ore 17:45
*Shatter Trees* and *Boilermakers*
Ciao Ilari,
Here's two tracks by Peg & I -- our first collaboration -- it's called *Shatter Trees*.
Peg sent me a rough audio file and I wrote lyrics directly to it: a song about drinking & fighting under a night sky.
*Boilermakers* a file sent in a separate email was the opposite process: I sentPeg the text and she made the music around it. That's her voice onthe track as well.
Here's two tracks by Peg & I -- our first collaboration -- it's called *Shatter Trees*.
Peg sent me a rough audio file and I wrote lyrics directly to it: a song about drinking & fighting under a night sky.
*Boilermakers* a file sent in a separate email was the opposite process: I sentPeg the text and she made the music around it. That's her voice onthe track as well.
A kiss to Roma from frigid NYC.
xxx Holly
SHATTER TREES BLUE FEARS PUSH TEARS UNDER SHATTER TREESWITH THE RED WINE DONE THE STAGGER HURT'S FOR FREEBENT MOON WEARS A TRAIN OF DIRTY CLOUDS RED STARS SKIP ON COLD SATELLITE CROWDS MAKE HEAVEN'S BED -SHAKE THESE BLANKET STARSTWIST SO TIGHT ON SHEETS OF BLAZING LIGHTTWIST AND TREMBLE WE TIPTOE AND REELDUMBSTRUCK WORSHIP SHAKE HER LIT UP WHEELBLUE FEARS PUSH TEARS UNDER SHATTER TREESWITH THE RED WINE DONE THE STAGGER HURT'S FOR FREETWIST AND TREMBLE WE TIPTOE AND REELDUMBSTRUCK WORSHIP TRACE HER LIT UP WHEEL
© 2008 Peg Simone: vocals, guitars & slide / Holly Anderson: lyrics
Boilermakers
Up ‘the Range’ there was the rescue mission that reeked of too many brandies with beer backs in a car traveling too fast. And she was there -- bent rigid in the back corner of her brother’s Chrysler with a sprung seat pressed up hard against a Great Blue Heron with a broken wing flapflapflapping in her screwed tight 13 year-old face. Guys with names like Buckshot or Rosebud or Ironhead were always riding along bellowing‘morebeergoddamnit and where were they taking this should-be-dead-by-now-animal?’ Another winter night the first-born,older than her by 20 years ran full speed up Sheridan Street with a dead timber wolf high in his bent arms hollering the whole time about the wonder he’d found frozen mid-lope at the side of the road. Her drunken herd of brothers demanded all attention all the time. They packed the little white house on White Street with whirling curses and chaos. She wasn’t the baby they were.Was it ever any different after she went away on that eastbound bus the day she graduated high school? Was it? She packed up and left behind all the diamond embroidered skies tea colored lakes pitch pines scale skittered fish tables slammed together with a mouthful of nails lye soap fire towers tobacco cans daddy ghosts in the fresh snow and stalagtites of blood glistening in the gutted caves of deer hanging in the trees.
All guitars & voice: Peg Simone http://www.pegsimone.com/
Text: Holly Anderson http://www.smokemusic.tv/content/mission-burma-holly-anderson
SHATTER TREES BLUE FEARS PUSH TEARS UNDER SHATTER TREESWITH THE RED WINE DONE THE STAGGER HURT'S FOR FREEBENT MOON WEARS A TRAIN OF DIRTY CLOUDS RED STARS SKIP ON COLD SATELLITE CROWDS MAKE HEAVEN'S BED -SHAKE THESE BLANKET STARSTWIST SO TIGHT ON SHEETS OF BLAZING LIGHTTWIST AND TREMBLE WE TIPTOE AND REELDUMBSTRUCK WORSHIP SHAKE HER LIT UP WHEELBLUE FEARS PUSH TEARS UNDER SHATTER TREESWITH THE RED WINE DONE THE STAGGER HURT'S FOR FREETWIST AND TREMBLE WE TIPTOE AND REELDUMBSTRUCK WORSHIP TRACE HER LIT UP WHEEL
© 2008 Peg Simone: vocals, guitars & slide / Holly Anderson: lyrics
Boilermakers
Up ‘the Range’ there was the rescue mission that reeked of too many brandies with beer backs in a car traveling too fast. And she was there -- bent rigid in the back corner of her brother’s Chrysler with a sprung seat pressed up hard against a Great Blue Heron with a broken wing flapflapflapping in her screwed tight 13 year-old face. Guys with names like Buckshot or Rosebud or Ironhead were always riding along bellowing‘morebeergoddamnit and where were they taking this should-be-dead-by-now-animal?’ Another winter night the first-born,older than her by 20 years ran full speed up Sheridan Street with a dead timber wolf high in his bent arms hollering the whole time about the wonder he’d found frozen mid-lope at the side of the road. Her drunken herd of brothers demanded all attention all the time. They packed the little white house on White Street with whirling curses and chaos. She wasn’t the baby they were.Was it ever any different after she went away on that eastbound bus the day she graduated high school? Was it? She packed up and left behind all the diamond embroidered skies tea colored lakes pitch pines scale skittered fish tables slammed together with a mouthful of nails lye soap fire towers tobacco cans daddy ghosts in the fresh snow and stalagtites of blood glistening in the gutted caves of deer hanging in the trees.
All guitars & voice: Peg Simone http://www.pegsimone.com/
Text: Holly Anderson http://www.smokemusic.tv/content/mission-burma-holly-anderson
Nessun commento:
Posta un commento