1. |
This Girl Is Taking Bets
03:35
|
|
||
|
This girl is a stencil of a brushstroke in the rain
She's a ghost of the city, she's a body through the windscreen
This girl is the snowfall where the spring should have been
She's the stains on the pages of a top shelf magazine
This girl is a black eye, she's a bruise on your knee
She's the ashes of the people you really meant to be
This girl's the resurrection, she's the comeback
She's the absinthe and whiskey, she is poetry and Prozac
This girl is taking bets, this girl's a silhouette, can't you see?
This girl is the flutter of fake lashes in the mirror
She's a ragged edged fedora or a Spanish souvenir
This girl is the clean cut, she's the frozen ground
She's a knife drawn down the side street when there's no-one else around
This girl's a forged ticket to a Lloyd Webber show
She's the far end of the graveyard up where the nettles grow
This girl is the rainbow in the dewy eyed stares
She's the name tag on the toe of your long dead love affairs
This girl is taking bets, this girl's a silhouette, can't you see?
This girl is taking bets, this girl's a silhouette, can't you see?
This girl is the wild smile, the icy stare
She's the crackle of the static, she's the curses, she's the prayers
This girl is the junkie in the children's matinee
She's the 4 minute warning, she is hell to pay
This girl is the plunge pool, she is cocaine and Kodak
Now she's out setting sail on the ocean of the soundtrack
This girl is the shaking hand, the rattling cup
With a button and a note saying things are looking up
|
||||
2. |
Gun Cotton
04:15
|
|
||
|
Silence in the courtyard, silence in the street
The powers that be, out by the river, are shuffling their feet
But the night is full of car alarms and sideways glances
In this land of milk and money you don’t get your second chances
Cars are burning on the slip roads, the bars are full of sailors
Spent a long time trying to fathom which were trips and which were trailers
England has been bleeding into every police station
Into every schoolyard, every war and every state occasion
We’re the gun cotton
They’ll blast us all in line
This time
Children in the boxes paint the underpass red
The graffiti on the park bench, the faded A to Z
They’ll make you fat with dreams in sequence on the silver screen
‘Til you’re full of hope and tragedy and crash-site steam
We’re the gun cotton
They’ll blast us all in line
This time
|
||||
3. |
You Tell Me
03:38
|
|
||
|
Well here we are then you and me
Some little joke of chemistry
With all our sun bleached history
Fading as the light gets strong and
We are brave and we are fakes of
Tortured art and higher stakes
And winters knocking at the gates
But the clocks are wrong
I am the steel, I am the dare
The angry kid with mud in her hair
Setting off those warning flares
Till the sky got light
And you are the seasons, you are the free fall
Here's the smell of tarmac, here's the clarion call
Here's the reasoning behind it all
Right here tonight
'Cause I've struggled for directions
A blank page as far as I can see
But I'm open to suggestions
So you tell me
You tell me
You tell me
The corner cafe got closed down
A funeral pyre for the wise and the clowns
A little drunk this time around
But the feeling's there
They're drawing out their pocket knives
Till just the singular survives
For all the currency it buys
They don't much care
'Cause I've struggled for directions
A blank page as far as I can see
But I'm open to suggestions
So you tell me
You tell me
You tell me
Now colours blazing through the sky
With autumn fury in our eyes
We'll gather every battle cry
And lay them at their door
'Cause for all the reasons that they spent
To turn poetry to self defence
I guess that what I really meant
Was that's what it's for
But you tell me
You tell me
You tell me
|
||||
4. |
|
|||
|
Don’t set foot over the railway track
The heathens and the spin doctors are waiting round the back
The skies are always sullen and rain races to the tarmac
So dont set foot over the railway track
Don’t set foot over the railway track
The grass isn’t green, its yellow and the pavement is all cracked
The graveyards in a coma, the church has got the blues
And Jesus has a nose-ring and Mary has tattoos
And girls paint their skins like corpses and have hair of scouring wire
And the men all look like demons, see them dancing round their fires
Every door has leprosy, every house has got the clap
So, don’t set foot over the railway track
Don’t set foot over the railway track
Hope you’ve not been speaking to the wrong kind of people, Jack
They’ll screw you son as look at you if you let them gain a foot
This lines God almighty’s way of saying that you’ll stay just where you’re put
Cause they’re all paid up party members with a red streak like a river
They’re all standing there on their side saying promise and deliver
They are papering their walls with pages of Kerouac
So, don’t set foot over the railway track
No, don’t set foot over the railway track
|
||||
5. |
December In New York
03:39
|
|
||
|
Friday's humming summer
And the whiskey sun is running
out the night sky
I am here watching your form
Slowly pacing in the dawn
as all the stars die
Yeah you're like a hit, you are tailored just to fit
the changing season
Baby, what is this? We are two star crossed bits
of an equation
Is it that you're shining?
Is it your endgame talk?
You're like a suntan in November
Or December in New York
I will tune in to the radio
To hear some guy on some show
sing like chocolate
No its not my job to be sentimental
Yeah, I swear it was accidental
it just turned out like that
Is it that you're shining?
Is it your endgame talk?
You're like a suntan in November
Or December in New York
December in New York
I know I should be spitting bitter
Just for interest it's more fitting
for a girl like me
But I am standing here
Amid politics and tears
and I'm shouting loudly
And the dustcart is slugging
Its way around the corner
in the morning
And if you listen close
You'll hear the fairylights and smoke
of the East Coast calling
Is it that you're shining?
Is it your endgame talk?
You're like a suntan in November
Or December in New York
December in New York
December in New York
|
||||
6. |
Straight Up
04:42
|
|
||
|
Lost in a dream
I don't know which way to go
You are all that you sing
Baby, I'm moving away to sorrow
And I've been fooled before
Wouldn't like to get my love caught in the slammin' door
How about some information, please
Straight up, now
Tell me do you really wanna love me forever?
Or am I caught in a hit and run
Straight up, now
Tell me is it gonna be you and me together?
Or are you just havin' fun?
Time’s standing still
I wait for some small clue
And I, I keep getting chills
When I think your love is true
And I've been fooled before
Wouldn't like to get my love caught in the slammin' door
How about some information, please
Straight up, now
Tell me do you really wanna love me forever?
Or am I caught in a hit and run
Straight up, now
Tell me is it gonna be you and me together?
Or are you just havin' fun?
You are so hard to reach
You play hide and seek with your true intentions
And if you're only playing games
I just have to say lie now
Do, do you love me? Do, do you love me?
Say do, do you love me? Do, do you love me?
Do, do you love me? Do, do you love me?
Say do, do you love me? Do, do you love me?
And I've been fooled before
Wouldn't like to get my love caught in the slammin' door
Are you just hot for me?
Or am I just a page in your history book?
Well, I don't mean to make demands
But the word and the deed go hand in hand
So how about some information please
Straight up, now
Tell me do you really wanna love me forever?
Or am I caught in a hit and run
Straight up, now
Tell me is it gonna be you and me together?
Or are you just havin' fun?
Straight up, now
Tell me do you really wanna love me forever?
Or am I caught in a hit and run
Straight up, now
Tell me is it gonna be you and me together?
Or are you just havin' fun?
Do, do you love me? Do, do you love me?
Do, do you love me? Do, do you love me?
|
||||
Thea Gilmore UK
If you like Thea Gilmore, you may also like:
Serpent's Tears
by Richard Thompson
supported by 16 fans who also own “As If”
There's a similarity in song writing between Richard Thompson and Hugh Cornwell which maybe isn't surprising as they went to the same school at the same time, although Thompson is older. Due to Thompson's association with John French of Captain Beefheart & The Magic Band I searched for his work on the Bandcamp app. French, Thompson and Cornwell all have albums on the app which I'm very pleased about. Only Thompson has released contemporary albums, much to his credit.
go to album
Live From London
by Richard Thompson
supported by 14 fans who also own “As If”
Guitarist and songwriter extraordinaire. Once heard, never forgotten.
go to album
The Edge of the Land
by Katie Spencer
Spencer's indie folk sophomore album was recorded live in the studio over the course of two days.
go to album
I Used To Be Sad & Then I Forgot
by Mr. Alec Bowman_Clarke
Alec Bowman perfectly captures the dark soil under the pastoral world of British folk with this collection of melancholy originals.
go to album
3ingle
by Jason Lytle, Little Wings, Kramies
A trio of songs from indie rock veterans, “3ingle” showcases their songwriting skill with pared-back, acoustic arrangements.
go to album
Bloody Noses EP
by Richard Thompson
supported by 14 fans who also own “As If”
John Drumbo French from Captain Beefheart and The Magic Band worked with Thompson on two albums along with Fred Frith and Henry Kaiser. Those two French, Frith, Kaiser and Thompson albums led me to this. Also, Richard Thompson taught Hugh Cornwell (of The Stranglers) how to play the bass guitar in a band when they were both at the same school (Emil and The Detectives?). With a career spanning 50 years and playing with two of my heroes (French and Cornwell) Thompson has produced a fascinating EP.
go to album
