*you can download a demo recording of this song here
You don’t know intuition like the dark don’t know the sun
And what’s not known is fabricated firm
Trust my premonition of the hours having won
And settling in
A dormant revolution lies awaiting birth to come
But what’s not known is still fabricated firm
An evil eye, a parasite, my powers are overcome
And settling in
Lacking the days of karma
You bought the wine instead
How can you be happy with that cloud above your bed?
Packing the days to follow
With drips of congo red
Still I lie to satisfy that cloud above your bed
Lacking the days of karma
Lacking the days, and you’re a lucky girl
An instant satisfaction has been paid for one of loss
The doorway to your mind is through my steel
A doubtful superstition has refrained to bear the cost
And settles in
Lacking the days of karma
You bought the wine instead
How can you be happy with that cloud above your bed?
Packing the days to follow
With drips of congo red
Still I lie to satisfy that cloud above your bed
Lacking the days of karma
Lacking the days, and you’re a lucky girl
Lacking the days of karma
You bought the wine instead
How can you be happy with that cloud above your bed?
Packing the days to follow
With drips of congo red
Still I lie to satisfy that cloud above your bed
Lacking the days of karma
Shadow up ahead
The bat is blind but leaves behind a cloud above your bed
Lacking the days of karma
Feed them all instead
With your colossal power to your cloud above my bed
Lacking the days of karma
Lacking the days, and you’re a lucky girl
Throughout 2010 I laid down some demos of a few new songs on my trusty home recording desk, in preparation for recording my album in October. The studio recording has been done now, but here are a couple of those demos for you to listen to.
DEMO #1: The Tree That Took My Love
– 7th February, 2010
I wrote this about a tree in London that I was sat under as her heartbreaking words shattered my life to pieces.
Written & recorded in one evening, this song is about the choice between spending time with the one you love either in the full bloom of the sun, or in an ebb shadowed by the moon’s darnkess…
I find that every twelve to eighteen months, a song is released which overwhelms me with inspiration the moment its soundwaves first brush against my eardrums.
This happened around eighteen months ago while I was in England, when I was lucky enough to hear Brakes by Royworld for the first time (but that’s another story). It didn’t happen again until October of this year, during my second week living in Sydney. I’d just moved into my new apartment the day before and I was on my way back home from my second day at my new job, my earphones loudly blasting my favourite radio station, Triple J, as I walked toward the train station. A distinctly Australian hip-hop song was playing, I can’t remember which band it was, but I was paying more attention to the people, buildings and cars that were around me than I was paying to the music.
The hip-hop song faded away, and all of a sudden, I was graced with an almost hesitant-sounding open acoustic D minor chord, resolving up to the F and followed shortly by drums, bass and a few banjo strums. I was instantly hooked by the natural, folksy tonality, before even a word had been sung. I listened intently, my awareness of the outside world shrinking as my earphones delivered a melody which made my hair stand on end. By the time the harmonic chorus kicked in, I’d stopped in the middle of the path, unable to continue on until this song had come to an end, and I’d discovered who on earth were playing this incredible piece of music. I was soon to learn that the song was Little Lion Man, by London folk/rock band, Mumford & Sons:
The words of the refrain rang in my ears as if they were words from the heavens above:
But it was not your fault but mine
And it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
Didn’t I my dear?
I couldn’t believe it – these were the exact words that I had been trying so hard to utter for the past year, only to have them fall on deaf ears every time I attempted. Marcus Mumford had not only succeeded in vocalising – but beautifying – the predicament that is a lost and damaged love; a love that may not have ended anywhere nearly as horribly had I only shown some consideration for her feelings, and not been so fucking selfish with regard to my own. I felt instantly connected with this music, so I made a stop at the record store on the way home to buy the album, and Mumford & Sons became my new favourite band.
I should have bought tickets then and there to St. Jerome’s Laneway Festival to see them perform, but I put it off because I didn’t have the disposable income to spend, and before too long of course the tickets all sold out. I’d been eyeing them on eBay, but as soon as Mumford gloriously took out the top prize in Triple J’s Hottest 100 of 2009, the prices just about tripled. I knew I’d forever regret it if I didn’t see them live while they were the hottest band in the country, so I bit the bullet and spent $250 on a ticket the day before the event. And it was by far the best $250 I’ve ever spent!
I headed on down to the Sydney College of the Arts this afternoon and was straight away impressed with the choice of venue. There were three stages set amongst the gorgeous old sandstone buildings with a fantastic assortment of local and international bands playing on each, and after a quick browse through the markets I made my way to the front of the crowd at the main stage.
I was lucky enough to catch a set from The Middle East, who hail from my home town of Townsville and made me proud to say so; their musicianship, storytelling and live performance all second-to-none. Following them were Bridezilla, a five-piece experimental band from Sydney, featuring four amazingly talented and easy-to-look-at ladies who knew exactly how to play their instruments (plus one very lucky guy on the drums!)
The crowd had really started to build by now, and you could feel the excitement in the air around the band we’d all been waiting for. Mumford & Sons had the audience in the palms of their hands from the moment they stepped onto the stage. They could do no wrong.
Now I’ve seen some pretty incredible live bands throughout my time so far, but nothingcompares to what I saw and felt during the 55 minutes that Marcus, Winston, Ben and Ted stood in front of us Sydney festivalgoers and played their hearts out. The opening chords of Sigh No More softly emanated from the PA, and for the first time, I experienced what it was like for music to move you so much that it brings not only an almighty sense of peace and wellbeing, but goosebumps and tears as well. An enchanted round of applause and squeals of delight came from the crowd as a bewildered Marcus and the boys tried to work out how on earth they’d managed to achieve such a devoted and, I quote, “overexcited” fan base in a country so far away from their own. As the song picked up, so did the already-hungry crowd, singing in unison with the truest of words: love that will not betray you, dismay or enslave you, it will set you free, be more like the man you were made to be.
Mumford & Sons had awakened my soul, and I was dancing and singing along with hundreds of others who had also risen from their slumber:
Timshel (Live at Sydney Laneway Festival, 31st January 2010)
I really should have kept recording after Timshel finished, because Ben announced that it was Marcus’s birthday, which brought on an impromptu rendition of “Happy Birthday” from the crowd! We were then rewarded with Little Lion Man, which went off like nothing else and left us all on an absolute high. Other highlights included Roll Away Your Stone which Winston announced as being the “Laneway Hoedown,” a very impassioned performance of The Cave, plus an incredible new song to round up the set.
Sarah Blasko performed next, pulling a killer set despite a cold and being on Nurofen, then Echo & The Bunnymen reminded us of some eighties classics. Ending the night was the delightfully chirpy Florence & The Machine who sang her lungs out and managed to get the many-thousand-strong crowd jumping up and down to her hits. It was the happiest mosh pit I’ve ever have the privilege of being in.
On my return home, before starting this blog, I checked the ARIA charts to see if Mumford’s single and album had progressed any further up the ladder, given that they had won the Hottest 100 the week before. I’m glad to report that at the time of writing, Little Lion Man is sitting at #5 on the Australian singles chart, and on the albums charts, Sigh No More is at #2, held back from the top spot by none other than Susan Boyle.
I’m proud that us Aussies have embraced this incredible British band like no other nation has, and I can only hope that this means the beginning of a longlasting relationship. Any time you wish to return to our shores to awaken more of our souls, Mumford & Sons, you are more than welcome 😀
Last Wednesday night I went out to IndigO2 (a venue inside the Millennium dome at Greenwich, London) because O2 had kindly put on a free gig headlined by Australia’s very own singer/songwriter extraordinaire, Ben Lee. Who can’t say no to a free gig?
I’ve always been a fan of Ben, not a die-hard fan or anything, but enough to appreciate his sentiment and follow his career over the years. I’d seen him perform once before in Brisbane back in 2005, not long after he released Awake Is The New Sleep, and I left the gig quite impressed with his showmanship and his ability to work the crowd. He was most definitely a born entertainer.
His gig the other night was no exception to this – from the moment he walked on stage he had the audience in the palm of his hand. He quipped about the set list he’d scribbled on the back of a packet of Sainsbury’s hummous, before taking us on a philosophical journey of his beloved pop music. He brought us back to his breakthrough song of 1998 where he wished we were all wrong, then he regrouped by inviting us all to take part in this together. By the end of his performance the crowd had clearly caught his disease, and we all walked off into the dark with a sense of coming so close to a ripe, numbing sensation of no guilt and all pleasure.
Song-lyric puns aside, there was one tune in particular that Ben sang which really, really intrigued me. I’d never heard it before, and at the time I was under the impression that he had written it himself. I found out later that it was written by a guy called Kristopher Roe and originally recorded by the band he fronts, the Ataris, who I remembered from a few years ago when they did that version of Don Henley’s Boys Of Summer. The song by the Ataris that I’m referring to here, though, is aptly entitled Ben Lee, and the lyrics are as follows:
I never met someone so jaded
Your music’s really over rated
Nothing but a lot of pretentious noise
I know that Claire Danes was your chick
To me you’re just some ugly prick
Who got lucky cause he knew the Beastie Boys
And I can’t stand it
A lot goes on but nothing happens
But this time that’s not true
I wrote this song for you
To tell you that your 15 minutes of fame are almost up
Yeah one more thing, Ben Lee you suck
Bob Dylan must be kinda pissed
Cause you’ve been writing all his hits
Packaged and reprocessed for the world
I’d love to kick you in the face
Break your legs and throw you from a train
Cause you’re such a fucking girl
And I can’t stand it
I guess this song’s come to an end
I’ll say good bye until we meet again
You better stay out of my town
Cause if I had my way
I’d call up Snoop, Ice Cube and Dr. Dre
We’d come and beat you down
You can hear it here:
As you can tell, it’s a hate song – a feeble, pathetic pot-shot. Now when it comes to art and artists, I’m all one for constructive criticism, and I completely understand that everybody is entitled to an opinion, but there comes a point, doesn’t there? Do you really need to go all out and write this kind of blatant negative rubbish about somebody who couldn’t be less deserving of it? Apparently this Kristopher Roe bloke was simply jealous of Ben because he was with Claire Danes at the time, but come on, “I’d love to kick you in the face, break your legs and throw you from a train” is going a bit to extremes isn’t it?
Anyway, the point I want to make here is that at the end of the day, I think Ben himself is the righteous victor of the situation. He had the courage to get up there and sing the words of his very own hate song in front of 1,500 people, and I believe that really says something about his character. His ability to confront his own musical taunts face-to-face and essentially turn a negative around into a positive has ended up being one of the most inspirational three minutes I’ve ever been lucky enough to witness.
He even recorded the song as a bonus track for his latest album, The Rebirth Of Venus. You can hear it here:
Much respect to you, Ben Lee. Much respect to you.
It was ten years ago today that I had my first ever public performance playing guitar in front of a crowd, at a hotel in Townsville. I was 13 years old, and the event was to celebrate “Oz Music Month.” I remember late in the afternoon, not long after my performance, the news came through that you had tragically passed away.
At the time, I was not exactly sure who you were, but the look of shock on everybody’s faces made me realise that your passing was serious – a harrowing occurance that regrettably resonated through the hearts of so many people.
As the years went by and I broadened my musical horizons, I discovered who this man was, that was Michael Hutchence. Such an amazing life you led and such an emotive voice you sang with, performing songs with a melodious embrace that remains unequalled to this day.
As I sit here reflecting upon your contribution to society, I notice the irony in how this one day ten years ago saw the end to your life – yet the beginning of my own music endeavours.
I know that one day we will meet in another realm and I will have the opportunity to thank you personally for the inspiration you left for me and for millions of others, but until then, may your memory forever shine like it does.
Michael Kelland John Hutchence: 22/01/1960 – 22/11/1997
*you can download the recording of this song from my Comfort Zone EP here
Romantic movie
Where you said to me
That everyone must chase their heart
Not like that movie
You prove right to me
That my acting doesn’t suit the part
Although I’m ever grateful for all that you’ve done
I’ll wait til you say I’m the one, it’s you who I adore
Thinkin’ bout the time we’ve spent is more than I can handle
But I’ll not be dampened that you drew the line
Everyone and everything I meet will never make my life complete
Until the day where you’ll be mine
Now that you’ve moved on
And you’ve found someone
To give your love to every day
But if that someone
Should ever move on
Serendipity will come my way
I hope you’re ever grateful for all that I’ve done
Why can’t you see that I’m the one, it’s you I do adore
Thinkin’ bout the time we’ve spent is more than I can handle
But I’ll not be dampened that you drew the line
Everyone and everything I meet will never make my life complete
Until the day where you’ll be mine
