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Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of HELP, Dove From Above, Any Questions, Neck Of The Woods, Music For Garden Centres, Bottlenose (Single), Satellite Towns, Rollover, and 65 more.
1. |
The Fireman
03:24
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I was on speaking terms
Your world at one has been and gone
Well the fire’s back in the jar
And the fire’s back in my heart
That might be a better place to start
We just fought in a distasteful morning
After sinking the bar
Pleasantry limbo
How low can you go
And will you throw shapes like a Roller-rinker?
Bargaining with bassett hounds
Licorice Lynx and loud just like the party grounds
Well the fire’s back in the lamp
And the lamp is back in the cave
But I’m the chief, I’m closed all day then open sesame
Lost via fatal recline
Or a momentary sensory collapse
I’m not sure how I know
How the inferno can be fanned
I’ll be your private fireman
I am the fireman
I am the fireman
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2. |
Bottlenose
04:11
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Helen of Troy sits comfortably in the passenger seat
With the British numberplate
It reads: W Z V - 1 6 2
Did I step up the plate, step up to the plate for you?
Oh Helen what do you know of this world?
(I know nothing)
My brief stint in the wilderness wasn’t dull
I found a sword and I followed the torch lights to trouble
Yes Yes
Bates’ Paradise
Lethargic lips tip the glasses
With Robert Fripp style guitar lines
Ladies Of The Road
Really ugly references
Something feels finished, something feels done
It’s not the kettle, it’s not the scum
Oh Helen, what do you know of this world?
(I know nothing)
You changed form in the space with a second floor
“Earth Customs” in early computing display
I found your double upstairs
She was carrying THREE PINTS AT ONCE!
She was living in the suit of a dead woman
She was swimming in the vase at the table
Alright, really loopy loopy loo
Lucy Lucy Lucy on the emergency mush
I pulled up a seat and it turned into a dolphin
Dolphins are rubbish
Dolphins are rubbish,
Get their noses stuck in the bottle
Helen’s nose is trapped in the bottle
Look!
Lucy’s nose is trapped in the bottle
Like a dolphin
If you’re a mammal then get on land!
Like a dolphin
Helen’s nose is trapped in the bottle
Lucy’s nose is trapped in the bottle
I put my nose - - - I trapped it in a bottle
Bottlenose
Bottlenose
Bottle knows what I’m talking about
Bottlenose , bottlenose
Bottle knows what I’m talking about
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3. |
Monk Strap Shoes
04:18
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I don’t translate mucho absoluto
My handler knows the zone
But I’m the only thing still standing in her living room
Looking kind of promenade strune
I don’t like to contemplate your phases
Promotion mode today and I’m back on the sphere
Like the Mir space station
Face it, swivel and dive
Sometimes it pours from me like I’m Jesus’ side
Maybe that’s debatable but please take me alive
You were solar eclipsing through the looping whips
Feeding of the five thousand blitzkreig lips as per
As she carried a lamp through the lake of despair
And she fake I.D’d all the pastel shirts there
She leant me a book that I’ve never fucking read
On my literary list because it smells like her bed
It puts me on a play that I can’t comprehend
It’s a Stonehenge
They say, don’t they?
“Everybody’s got a great novel in them”
They say, don’t they?
“Everybody’s got a great novel in them”
It’s honky tonk night at the yellow chateau
Where the sailors fight and the steam plumes blow
And skeletal trees bow so low
They build femme fatales in the six feet snow
In Hannah Barbera backdrop blue
I found the jewel that belonged to you
Not like I dived down into an icey black stew
I came back to the room in just my Monk Strap shoes
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4. |
Mothering Sunday
04:29
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Saturday morning of a Mothering Sunday
I bought a card and a bouquet
Tonight might tear me in two
Tonight might be the making of me and you
I thought ahead
I bought a card and I bought a bouquet
And a bottle of wine for 9.99
It’s very presence might make me throw up come tomorrow
All prepared for mothering Sunday
Sunbeams sweep across the builders merchant
I’m in my sunglasses, in the passenger seat
Waiting for my dad and his wooden beams
Molten lava steering wheel
And down past the R. Finnihy signs
Dad says “They’ve done this road”
Then we’re picking up the bits
In the cutting edge cool of the industrial fridges
I won’t be eating with them tonight
Tonight I’m fending for myself
Dining in the light
Of that boutique chip van neon
Even if it tears me in two
Tonight might be the makings of me and you
Aftershave suit of armour
And polyester chainmail
That no Cupid’s arrow can penetrate
Exuding Roger Moore
But a younger Roger Moore
Like The Saint Roger Moore
A Roger Moore who could do a set at the Comedy Store
I know it seems like I have a brittle personality
But I’d like to be much more than just an accent to you
If only you knew I had the initiative
To buy the wine (9.99), the card and the bouquet
The Saturday morning of a Mothering Sunday
Maybe tonight is the night of the crescendo
The very last entry, The Final Countdown
Maybe after tonight it will be all trips to Europe
And our mothers swapping numbers
The end of my singleton career
Or you could obliterate my chances of advancing
Kiss a sportsman and slag off my dancing
Whatever madness lies ahead tonight
At least I got the bouquet and the bottle of wine (9.99)
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5. |
Any Questions
04:19
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Made it to the bar
Made it out the rain
I love the buzz of a natural disaster
Fall into your arms like a kid into a pond
I’ll keep the table warm when you go smoke in the arbour
New sensations; “…any questions?”
Well then, the answer’s no
I’m not fussed about expanding horizons
But I’ll break it to you slow
If the streets there weren’t flooded we could go to that rock and roll show
“…Any questions?”
We laid in bed until a ridiculous time
Nearly a sensible hour for the following day
Please don’t pursuade me to release this fling
And turn it serious
The visual cues that dissolve in the charts
Drink mixologists in, out of coconut halves
Hanging over like debt in a student set-up
Complete with a Rocky Horror Picture Show VHS
“…any questions?”
Rolled round the settee for what seemed like an age
And then you show me my cage, “…any questions?”
When your hand aint where you left it before
When your band aint where you left them before
Are your hands where you left them before?
Are your hands where you left them before?
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6. |
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Me and the girls
Looking for a fast-track minister
We don’t care about authentificating documents
The streets tonight look like the front of Bend Sinister
We want to make it official
With a solid gold “O”
You aint the planning type
Shimmy down the escape pipe on the gable end
You’re a guy’s best friend
You’re your own bossa nova
The galaxy is a blank canvas
I’d love to put a band in it
If the invite’s in invisible ink
You know I had a hand in it
When the mind sweeper sweeps you off your feet
When B.3’s mistakes are A.1’s latin beat
When the top and the base of the pyramid meet
I didn’t think you liked things neat
Tied up in bows and left on your seat
You’re the sorceress of the lost weekend
You’re a guy’s best friend
You’re your own Bossa nova
You’re the back seat lover on the lunar rover
Moody Blues light show on a gold October night
Lose a lot of energy
Lose a lot of gallantry
Private landing strip for when the blip goes shambles
Rivetting the fuselage for when you come on over
You’re your own, you’re your own bossa nova
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7. |
Rollover
03:50
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Just be alert for adverse camber
Meeting the parents, turning on the charm
Brought an oil drum for the palms
Spending hours in Anxiety Palace
Getting out-lapped by the social virtuosos on the course
(Oh, roll over)
Follow the zero car into the storm
Oh, roll over
I liked you better when you lived on your own
September 18th 2005
There was an accident on the track
And he didn’t get out alive
Your sister parachuted in
Panther pink dressing gown and rollers in
Centrefold poses on the fold out
She’s the Queen of the Underworld
All her stone imitations hold a sheaf of grain
Married a Kellogs brother
At the Battle Creek Health Sanitarium
(Oh, roll over)
Let’s follow the zero car into the storm
Oh, roll over
I liked him better in his fictional form
Oh, roll over
He hit the curb and lost his motor control
Oh, roll over
Hopping the bonnet like he was David Soul
Flattening me in factory rollers
I can feel it in my molars
Stolen moments at a family function
An unseen touch that says it’ll be alright
So this is your Supervalu family!
And then you wanted to get wild
Michaela Strachan style
But I think your dad gets his ideas
From “Plain Facts For Old and Young”
I’m fitting an anecdotal roll cage for next time
(Don’t you worry)
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8. |
F Stop
01:39
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F stop without warning
Pilot license for light flying over head with a reference
On the great estate where they shot Barry Lyndon
I binned evidence I’d been doodling her
F stop and shutter and this is where the crack will whip
Pull her out, no I know it’s pretend but it’s too real this end
Like I said, I’m a friend
F stop without doubt
The light is flooding the chamber
Trust me if time travel was possible,
I would have already gone back and corrected our course
F stop and ISO pull up to the 400
I want all the bells and whistles
Call the fitters and the marzipan miniature mould makers
Jonathan Frakes will re-tell our mystery encounter
In the mount board landscape cactus outcrop
F stop
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9. |
Link Road / Link Wray
03:41
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They know not what they say
Link Wray
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10. |
Part Timers
02:43
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When we were bad at this
Solarised and easily pleased
You wouldn’t get me in the bay no way
But now I’m like a merperson
What time have we now?
What time have we now?
When we were bad at this
Drama proof and easily satisfied
It was our choice to go part time
Stop “funneling stagnant affection to each other”
My words, not hers
Not words you’d hear in real life
But I signed myself out for the long haul
It’s really hard t - - -
It’s really hard
What time have we now?
What time have we now?
? ? ? Birds + The bins ? ? ?
Rocks see implosion ? ? ?
Deep inside
Deep Deep
Deep in the plunge pool of light
Two part timers
Naive as the nights then were long
What time have we now?
What time have we now?
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11. |
Satellite Towns
08:56
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Pylons rising on the chalk lines in the sky
Highlights on the high rise
You thought you’d find them here
Your parents are commuters
And at night the street lights
Stand in the amber
I don’t come from a satellite town
I come from two places
I’m a two piece suite, I’m a two part drama
I’m from a little village called Frankby
It has a farm and a playschool
And a dog that put me off them for life
I’m also from Kenmare
Yeah I know, technically I never lived there
Yeah I know
Don’t think I don’t know
Schools and pubs and first bits of love
Spaces where fires start
Loin fires for the dominant forces
Figures on the lawn
Figures in a Sue Tompkins way
Anyway, I’m getting away from myself
You come from a satellite town
You come from a satellite town
Where pylons rise on the chalk lines
Where blood exits the wrist
Exits the slip road and follows the signs
Commuter parents and early skin shedding
Bedding and a lacklustre childhood
Early Arcade Fire changes
Stand in the amber
With your busy commuter parents
(Pop plastic, pop it in the micro)
You come from a satellite town
Hard black tarmac with bike tread imprints
Back garden views from the washing up bowl
80s build,
Your mother has an 80s build
Used to be in the actors guild
Your family tree creeps up by Carlisle
Snakes out to the West Indies
I’m with you in your flat
The cactus on the window has a name
I’ve got unfinished feelings for you
My shirt’s heavy with your bedroom must
I don’t know if I can meet your mum and dad
I don’t know if I can handle your satellite town
And squeeze into your single bed
Lying in the amber
Highlights on the high rise
Who cares about time
When there’s an infinite stream
An unsatisfied longing for terrestrial TV
They were the best laid plans
Now the schedule’s in your hands
TFI Friday and The Riverboat Song
Means nothing
Did it ever mean something?
SM:TV Live, Wonky donkey
Means nothing
Did it ever mean something?
Did it ever mean something?
Or was it just a phantom island
Like Plato’s Atlantis
Trapped in the amber
Highlights on the high rise
Never thinking Gerri would be the first to go
Highlights on the high rise
Trapped in the amber
We are the children of the satellite towns
We keep on f - - - - -
We are the children of the satellite towns
We keep on f - - - - -
We are the children of the satellite satellite
Satellite, by Lou Reed Satellite of Love
Listen to the Bowie vocals go
Satellite of Love
Satellites in the sky
Satellite by The Kills, do you rememeber that song?
When that came out, I was infatuated with you
And you were infatuated with me too . . .
. . . And then you weren’t
That was on the rebound
Rebound, sounds, the sound
Of the Bowie vocals
On Satellite of Love
The sound of the Bowie vocals
On Satellite of Love
I was unlucky in love
But then I found the backing vocals
On Satellite of Love
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Laurie Shaw Kenmare, Ireland
Laurie Shaw is a Wirral-born songwriter and producer. He now dwells in Ireland where he records from his mountain retreat. He often gigs in Cork, Dublin and the Merseyside area. He has released around 100 albums to date (all of which are available on request). ... more
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can't find the words to capture the beauty of tra phaidin's music, but i'll try: mystical Celtic folk-jazz meets classical post-rock. Slainte!!! 🎻🎺🥁
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