Get all 28 David A. Harley releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Brookland Voices, The Road, In a Folkier Vein, Swan Songs, So Sound You Sleep (More Tears of Morning), Seven Years In The Sand (single), Nobody's Song, Marking Time - The 3rd Demo Album, and 20 more.
1. |
Heatwave in the City
06:28
|
|||
|
There’s a heatwave in the city and the day drags on forever
The tarmac burns through patent leather
Clear through to the sole
Ice tumbles through glass as the temperature soars
And the dayshift leaves the nightshift to take over for a while
The city sings at midnight to the well-fed and the civilized
While waiters mop their faces in the kitchen, out of sight
Small change pours in torrents over counters in the bistros
And the moon hangs red and sullen in the dustbowl of the sky
The city is on heat, bare-legged girls in summer dresses
Dodge the lechery of workmen laying cable through the day
But the night turns on the body to sweet pornography
Passions feed on darkness and the body mutes the mind
The city squeals at midnight in its pain and ecstasy
The life-force surges through the veins and soaks the sheets
The couples claw and couple and feed upon each other
And still the hunger rages through the streets
I saw a refugee from Galway with a faceful of stubble
Singing sentimental songs in the underground today
He’s going back to Mother Ireland and the Mountains of Mourne
And he only needs a bob or two to help him on his way
The city whimpers at midnight in its apathy and squalor
From a bench on the Embankment, from a derry in Barnes
From a squat in Deptford, from the winos and the junkies
From the homeless and the helpless, the hopeless and the lost
A refugee from Calvary is preaching anarchy and anger
Through his 40 Megawatt PA
And when the concert’s over he packs his guitars and prophecies
And goes back to his hotel to drink the night into the day
But out there in the streets the word is out all over
The heat are out for action in New Cross and Ladbroke Grove
The temperature is dropping but the tempers are at flashpoint
And no-one lingers on street corners if they’re walking home alone
The city screams at midnight in the agony of anger
The rocksteady revolution pays its homage to its dead
Where dreadlocks meet deadlock the shock tears up the flagstones
And on their righteous anger the riot squads are fed
The Klan charts fiery crosses cloistered in an upstairs room
The architects of reaction spin their bitter webs
Black and white scrawl their frustrations in blood across the charge sheets
And no-one dares explain the chaos in their heads
The city burns at midnight and the blood runs down the sewers
In the ghettoes and the side-streets where the patriots have been
Squad cars and an ambulance cut through the aftermath
And tomorrow’s front pages unfurl to set the scene
|
||||
2. |
||||
|
He never wanted her love, just a piece of her time
A loving night now and then, and no loving lies
Just a tender glance from distant eyes
But he learned too late to recognize
That he was far, far away – he’d missed the alarm
Drowning far, far away in other arms
He hadn’t noticed her changing till daylight broke him the news
Far, far away, one step away from the blues
He never wanted to stray far away from himself
He never thought he’d rely on anyone else
For a light in the window, a knock on the door
Somewhere to keep warm when the nights turned cold
But she was far, far away when the blizzard set in
The door stood silent and locked, and he was soaked to the skin
He hadn’t noticed her changing till she left him with nothing to lose
Far, far away, one step away from the blues
He only wanted to give a small part of himself
But she took his heart then found someone else
She never thought he’d give her more than a thought or two
When she packed a few bags and cut herself loose
And went far, far away in search of herself
Never thinking to leave her new address
Neither of them knew he was changing
Till he woke up with nothing to lose
Far, far away
Far, far away
Far, far away
One step away from the blues…
|
||||
3. |
Let Me Lie Easy
02:29
|
|||
|
I don’t want to hear that the show must go on
I know that the world keeps on turning
But how can you ask me to rise with the lark
With this pain in my heart still burning?
Let me lie easy, let me lie late/Let me lie low, let the world wait
Let me lie easy, let me lie late/Please let me sleep till it’s over
The sheep’s in the meadow, the cow’s in the corn
The dogs call in vain for their master
Just give me a while to untangle my threads
And Little Boy Blue will come after
The summer’s near gone and the year’s on the wane
The harvest stands ripened and wasting
Just give me an hour to unscramble my head
And I promise I’ll not keep you waiting
|
||||
4. |
The Carpenter's Son
05:32
|
|||
|
`Here the hangman stops his cart:
Now the best of friends must part.
Fare you well, for ill fare I:
Live, lads, and I will die.
`Oh, at home had I but stayed
‘Prenticed to my father’s trade,
Had I stuck to plane and adze,
I had not been lost, my lads.
`Then I might have built perhaps
Gallows-trees for other chaps,
Never dangled on my own,
Had I left but ill alone.
`Now, you see, they hang me high,
And the people passing by
Stop to shake their fists and curse;
So ’tis come from ill to worse.
`Here hang I, and right and left
Two poor fellows hang for theft:
All the same’s the luck we prove,
Though the midmost hangs for love.
`Comrades all, that stand and gaze,
Walk henceforth in other ways;
See my neck and save your own:
Comrades all, leave ill alone.
`Make some day a decent end,
Shrewder fellows than your friend.
Fare you well, for ill fare I:
Live, lads, and I will die.’
|
||||
5. |
Ten Percent Blues
03:41
|
|||
|
Got a seat facing the engine
So I don’t have to face where I’ve been
Luggage on the rack, no reason to look back
At all my wrecked and reckless gypsy dreams
No more bright lights, no more white lines
Or crashing in the back of the van
No more hustling small-time gigs
I guess time has beaten the band
No more deadlines, no more breadlines
Mr 10%, you’re on your own
No more fine print, no more backstage blues
This rolling stone is rolling home
Got a ticket to take me to tomorrow
It can’t be worse than today
So driver, take me home and don’t spare the horsepower
I’m on a ten year holiday
No more missed chances and chickens*t advances
Cold chips in the back of the van
No more blown tires and fuses, no more broken promises
Time has beaten the band
No more deadlines, no more breadlines
Mr 10%, you’re on your own
No more fine print, no more backstage blues
This rolling stone is rolling home
No more spotlights, no more ups and downers
Absolutely no stage fright
No more superstar fantasies
From today I’m strictly 9-5
No more infighting, no more moonlighting
No more one-night stands
All along while the band was beating time
I guess time was beating the band
No more deadlines, no more breadlines
Mr 10%, you’re on your own
No more fine print, no more backstage blues
This rolling stone is rolling home
|
||||
6. |
How To Say Goodbye
03:10
|
|||
|
Took you down to the High Road
Where I’d taken you once before
Kissed you and left you crying
There behind the nursery door
From the day our children are born
Until the day we die
We keep on learning to let go
And how to say goodbye
Took you down to the station
Waited with you for a train
A kiss and a wave from the platform
Saw you homeward bound again
Took you in from the car
Walked you down the aisle
Kissed you goodbye at the reception
Once more you left me, with a smile
Walk me down to the station
Time that I went home again
Blow me a kiss from the platform to warm
An old man’s heart on the train
|
||||
7. |
Same Old Same Old
02:52
|
|||
|
The burglar bells chimed midnight
The sky was pouring down
My feet froze to the catwalk
But my head was homeward-bound
Same old blues
Same old back-street blues
My head is stuffed with nicotine
My throat is full of sand
My bloodstream is pure gin
I can't remember how to stand
Same old blues
Same old inner-city blues
The all-night bus is AWOL
I can't get to my bed
There's a tangle in my fingers
And a jangle in my head
Same old blues
Same old long-gone midnight blues
|
||||
8. |
Thomas Anderson
05:11
|
|||
|
We are but images of stone
Do us no harm
We can do none
St. Crispin and St. Crispian are we
On the arch of the Shoemaker’s arbour
High above the river on Kingsland we stood
On the gate to the hall of the shoemakers’ guild
Where the bakers, the tailors, the butchers, the smiths
And the saddlers too their guild arbours built.
Each year in procession the guilds gave a show
And marched through the town to the sound of the drum:
Then it’s back to Kingsland to feast and carouse
And enjoy the great day the guild members come.
We are but images of stone
Do us no harm
We can do none
St. Crispin and St. Crispian are we
On the arch of the Shoemaker’s arbour
On the 10th of June 1752
In a house called The Crown that stood on Pride Hill
John Richards’ workmen received a week’s pay
And there they stayed and drank their fill.
When a redcoat patrol chanced to pass by
The men mocked and reviled them with Jacobite songs
And who struck the first blow no-one was sure
But a bloody riot soon raged through the town.
The authorities trembled with passion and fear
When news of this Jacobite outburst was known
For the House of Hanover had won few hearts
And the Stuarts still plotted to win back the throne.
And so that same year, one raw day in December,
The rebellious townsfolk of Salop looked on
While below the old arch of the Shoemaker’s Arbour
They made an example of Tom Anderson
Who was once spared by death on the field of Culloden
Then joined the dragoons but deserted, they say,
Only to die on the banks of the Severn
By firing squad on a cold Winter’s day.
When the black velvet suit was stripped from his body
The Chevalier’s colours were beneath it, it’s said,
Received from the hands of Bonny Prince Charlie
Whose cause like young Thomas is broken and dead.
For it’s 200 years since Bonny Prince Charlie
Died drunk and embittered, an old man in Rome
While a century ago in the flowers of the Dingle
The old arbour gateway found a new home.
Now who’s to remember the Shoemakers’ Guild
Or the Jacobite rebels who fought for a throne?
And who’s left to grieve for Tom Anderson
But these two hearts of stone?
We are but images of stone
Do us no harm
We can do none
St. Crispin and St. Crispian are we
On the arch of the Shoemaker’s Arbour
|
||||
9. |
Paper City
05:24
|
|||
|
I woke up with my mind’s eye facing your direction:
I looked hard and I saw you needed help.
You’re choking on paper and tape and legislation
But you can’t produce one thing to help yourself.
Paper city at the heart of a paper empire
You’ve got strings to pull, you’ve got wires all over the earth.
Sky-climbing parasite, concrete and paper jungle
You’ve got money to burn, but I know you’d rather freeze to death.
You’ve got stacks of stocks and shares and bonds:
You’ve got telephone and telex, databank and dateline too.
But you can’t produce as much as one lead pencil,
Or a bar of soap, or a rubber band to pull you through.
The media twitch at the flash of a freemason’s handshake:
Speeches are made and the punters gather round
Paper politicians and faceless company men,
Taking the pulse of an ailing paper pound.
I bet you know just what you’re worth on paper:
When the market crumbles, what will that do to you?
A lot of cold people don’t own the earth they lie in:
Will you be all right in your green-lined paper tomb?
Paper city at the heart of a bankrupt empire:
Your towers get higher as your assets hit new lows.
Nose-diving parasite, I wouldn’t mind you dying,
But you’ll take so many with you when you go.
|
||||
10. |
Long Stand
03:00
|
|||
|
The day I started work, the foreman said to me,
“I’ve another job for you when you’ve finished brewing tea:
Go down to the stores and when you find old Stan,
Tell him Harry sent you for a long stand.”
I got a long stand all right: I stood an hour or more,
Till Stan got tired of the joke and sent me back to the shop floor.
Well I didn’t think it funny, but I laughed and held my peace,
Even when they sent me back for a tin of elbow grease.
Still I did my bit, till I was pensioned off in ’69
From apprentice to foreman, all down the production line.
Many’s the lad I’ve sent myself when things were getting dull
For a can of striped paint or a pound of rubber nails.
But the joke they’re playing now, I just don’t think it’s fair:
Even when you get your ticket, the work just isn’t there.
The safest job in England is handing out the dole:
For every man that gets a job they turn away a hundred more.
For now the work is scarce, again, the queues are building up.
The streets are full of lads and lasses looking out for jobs;
But when you’ve just left school, you hardly stand a chance
They’re sending every lad in England for a long stand.
They say that if you’ve got the gumption you can do just as you please.
They say you’ll do all right with a bit of elbow grease;
But with a hundred out for every job, it’s few that stand a chance
They’re sending every lad in England for a long stand
They’re sending every lass in England for a long, long stand
|
||||
11. |
Diane (Going Out)
05:22
|
|||
|
So much of her life she’s spent on wards like this
With panic locked behind her eyes and dressings on her wrists.
But last time I saw Diane, she was beating a long, long drop:
I like to think it’s not only the scum that makes it to the top.
They feed her love in millivolts, and faith in plastic spoons
Sometimes it all washes out, and she has to rush out of the room
Sometimes she hits out; mostly, she turns on herself
And in rage and desperation she seeks out the razor’s edge
But last time I saw Diane, she was beating a long, long drop:
I like to think it’s not only the scum that makes it to the top.
There’s an old man in her mirror with his own tale to tell
He has words like “communicate” and “socialize” to sell
He’s promised her that she’s learning how to crawl out of her shell
She says “He’ll get my head together, on the next cool day in hell...”
Salvation comes expensive, by the litre or the gramme
But she holds on to her anger, if that’s all that comes to hand
It’s a sword that has two edges, but she’s learning to survive
And when she’s closest to dying, anger tells her that she’s alive
But last time I saw Diane, she was beating a long, long drop:
I like to think it’s not only the scum that makes it to the top.
Now she’s going out again, to meet her life head on
Hanging with the world, as it might be by her thumbs
Most of what I’d like to say sounds trite, sounds absurd
But we’ve been lovers and we’ve been friends, and we’ve never needed those words
Next time I see Diane, she’ll still be beating the drop
I wish I could be half the person she is, if only I had half the guts
|
||||
12. |
||||
|
The Abbey watches my train crawling Southwards
Thoughts of Cadfael kneeling in his cell
All along the Marches line, myth and history
Prose and rhyme
But these are tales I won't be here to tell
The hill is crouching like a cat at play
Its beacon flashing red across the plain
Once we were all friends around the Wrekin
But some will never pass this way again
Lawley and Caradoc fill my window
Facing down the Long Mynd, lost in rain
But I'm weighed down with the creaks and groans
Of all the years I've known
And I don't think I'll walk these hills again
Stokesay dreams its humble glories
Stories that will never come again
Across the Shropshire hills
The rain is blowing still
But the Marcher Lords won't ride this way again
The royal ghosts of Catherine and Arthur
May walk the paths of Whitcliffe now and then
Housman's ashes grace
The Cathedral of the Marches
He will not walk Ludlow's streets again
The hill is crouching like a cat at play
Its beacon flashing red across the plain
Once we were all friends around the Wrekin
But some will never pass this way again
And I may never pass this way again
|
||||
13. |
Song of Chivalry
02:21
|
|||
|
When M’Lord returned
To his sheets of silk
And his gentle lady
Of musk and milk
The minstrels sang
In the gallery
Their songs of slaughter
And chivalry
The rafters roared
With laughter and boasting
Goblets were raised and drained
In toasting
The heroes of Crécy
And Agincourt
Or the madness
Of some holy war
The hawk is at rest
On the gauntlet once more
Savage of eye
And bloody of claw
Famine and fever
Are all the yield
Of the burnt-out barns
And wasted fields
The sun grins coldly
Through the trees
The children shiver
The widows grieve
And beg their bread
At the monastery door
Tell me then
Who won the war?
|
||||
14. |
Cornish Ghosts
04:14
|
|||
15. |
Coasting
04:58
|
|||
|
The nights pass slowly, but they pass:
The days are paper-thin.
Life goes on much as usual:
Some games I lose, some I win.
Sometimes I feel that I’m sleepwalking
Through the streets of this grey city,
But then, it’s only been a month or two.
It’s not the first time that I’ve coasted
Through the routine chores of living
And I’ll make it this time too
After you…
Today I walked in sunlight though the wind blew cold
Through my coat:
I thought about the coming spring, and I swear somewhere
I felt a twinge of hope.
I don’t expect to hear from you. I guess that’s how it should be:
There’s no point in chasing dreams that won’t come true.
It’s not the first time that I’ve coasted through the aftermath of loving
And I’ll make it this time too
After you…
Sometimes I take a weekend walk by these muddy city shores
And old man river talks to me
But I can’t quite understand: my feet stay locked to the dry land
So he drifts on with the seasons out to sea
The weeks pass slowly but they pass
And I drift from phase to phase.
I’m sick of wishing you were here to help me
Through these bleak and restless days.
Sometimes I think I’m waking into another nightmare,
But it passes, as these feelings often do.
It’s not the first time I’ve been lonely, nor the first time I’ve been left,
And I’ll make it this time too
After you…
|
||||
16. |
Two Is A Silence
02:22
|
|||
|
Two isn’t company, three is a crowd
Two is a silence, three is too loud
Two is a silence gets harder to break
But three always leaves one left over
Three into two isn’t good for the head
It’s no problem in math, but it’s bad news in bed
And it’s one for an ace and two for a pair
But three always leaves one left over
When we’re alone somehow he’s always there
You say it’s the same when you two are the pair
So it’s one for sorrow and two for joy
But three always leaves one left over
All the shouting is over and dead
Somehow there’s nothing much else to be said
And it’s one for the money and two for the show
But three always leaves one left over
|
||||
17. |
Sea Fret
06:18
|
|||
|
Black cat in my path today / Black news chilled me to the marrow
Black cloud standing in my way / Two birds of prey and one for sorrow
A little chaos flown from my life / Too late to hope for one last summer
A sea fret hides the harbour / A cold wind blows off the sea
You lie somewhere I'll never find you / And no-one's lying next to me
And surely these are not the places / That we were meant to be
Long ago you blew into my life / Like a friendly hurricane
Near misses, French kisses / Then you'd be gone again
Till later you'd drop by / And break my heart again
Sometimes I was sure I loved you
Sometimes I even think that you loved me
But there was always something else
Somewhere else you had to be
Always something in the way / Someone else you had to see
Though I always knew we'd drive each other crazy
My fevered heart still hoped someday
I'd find you waiting round the corner
For someone I hoped some day to be
Waiting there for someone / I never could quite be
Mist rolls up the mountain / A cold wind blows off the sea
There's no ledge for us to meet on / And no-one's lying next to me
And surely these are not the places / That we were meant to be
|
||||
18. |
Hands of the Craftsman
05:33
|
|||
|
Minutes ago as God measures time
Something manlike emerged from primordial slime:
Ever since, Mother Nature has been on the run
From a hand with four fingers and opposable thumb.
That hand learned to grip, then it learned to make
Flint into a weapon, then a tool to shape,
To build and to kill, and around then it learned
To strike sparks to bring fire and lighten man’s world.
The hands of the craftsman have moulded our world
From the first stone axe to the first steam drill
To the harvester, laser, and silicon chip
But the hands of the craftsman are losing their grip.
The years roll on swift with the birth of the wheel
Man learned to work bronze, then iron and steel:
The bow drill, the pole lathe, the compass, the lock
The lens, the sextant, the lantern, the clock,
Castings and mouldings, extrusions and pressings
The bandsaw, the dropforge, the milling machine.
The tools and the skills have changed through the centuries
The crafts and the knowledge, if seldom the dreams.
The builder could turn his hand to most trades
Masonry, joinery, plumbing and all.
The engineer trained on a score of machines
Now it’s often just one – he’s in luck if it’s more.
Modularization's the name of the game
It means that they put you on just one machine,
One or two operations on just the one part
It’s efficient, but de-skilling’s what it means.
One day we’re skilled men, the next, operators
The next, no-one knows if we’ll be there at all.
The art passes into the programmer’s hands
Tomorrow, machines will service themselves…
The glazier, the bellfounder, printers and knappers
Dyers and weavers, some are already lost:
Prefabrication will see out the tiler
As the thatcher before him learned to his cost.
The paviour, the saddler, the cooper, the wheelwright
Fitters and grinders and turners and smiths,
We all take our turn in the pattern of process
And one by one, we’re taking our leave
|
||||
19. |
Her Own Way Down
02:42
|
|||
|
She’ll have to learn to make her own way down
Or learn to lean on someone else
Now her good man’s not around
She’ll have to learn to make her own way down
She’ll have to make her own way in the dark
Though I tried so hard to warn her
Somehow I always missed my mark
She’ll have to make her own way in the dark
I’ll have to find my own path through the rain
I got by without her once
I guess I can again
I’ll have to find my own path through the rain
I’m crying now, but not forever, wait and see
Though once we loved each other
And she was so good for me
Nothing lasts forever, wait and see
She’ll have to learn to make her own way down
Or learn to lean on someone else
Now her good man’s not around
She’ll have to learn to make her own way down
|
||||
20. |
Here Tomorrow
05:03
|
|||
|
You don’t have to talk, you know it’s really not a case
Of finding words for filling in our time and space
I’ll still be here tomorrow, if that’s what you want too
Who else could take me where we’ve been?
No-one else but you
The day was a river of darkness
Till you brightened up the night
And that’s the best of good reasons
To come close and turn down the light
There’s a lot to say, a lot I guess we should discuss
But surely later would be soon enough
I’ll still be here tomorrow, if that’s what you want too
Who else could take me where we’ve been?
No-one else but you
It’s not the time for true confessions
Lying here still aglow
With all your warmth and softness
God knows there’s nowhere else I’d want to go
We could talk of time and changes, good trips and bad
And just for once time is on our side
But now’s the time for loving and resting so close
And yesterday is dreams and nursery rhymes
I’ll still be here tomorrow, if that’s what you want too
Who else could take me where we’ve been?
No-one else but you
Who else could take me where we’ve been?
No-one else but you
|
||||
21. |
Moonflow VI
02:35
|
|||
David A. Harley England, UK
David Harley is a former professional musician, administrator, IT security editor, author and researcher, and former much else that is even less impressive. He now lives in Cornwall. More info at whealalice.com
David A. Harley recommends:
Too many excellent tracks to list one.
go to albumIf you like David A. Harley, you may also like:
featured on Bandcamp Radio Sep 29, 2015
go to album
Lost Where I Belong
by Andreya Triana
featured on Bandcamp Radio Mar 17, 2015
go to album
Lullaby (Shigeto Remix)
by Andreya Triana
featured on Bandcamp Radio Dec 22, 2015
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Mar 10, 2015
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Jan 27, 2015
go to album
