Mind the gap
For there is a place
A slit in time
With an empty space
Sending you through
In a unknown direction
Travelling sideways
To another dimension
Mouth it clearly
But don’t make a sound
Commute this
The London Intheground
Mind the gap
For there is a place
A slit in time
With an empty space
Sending you through
In a unknown direction
Travelling sideways
To another dimension
Mouth it clearly
But don’t make a sound
Commute this
The London Intheground
When you wake you’re still in a dream, he said to himself.
That was way way back, one early morning,
when only the night remained,
and all daytime was stuck in his dreams of his life awake.
Suspended in VHS
Travelling to ends
Triggering rewinds
From tape to tape to tape
The grainy
Through the rains
Unsteady
In the rolling winds and mess
Memory Memorexed
A cassette drape
A piercing, white blizzard had arrived, and everything familiar had all but vanished.
That’s all Joel had noticed in 3 seconds of eye-lash laden observation, shortly before his body yanked him backwards; his deadweight dropping him to a soft land.
It seemed for a while yet, he should remain foetal.
Ghost Music have recently released their wonderful debut album, ‘I Was Hoping You’d Pass by Here’ and being a close friend I was lucky enough to be asked for some of my artistry, the result is as above, I am very proud to be the visual face of a great record.
But truly, it’s about the music right? And that’s how it should be.
Firstly, these guys, will sleep, eat, talk, and probably fart great music until the Sun yoyo’s over their neighbouring Thames Estuary, much to the joy of the passionate less is more Indie brigade.
Matt Randall, who Ive been friends since I was Eleven, and now more of ‘Plantman’ fame, is in top form here once again (a brilliant songwriter of songs that evokes englishness, and nature which he so loves (I blame his love of The Durutti Column for one, and so would he).
Lee Hall, shares the song writing duties almost equally, and with his diamond fingers adds a wave from the Atlantic to Matts North Sea. With the fantastic, ‘Blackbird Stars’ Lee lowers his voice to almost David Berman proportions, its Lee’s finest of late.
Roy Thirlwall’s track, ‘Queen of England’ feels like catching a Routemaster bus past someones photos in tired honey tint, and is as sweet as folk.
I have to add that Leighton’s track (he even makes guitars, clever git) adds some gentle weight with, ‘Close Your Eyes’ and strangely reminds me of British Sea Power, back when they were interesting.
Each member, in their own way have been interchanging from project to project for decades, for Matt Randall and Lee Hall it all started in the 90’s with Beatglider (of which I also played in, i got that in, yes!) and have evolved some of that sound of then; splintered rock and shifting sound, into now more accomplished, smoother, purposeful stones.
Apparantly, all thirteen tracks are all ghosts of old songs. For me, they have duly been awakened from their chrysalis, and without hearing the originals, have evolved as they were born to be; beautiful butterfly’s and handsome moths, dropping some ol indie nostalgia into your delighted ears.
I gotta say that no song outstays its welcome; time and space, effortless and simple, clear as they are sure footed like the thoughtful plod of reverbed notes that Lee produces on ‘Heart Shaped Holiday’. Along with the welcoming hand of backing harmonies on that track alone, it’s a nod to lo-fi memory lane and a rush of influential record collections all in one, and my favourite song on here.
So with that all said and done, I have to highly recommend of course like many of the great reviews its been receiving… and it looks alright in your hand too.
Well done lads!
90%
From an unofficial sound within
Perpetual motion of recurring dream
Where nothing make sense without that a…
Pause
And all the while
While overplayed as forever is
I was noticed travelling hazardously
On a tidal surge
Leaping frantically
From debris to ever flaking debris
As to be floating somewhere still.
It was endless
And then it was a sunset morning
With no time to kill.
And you walked in
Like you owned not the place
But the place that you’re in
And you sailed through
Like your heart pumped the waves
When the waves needed you
But now
Im not so sure
On these stories told
When you think you know more
And want less
As you grow old
I thought i could hear something in a song once;
When my radio tuned itself in to sing to television.
Only, television phoned in, needing a show to see how it was written,
Ruining the whole near damn perfect experience… for the sake of entertainment.
I awoke to two drunks singing
My peace stinging like lost bees sipping honey
I was gonna vent
Hell-bent
But alas I had no bucket of shit to fling
As distance intervened by sleepy syringe
Being emptied of any fuss
I dreamt heavy
And then
So unable to navigate with a bus
He didn’t sing naturally to their tune, because they lacked all the right notes as he entered the room.