1. |
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2. |
Sun and Shade
03:34
|
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3. |
Piddlyday
02:08
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4. |
Games of Falling
01:59
|
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5. |
Passage Among Glaciers
06:10
|
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6. |
Gables
03:17
|
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7. |
January Tune
05:55
|
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8. |
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|
Erin stood by Cagney at edge of the trench
Her bandanna wasn’t thick enough to fight the stench
The storm approached the clay fields – licking its lips before the dead
Orange water soaked their trousers as the hillside bled
I say a-ho…
Oh…
Oh… oh yeah
Terry built a doghouse out of an old oil drum
He made his son a promise, tying a string to his thumb
In the dirt his boy drew a picture of a great angelic swan
And Terry wept in anguish, for even they were gone
I say a-ho…
Oh…
Oh… oh yeah
Vincent blows his horn to greet the burning coach
While Sara whispers blessing, clasping her sliver brooch
Black clouds engulfed the ghost town – a child’s cry hung to the gust
Cagney leaned against his shovel as his joints began to rust
I say a-ho…
Oh…
Oh… oh yeah!
And all is quite in the swallowed night
Except for the screaming of the wind
Smoke dragons dance around the drifters' heads
As their campfire glows so dim
As their campfire glows so dim
As their campfire glows... so dim…
So, so, so dim…
I say a-ho…
Oh…
Oh… oh yeah!
I say a-ho…
Oh…
Oh… oh yeah!
|
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9. |
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10. |
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11. |
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|
One little red mitten on the windowsill
Catches a flake of snow
And it’s so quite on this morning
All the schools are closed
Open a pouch of stray buttons
And a mouth organ sighs
For the littlest pieces that survive
Walk through the woods over to your house
On the edge of the city
Where we drink coco and watch the ice icicles
Drip like stalactites from the trees
While listening to old records
Drifting in vinyl dreams
In the littlest pieces and their themes
You make me want to grow old
You make me wish it was 1990
You make me want to grow old
You make me wish that we’d lived through the 60’s
Out of tune and offbeat
Babe, I feel so out of time
You pull out a hatbox from the closet
And lay it on the bed
You make little dolls to put in it
With rags and golden thread
Their eyes you make out of buttons
They only see the fingerprints
Of the littlest pieces of the testament
You make me want to grow old
You make me wish it was 1990
You make me want to grow old
You make me wish that we’d lived through the 60d’s
Fingerprints and vinyl dreams
Babe, I feel so out of time
Out of time…
One little oil lamp in a cold dark room
With a book by Hermann Hesse
Peppermint melting on your tongue
Got me hanging by a guess
And while the power was out
All the city could see the stars
All the littlest pieces of who we are
|
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12. |
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13. |
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|
Now and again
I make a friend
While at the places where the faces wait for someday to begin
And we talk of things
That have no weight
We laugh at told jokes ‘til they're old jokes, lying on our empty plates
Then I think aloud
A thought astray
And expressions change, finding it strange how first impressions can betray
Then they leave the table
And I’m as I was
Trying to find uses for old excuses, cause I have nothing but “because”
“Because, because, because…”
And that feeling comes again
Somewhat sad and somehow old
And the walls, they seem so wide
As a private thought unfolds
Yes, and you who give him praise
For never selling out
When you left him alone to die
Suffocating on his doubt
I have nothing left to say… to you
I have nothing left to say… to you
Now and again
I make a friend
While at the places where the faces wait for someday to begin…
|
||||
14. |
Marat/Sade (Demo)
03:41
|
|||
15. |
Bye-Bye, Blue Sky (Demo)
00:54
|
|||
|
Bye bye
Blue sky
|
||||
16. |
Last Offerings (Demo)
05:06
|
|||
|
Bring to pause my reckless haste
Remind me of what I would waste
These trees I see as skeletons
In waiting for the spring to come
But cast the night as night away
Forget not that there’s more to days
Than what can be shown by the sun
You show me things I’d leave undone
(Chorus)
Oh
Ride the barrel down
Oh
Gather the gang around
There’s always something more than what we bring
And I’ve given not my last offering
Tell me something of your past
Some clue to what is made to last
Your words to choose, each is your choice
I only want your voice
Perhaps we’re two sides of a coin
Called but fell: a ball baring
Rolling off of the table
We are nothing if not falling
(Repeat chorus)
Cool my head and warm my frame
The private longing still remains
Though I assured you I was tamed
You assured me you were the same
The faithless cries “believe in me!”
To his wild river queen
But I can be what I must be
If at Montecristo again we’ll meet
(Repeat chorus)
The ceremonies come again
Of what will break and what will bend
Of what will grow from what will mend
And scarred, what will descend?
Rights of fire, of pride or shame
Please tell me now, what we remain?
To celebrate this would seem strange
But like to all, celebrations change
(Repeat chorus)
|
||||
17. |
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|
Waiting for the other shoe
Is nothing new
To me
But I’ve never had to wait this long
For anything
To go wrong
What am I going to do with my heart?
It’s in no shape for anything real
I prefer my nightmares to my dreams
When I wake their talons release me
But in my dreams Eden’s are made
That I would die not to escape
I fall every time I open up my eyes
Everything you say is cruel
In a soft
Familiar way
Full of velvet and mirror shards
And to the music - god, how you sway
What am I going to do with my heart?
It’s too raw to taste your salt
And I prefer my nightmares to my dreams
But in the night you always visit me
And seldom have I been so scared
Of needles and thread meant to repair
Then, just before the dawn, you smile and leave
Waiting for the other shoe
Is nothing new
To me
But I’ve never had to wait this long
For anything
To go wrong
What am I going to do with my heart?
It’s in no shape to drum this beat
I prefer my nightmares to my dreams
I prefer my nightmares to my dreams…
|
||||
18. |
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|
It’s the calfskin glove
Of the gateway drug
It’s the truce of mortal rivals
For the friend in need
That we choose to leave
It’s the greed we call survival
It’s the melting glaze
Off of the elder days
It’s the ragged tent revival
It’s the worn catch phrase
Fraying spirit and praise
It’s the change we call survival
It’s the Judas kiss
On the lovers’ wrists
Who've enlisted, tongues unbridled
In the war of words
Between shepherds
For the death we call survival
And everything must die in its place and time
And such paths cannot be stifled
When the wars wind down and the loss is found
What remains we call survival
What remains we call survival
|
||||
19. |
||||
|
(from finished version)
Molly is a cannibal
I call myself an exhibitionist
We’ve done things we’re still learning how to regret
“Love is a cancer,” I said
Disguised as an answer, I read
My hairs falling out and still she hasn’t put my ring on yet
No, she keeps dressing me down
Dressing me down again
One of these days, she ought to dress me up in someone else’s skin
Princess of the slaughterhouse
Down the catwalk hand in hand with Faust
What she does with her time didn’t used to matter much to me
“Love is a cancer,” she says
Life is a dance at Death’s masque
With all these débutantes, so kind, so cruel with each curtsy
And now she dressing me down
Dressing me down again
One of these days, she ought to dress me up in someone else’s skin
She’s dressing me down, dressing me down again
She’s dressing me down, dressing me down again
Girl, you keep dressing me down, dressing me down again
Well one of these days, maybe I’ll dress me up in someone else’s skin
Molly is a cannibal
I call myself an exhibitionist
We’ve done things we’re still learning how to regret
|
||||
20. |
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21. |
||||
|
Pegged you a black sheep
You're just a stray
Cry up the alley 'til you get your way
Tryin' to sleep
Tomorrow's a day
Curse the moon
Curse the moon
Your pawning buttons
Zippers and glue
This little putty cat's sticking to you
knocking down cans
Screaming...
Curse the moon
Curse the moon
Pegged you a black sheep
You're just stray
No one will miss you when you go away
All your cool crooning
Melts every day
Curse the moon
Curse the moon
Curse the moon
Curse the moon
|
||||
22. |
Sweeping Up The Rain
03:57
|
|||
23. |
||||
24. |
||||
|
You should probably go
But you don’t move an inch
Some bad ideas are so beautiful
Where’s your common sense?
That little voice of reason?
But what better should you know?
Romantics have strange heroes
Romantics, they have strange heroes…
Ain’t they the ruined kind?
Smudged untouchables
The holy hollow heathens that fill lyric and prose
They serenade you
To feel and be felt
Because you’re downing, boy
In your expected self
She puts her hands upon your chest, then…
Like she would give you mouth to mouth, and…
Too close
It is not close enough!
So will you break this stillness…
And swallow her breath?
Break your fractured vows?
Swallow her breath
And break your fractured vows
Romantics have strange heroes
Romantics, they have strange heroes
Some bad ideas are so beautiful
And romantics, they have strange heroes
Straighten your tie
Smile for the guests
Kiss the backs of your heels
Ain’t you going places!
Keeping up with the Joneses
Driving Robinson’s home
Answering all your emails
Paying loans off with loans
You’re getting in so deep
You should probably go
But some bad ideas
Are so beautiful
She puts her hands upon your chest, then…
Like she would give you mouth to mouth, and…
Too close
It is not close enough!
So will you break this stillness…?
And swallow her breath?
Break your fractured vows?
Swallow her breath
And break your fractured vows
Breathe, breathe baby, breathe
Breathe, breathe baby, breathe
Though the room is full of smoke
From all that you set afire
Breathe, breathe baby, breathe
Now you’re the ruined kind
Smudged untouchables
The holy hollow heathens that fill lyric and prose
And serenade us
To feel and be felt
‘Cause were all downing, dear boy
In our expected... selves
Romantics, they have strange heroes…
|
||||
25. |
Belly Spiders (Demo)
02:49
|
|||
|
Things of late, I can’t comprehend
Too out of touch with the heartland
So sure I knew my place and the plan
Until it all fell through
Until it all fell through
Sister, fear for your family
Horror stories, every day I read
They’re tearing the clothes off of Lady Liberty
And all that I can do
Is to say to you
Won’t you come my way?
I’ve got some good blood with you
Come on and come my way
I’ve got some good blood with you
Through the night please stay
Get some things off your chest
Been all belly-spiders – since you last left
Cousin, pray for your family
They wear their wool and they bare their teeth
If compassion is not a lamb’s currency
Then who their shepherd be
To the slaughter leads
This is not the same old fight
We let the vultures don the referee stripes
They’re shouting, “sieg heil” in the Reagan Room – ‘ight!
What we gonna do?
What are we gonna do?
Won’t you come my way?
I’ve got some good blood with you
Come on and come my way
I’ve got some good blood with you
Through the night please stay
It’s been so hard to take rest
Been all belly-spiders – since you last left
So won’t you come my way?
I’ve got some good blood with you
Come on and come my way
I’ve got some good blood with you
Through the night please stay
Tomorrow will need our best
Been all belly-spiders – since you last left
|
||||
26. |
||||
|
Bereft of hope
My life’s flown these ambling beelines
From shabby boy to dapper drone
Through poetry upon sweet winds
Tread drunk in love and heartbroken
These city streets always my home
But I don’t know no more these flowers
Pushing the cracks wide to be free
When I am pointed to the shears
To kill the weeds
By the horde upon on the hill
Ever the horde upon the hill – lookin’ down on all of the sheep
Wish there was something I could say
But only lies pool on my tongue
When I try to kiss the day, like a lover I am not
I can’t be a lining shiner
But I will be your silver miner
In this dark and dirty tunnel
With my canary I will sing!
Bereft of hope
A garden-grown comfort in clinging
Debts amassed – so creditable
‘Til wafts of teargas on the wind
Words thrown through my little terrarium
These city streets always my home
But stranger to their dancing fires
Bloody cults of graven bronze
And the solemn waltz of candles
The tomorrows that the stars… mourn
While the horde is on the hill
Ever this horde upon the hill - lookin’ down on all of the sheep
And the guards have been sent away
But the flowers show their thorns
Wish I could sing ‘em a lullaby, like the lover I am not
I couldn’t be a lining shiner
But I will be a silver miner
In this dark and dirty tunnel
With my canary I will sing!
No I can’t be your lining shiner
But I will be a silver miner
In this dark and dirty tunnel
With my canary I will sing…
To hold on
Hold on
Hand in hand, to pull through
You got to hold on
Hold on
Hand in hand, to pull through
You’ve got to hold on
Hold on, now
Hand in hand, to pull through
Hand in hand, to pull through
|
||||
27. |
||||
28. |
The Fever Song (Demo)
08:44
|
|||
|
Tell me, is true art beauty
Or is true art lies?
I find each easiest to conjure when entwined
I only spoke of beauty
I even called it kind:
All this barbed wire that’s tangled around my mind
When you played the servant
You called it love
I played the doctor playing doctor in his vault
And they called me good
And they called me wise
Because the few patients that left matured like wine
Still, what would I know
Of four-letter words
If they aren’t woven to be flails against your worth?
I have kissed your fur
And I bit your neck
But you swear I haven’t tasted your soul yet
When you speak of love
It’s more than mystique
More than an apple growing on a fruitless tree
Oh, is true art beauty
Or is true art lies?
Like prince and pauper, in each other they will hide
The drunken comedian
Let’s call him divine
Because he’s dying to make us smile all the time
The ambassador
Of the promise land
With his folded bills placed on a child’s nightstand
The charismatic tramp
That we all love to hate
Is never scorned in person for leaving all his waifs
The young single-mother
We try to call noble
Her child screaming in his prison unanswered
And I don’t have an answer
I barely have leanings
And you know poets hate to tell you what it means
I hang these ornaments
On a fruitless tree
Trying to make it through another night without calling
Tell me, is true art beauty
Or is true art lies?
I find each easiest to conjure when entwined
You only spoke of beauty
You even called it kind:
All the barbed wire that has tangled up your mind
And we have failed completely
At the top of the hill
In front of everyone that matters to us still
I couldn’t play the prophet
Or be their sacrifice
But I would fall though for you to melt their lake of ice
Still, I couldn’t feel smaller
All that I thought I’d be
Back in the orchard when we were young and naïve
So I release my arms
And hang my humbled head
But the fever takes pen and paper to my bed
I try to keep my distance
Like I could set you free
The wire only tears in deeper as it is released
So is true art beauty
Or is true art lies?
Like love, whatever’s easy I suspect’s contrived
But I don’t have an answer
It’s not that kind of tree
That I lie with you beneath in fever dreams
|
||||
29. |
||||
30. |
||||
|
Home is where you peel
Like a tangerine
For the stolen Sundays
Their essential oils
But there are cracks in the ceiling
A condensation of condescending builds
And there are cracks in the ceiling
Draw truth and light from a radiator still
Such a trial for a truffle
A trifle of the dew
Just a drop of you
And this hour’s in amber
Such a trial for a truffle
A trifle of the dew
Just a drop of you
And this hour’s held in amber…
And this hour’s held in amber…
But home...
Is currently unavailable
But home...
Is currently unavailable
Home is where you peel
Gather the falling curls
Such tender tinder
Kindling for the crucible
But there are cracks in the ceiling
And pictures pinned to the make-up mirror
God, there are cracks in the ceiling
You smelt the slag but lose the weight of your heart
Such a trial for a truffle
A trifle of the dew
Just a drop of you
And this hour’s in amber
Such a trial for a truffle
A trifle of the dew
Just a drop of you
And this hour’s held in amber…
And this hour’s held in amber…
Yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
But home...
Is currently unavailable
But home...
Is currently unavailable
Such a trial for a truffle
A trifle of the dew
Just a drop of you
And this hour’s in amber
Such a trial for a truffle
A trifle of the dew
Just a drop of you
And this hour’s held in amber…
And this hour’s held in amber…
But home...
Is currently unavailable
But home...
Is currently unavailable
|
||||
31. |
||||
|
Sad to see
Still I keep looking
Is it sadder to seek than to find?
Sometimes
Sometimes I think I'd rather keep on running
Endorphins pumping
In my mind, always
Hear a voice from down the hallway
Where are you?
You were there
I could have sworn, I swear
I don't believe in you
Where were you when...?
So many uniforms
So assured, so pressed on
Press me against the glass
Pin me to the cork
There are many forms of falling to make of me
And do I want to meet the voice from down the hallway?
Gazing
Glazed and green
I am turning into a knife
Inside
Inside I'm making such a spectacle
Outstretched in longing
In my mind, always
Hear a voice from down the hallway
And I follow you
As if swallowed into
Besides, the doors are all locked anyway
Where are you?
You were there
I could have sworn, I swear
I don't believe in you
Where were you when...?
So many uniforms
So assured, so pressed on
Press me against the glass
Pin me to the cork
There are many forms of falling to make of me
And do I want to meet the voice from down the hallway?
|
||||
32. |
||||
|
Every morning – the same obstacles
You know you could do better, but it’s so difficult
You want – to dance in the sun but it burns
And you want – to smile without any rain… or worse
You want to be Plain – Jane without her guns
Oh, no…
You shouldn’t turn to me if you’re yearning to change
I know you want perspective but I’m far out of range
Cause I… like your strange
Baby, I like your strange
No, I hope – you don’t ever change
Cause I… I like your strange
Every evening – the same routine
Metallic eye shadow and some Dramamine
You know – a sea of light is a windless sea
Still longing – to glitter-bomb the ball and chain
But you rather be Plain – Jane without her guns
Jane without her guns
Oh, no!
Cause you can’t un-see all these lines as a cage
The more I aim the spotlight you slip further downstage
But I… like your strange
Baby, I like your strange
And I hope – you don’t ever change
Cause I… I like your strange
|
||||
Cory Capron Charlottesville, Virginia
I got into electronic music by accident when a theater production needed some sound effects. Self-taught, working mostly with an antiquated version of Garageband, and various broken things.... I find myself after a decade of homemade albums, scores for theater, and other wanderings, still without a clue what I'm doing, but still doing it. ... more
Cory Capron recommends:
Everywhere at the end of time
by The Caretaker
This album wrecked me. One of the most emotional listening experiences of my life. So much of my drive this year is indebted to this album.
go to album
Myriologues
by Ships In The Night
I have heard my dear friend play these songs many times before they were on an album. I should be sick of them by now, but it's still the most played album of the last three years for me.
go to album
Sleep Has His House
by Current 93
Discovering Current 93 marked a major shift in my work (notably starting with Wrecker). This was the album that first pulled me into the vast world of David Tibet, a dreamscape of pure wounded beauty.
go to albumIf you like Cory Capron, you may also like:
The German "quasi-free jazz" duo's debut LP is a crisply detailed trip through soundscapes that are playful and eerie in equal measure.
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A beautifully haunting record from ARIGTO with atmospheric drones that shapeshift constantly.
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Set 530 years in the future, this brain-melting LP explores noise, drone, and darkambient to chilling effect.
go to album
