaw heart

Chinney sweeps you've entertained
Their stories you've caressed 
Caravaggio, you worked for him
Then broke him at his best
And down I dove through Daniel's pools
To find that sunken ark
And Noah's corpse and all his beasts
Made up that jigsaw heart

Eternities been good to you
At least that's Moses told
That Schwarzkopf look all in your beard?
You know, nobody's sold
You're delicate, you're tough as nails
Sotheby's loves your art
Don't drown yourself again, my friend
They'll take your jigsaw heart

You're faithless to the last man alive
You're faithful to the beast
Your faith went up for sail one time
Down sychophantic street
The platitudes I bought from you
Were laced in Kipling's tarts
It's Poet's Corner and deadly fauna
Mix up your jigsaw heart

You've raided all the story books
And dropped yourself inside
When Cleo's mask fell of your face
You had nowhere to hide
You clutched a straw and spun no gold
Tell you where to start
Look at the box, that funhouse mirror
It's that jigsaw heart.

Jigsaw Heart [DEMO - 27/12/20 - acoustic guitar and vocals]

I write songs that are often about random things, sometimes sad things, and occasionally happiness comes through the mix.

On here I'm going to dump demos of songs that I have been writing for the last three years, just to have them somewhere. Some will be excrement, hopefully not all.

Inspired at various times and in positions by folks like Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Jarvis Cocker, Nina Simone, and Tom Waits. Sometimes I like the punk, and sometimes I like the blues. Are they the same, Sam?

Will Batty

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