1. |
So, Young Fanatic
03:44
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Fret not, help is on the way
Here comes the young Don Quixote
Billy no-mates, Billy Liar
With a frying pan to fire
Bacharach-David on the run
The song he’s writing’s No. 1
Won’t you change the record, please?
It makes me queasy, ill at ease
Each day this feeling’s worse and worse
The need to reduce life to verse
Mixed myth and rumination
Forced without an explanation
And I know I’m not the last or first
To realise that it’s a curse
Noise in, out and between my ears
Extrapolated hopes and fears
You held a record in your hand
And then you dreamt about a band
A magic institution to
Invoke a revolution
So, young fanatic, if you can,
If you value your lifespan
Get out early before you burst
This feeling just gets worse and worse
The novelty’s not yet worn off
So still the windmills scorn and scoff
'La recherche du temps perdu'
Obstructing all that’s left to do
Is it a bourgeois conceit, bland,
Or an attempt to understand?
Drowning in a well of ink
Can’t commit to swim or sink
Each day this feeling’s worse and worse
The need to reduce life to verse
Mixed myth and rumination
Forced without an explanation
And I know I’m not the last or first
To realise that it’s a curse
Noise in, out and between my ears
Extrapolated hopes and fears
You held a record in your hand
And then you dreamt about a band
A tragic institution to
Invoke no revolution
So, young fanatic, if you can,
If you value your lifespan
Get out early before you burst
This feeling just gets worse and worse
Worse and worse
It just gets worse and worse.
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2. |
Walking With Heather
04:03
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Surreptitious, we survey the scene
From the hill that hides in haar this morning
Cafés, galleries, gardens unseen
I’m falling hard, against all warnings
This feeling’s free and unfettered
You could knock me down with a feather when
I go walking with Heather in the rain
Up balmy raucous August Green Steps
Through Jane Street dawns into Kirk Street nights
Industrial summer showers wept
Into a day coruscating and bright
This feeling’s free and unfettered
And you could knock me down with a feather when
I go walking with Heather in the rain
I feel totally untethered
We never ever talk about the weather when
I go walking with Heather in the rain
The path was cracked
And the odds were stacked
Against us, no-one thought they’d win that bet,
But here we are with summer in our step and now
This feeling’s free and unfettered
And you could knock me down with a feather when
I go walking with Heather in the rain
I feel totally untethered
We never ever talk about the weather when
I go walking with Heather in the rain
In the rain.
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3. |
Towering Greyness
03:14
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Is there poetry in this?
The routine emptiness
The butchery of bus stop queues and
Chain shop fronts inane
The daily dolour drift
The self-sedating mist
The Stockholm syndrome of accepting
Everywhere’s the same
The towering greyness of the day
Today
Could only become deeper, darker,
If you went away
And reality this morning’s
A bit more than I can stand
It’s slipping right between my fingers
And I need a hand
Is there melody in this?
The routine hollowness
The coffee-clutching, pass-presenting
Countenances long
Can you traverse the abyss?
Without becoming Icarus
Or vanishing in repetition,
Sisyphean, gone
The towering greyness of the day
Today
Could only become deeper, darker,
If you went away
And reality this morning’s
A bit more than I can stand
It’s slipping right between my fingers
And I need your hand
If life is the illusion behind
Which our dream’s truths hide
Then I can’t quite work out if I’m
Inside or outside
And sometimes life can stumble and feel
More like stops than starts
- I lose all of my momentum
When we are apart
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4. |
Magpie
05:16
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Through the pane a solo magpie chatters
Bustles through the orange, russet, red
Who knows what it’s for and what you would do
If you sat upon that branch instead
If you sat upon that branch instead
Branches billow brutally another
Autumn’s brought this ceaseless chilly gale
When the trees have all of but been blown bare
Is everybody’s nesting bound to fail?
Is everybody’s nesting bound to fail?
The future was a golden place they promised
All the time to you when you were young
And now the golden leaves slip ever
Further from the silver sun
You wonder if
You wonder if
It’s ever going to come
Do you make the best out of the winter
Or do you hold out for another spring?
And is it really stupid and so reckless
To meanwhile dare to dance and soar and sing?
Why shouldn’t we dance and soar and sing?
The future was a golden place they promised
All the time to you when you were young
And though the golden leaves slip ever
Further from a silver sun
You wonder when
You wonder when
It’s finally going to come
One for sorrow
Two for joy
Three for a girl and
Four for a boy
Five for silver
Six for gold and
Seven for a secret
Never to be told
Eight for a wish and
Nine for a kiss
Ten for a bird
You must not miss
Eleven you’re never
Going to work it out
And twelve
To deal with that self-
Doubt
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Dora Maar Edinburgh, UK
Dora Maar is two Andrews, Erika and Grant. 'Urban Noir guitar pop', apparently. Second EP 'Flights' available on Soft Power Records now.
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