1. |
Driving Away
06:06
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* * * * *
One more for the gallows, one more for the hill
We bloodied our hands in the soil, and we’re digging still
(and from his side…)
Scaffold, Battle, Rose and Rising Sun, feed the carrion crows with the spoils of what we’ve done. Lost again, tired, the rope burns my hand. ‘This we must do above all things’ a command
“Oh! you of little faith, where did you doubt? On the mountain you fainted. Did you see another way?”
Carve out the mountain, meandered a different path. A river of Greater Questions to slake palms in the desert. Where the noose is no longer a necklace, still waters run deep. Only by chance omission do we string you high.
“Oh! You of troubled tongue, what have we left out? Did we answer correctly? Are we driving you away?”
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2. |
One-Two-Eight
07:20
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* * * * *
By the waters we coronated a succession of fickle kings, their gains put paid to the lineage. The end of the world does no good to us, it does no good to us now.
We loved, now it’s going away. Bernicia, bring the belle skies back. Will the next one be? Will the next one…
Lauderdale. Lauderdale. The dead give away. In Lauderdale.
We watched them sail in. Colinda, have you proved yourself yet? Trawl up and tell out, if only we could walk but we’re running still, we’re running still.
We lost, now we’re running away. Bernicia, bring the dark clouds back. Will the next one be? Will the next one…
Lauderdale. Lauderdale. The dead give away. In Lauderdale.
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3. |
Somebody for Everything
06:23
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* * * * *
Nineteen Ninety-Six looks back at us from its place in the past and it says ‘well, did that go the way you expected, the cavalier entertainment, the new optimism, the rush?’ Well… yes and no. And if he would have loved it, angry, pointing out with his headphones on, I would have loved it too. I think that we all would. At least things would have been different then. Then that summer might not have cast such a pall (a Paul to the ground), the showers, the champagne, above him now. That moment of potential realised finally.
There’s a moment when we tip the scales. For Somebody.
I looked out over metal mountains in Two Thousand and Eight. They were still building bits of imagined history then, as everything else around it died. And it felt like a moment for movement, to enact the kind of change we said we thought we wanted. And we could have stepped outside of the graves we’d been digging for ourselves. But it’s easier to imagine the end of the world, so I watched the mountains rebuild, I think that we all did. Another ending eating its own tail.
There’s a moment when we tip the scales. For Somebody.
For everything, there is somebody.
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4. |
Psychopomp
06:57
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5. |
Cannon Street
08:52
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* * * * *
“Where are the men of Cannon Street? Are they all in prison now? Where are the men of Cannon Street?”
We settled here, like sediment we turned to stone, we were settled here.
We were welcomed here. When the old ways dwindled, oh my Lord, we were welcomed here.
There were a million molten rivers, enough for everyone, and each fed the shell of the chrysalis. Now I hardly recognised myself in the colours of the wings. And everyone is telling me I’m imagining. Then..
“Where are the men of Cannon Street? Are they all in prison now? Where are the men of Cannon Street?”
We disappeared. They took our ore around the world until it disappeared.
We’re forgotten here, aye and there were men and sons of men, all forgotten here.
There were a million molten rivers, it was enough for everyone, and each fed the shell of the chrysalis. Now I hardly recognised myself in the colours of the wings. And everyone is telling me I’m imaginary. Then..
“Where are the men of Cannon Street? Are they all in prison now? Where are the men of Cannon”
[We build this world with our iron and steel and our bone… in every metropolis]
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6. |
A Forest at Night
05:08
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* * * * *
It was never a crossing, it was just another part of the whole
It was never so liminal, we stopped there and counted our blessings
Amid the spines, the spines, hold hand the Thames and the Rhine
Safe for the climb, the climb, the dunes belying our solitude, our sovereignty
It was ever this beautiful, the trees tripping down from the coast
The salt marshes glittering, the lion lays down in the sand
We sharpen our spears, our spears, from the straightest limbs of the bough
Eroded by years and years – oh, Storegga retreat, I don’t think that we meant this…
We’re an island no more
An island no more
Drain out the Doggerland
A Forest at Night and the howl of the habitat
Hinterland.
Glacier trickle, make low-lying islands
Oh, stay our hand
Everything we’ve ever wanted we took it for granted, and
If only we could still walk…
It was never utopia. The mammoth, the kracken, the jackal, the pride
All gouged chunks away
The gradual sinking, the swell of the tide
It’s ours, it’s ours, we’re the kings of a desperate empire
The sword and the scythe, the scythe
Oh, scimitar slice me a kingdom, I’m alone
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7. |
Ines
06:24
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* * * * *
Knock five seconds off the doomsday clock,
we’re getting closer to midnight.
And when the last bomb blasts, we’ll be there at last,
we’re getting closer than we’ve ever been.
“I mean, she looks dead happy in the photograph”
“It’s a fake Polaroid in a beer garden”
“She’s holding up her glass, and she’s starting to laugh”
“But I can see right through it”
What does she love about him? What can she love about him? Alright, she might have known him for a whole half-life, but there’s an Armageddon coming”
* * *
“There’s a photo from a holiday, a weekend city break.”
“They’re just coins in a pool as an offering”
“There’s a message from him mam and dad, he can’t keep his eyes off her”
“It’s inconclusive… it’s inconclusive”
I’m watching updates on the mushroom cloud with her name on refresh. There’s a nuclear winter that’s coming on, but we could wrap up warm together.
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ines, turn out the light.
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8. |
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* * * * *
Now we’re alone, left with the heritage of what was done
Now we’re alone, now there’s nobody left to cry home
And the coastline is glass, the coastline is brick, and it’s weathered
We squandered the chance at last, dole out the punishment, measured
Oh, Colinda, what’s below us? Do you remember the silver darlings and how they glittered? And oh, they were dying long before we poisoned the pool. And if the cleric could walk along this shattered side, he’d catch his throat at what was done.
Now we’re alone left with the heritage of what was done
So come, common bomb, lay down a limpid shroud over what was done
We surrounded the world, sounded alarms, then we grew older, a little wiser
We wanted a solitude, a place that was just for ourselves
Oh, I remember we hewed out the stone, return to the island, make each one a fortress. Make rust and clay, perish the soil, let bickering sounds die. The salt grass is coming, the autumn is settling in. We dug to the depths of our graves, and we’re digging still.
Now we’re alone left with the heritage of what was done
So come, common bomb, lay down a limpid shroud over what was done
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The Palps Newcastle Upon Tyne, UK
[Good, wholesome, ethical music for fans of intellectual lo-fi prog
rock.]
The Palps' music has been described as "quietly monumental" and "cinematic", and at other times redolent of Sabbath and Sonic Youth.
... more
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