The Strange Death of Pigeon Chest....

Pigeon Chest was the most beautiful boy in the history of the world. His bones were a perfectly sculpted marble, wrapped in the most delicate sheath of immaculate pale skin . His hair and eyes were dark and wild, a thin layer of muscle tensed and contracted with his every move like some wild forest creature.

He was adored by girls and boys alike, he made the young feel alive, and filled the aging with a desire to consume him, to feed off of his youth and vitality. Pigeon Chest embraced the attentions of all, and made time for everyone, he lived to be celebrated and was never short of a captive audience, all he needed was two eyes fixed hungrily on him, no matter of age or gender.

Pigeon Chest was a romantic, a real modern dandy, and would only meet his enchanted lovers in one destination, free from the confines of the real world, just outside of the city, untouched by modern hands, far from parents, rules and television screens, a place the local children had whispered of for generations, a haven that had come to be know as called Death Walk Bridge. The story goes that this crumbling old crossing, with its burst of greenery, like the hair for an old mans nose and ears, had once covered a stream that on one June day a teenage bride-to-be, unable to live with the idea of losing her purity had thrown herself into, never to surface.

Pigeon Chest liked this story. No matter what lover held him he would always close his eyes at the point of ecstasy and picture the bride, forever untouched, the barer of a will he could never muster.

His lovers would come with gifts, they would try to impress him with stories of their wealth, intelligence and strength, those that could would offer to take him away to some romantic city and treat him like a prince until the end of time, but Pigeon Chest would not go. Commitment was a crime he thought, and lasting love a made up burden, another shackle on pleasure and joy and he would never allow himself to fall into such a trap.

Then one afternoon Pigeon Chest arrived at Death Walk Bridge, his pockets as empty as his mind, ready to come to life, but this time no suitor was waiting. He stayed there alone for hours, and when darkness fell he sighed deeply and returned home.

Normality returned the following day, and the day after that, and for many days ahead, the gifts and adulation as heavy as always. But then there was another day where he was to wait alone, then within the same week another. These lonesome hours under the bridge were building with each passing month, Pigeon Chest would sit for hours on the stump of some ancient tree, looking into a small pocket mirror, questioning every mark on his pale face. The more he looked the more he found, the tiny lines around his mouth, the darkening skin bellow his eyes, every new blemish was like a hard kick to the ribs. One day he tried to calculate when he had taken his first lover, it was no longer months, but years. It was not a fault of his that he was now alone, it was the fault of time, age was not wisdom, it was decay.

Pigeon Chest stopped going to the bridge. He couldn’t handle the rejection. His days and nights were filled with nothingness. He tried to read, but he hated every hero, hated the romance and full lives of the characters. He would sit in front of the television, but found the perfect bodies off all that crossed the screen to be a mockery of his former glory.

Pigeon Chest came to life in the eyes of others, he needed the mirror of a human eye to see himself clearly, so when those eyes were gone he was as good as dead.

One June day Pigeon Chest went back to Death Walk Bridge, with a dusty half bottle and a short length of rope, he stood on top of the old bricks, and in a moment of calm resignation he stepped forward to meet his bride.

 

STAY YOUNG IN WORD FORM....

AMERICAN DREAMS

Tell me do you mean a single thing you say,
or are you just leaking words?
Giving it a name 'cos everybody says,
"its the time for growing up"

I love you! I don't care! I'm excited! I despair!
Say, is this the dream America?
We can share our fears! You've got issues? Are those tears?
Say, is this the dream America?

Tell me things to make me feel better,
tell me I'm alright,
I love you, you make me feel better,
and get me through the night.

Watching from the front as a generation falls,
we're just looking up from bended knees.
I would rather die as a failure but a trier,
than be just another casualty.

I love you! I don't care! I'm excited! I despair!
Say, is this the dream America?
We can share our fears! You've got issues? Are those tears?
Say, is this the dream America?

Tell me things to make me feel better,
tell me I'm alright,
I love you, you make me feel better,
and get me through the night.

TOYS

She's in control, she unique,
the tattoo on her wrist told me.
She always cries, before she sleeps,
the supermarket wine cuts deep.

I want more than keeping score,
I want hopes and dreams,
I want more than keeping score,
give yourself to me.

He's got his toys, his games of war,
he turns it on and locks the door.
He used to dream of easy girls,
now he doesn't dream at all.

I want more than keeping score,
I want hopes and dreams,
I want more than keeping score,
give yourself to me.

You are the one,
you are the one.

He tells me that he loves me, but sometimes that isn't enough,
I just want to be desired.

KILLING TIME
The tragedy of our lives, is that we don't get to spend enough time,
doing those things that remind us all that we're human.
I'm staying out late at night, and getting up early just to make things right,
I didn't lie when I said that this would be forever.

I don't call, but neither do you,
we're killing time, but what else are we going to do

Another life, that I forgot,
I split my head so I can spill my thoughts,
I twitch in my dreams from the memory of something better.
I'm giving up all I've got,
your kisses fail when you smile so hard,
I want to be the one to make you whole to make you happy.

I don't call, but neither do you,
we're killing time, but what else are we going to do.


WAVES

Hold me down, teach me to beg,
show me the joys of suspense.
You are the curse on my waves,
drown me to get me home safe,
you're everything I wanted and your everything I need,
suddenly forever is so clear to me.

Face me down, prove me wrong
I was never in control of this, you were never in control of this.

I breath in as you breath out,
the one life support I have found.
you're everything I wanted and your everything I need,
suddenly forever is so clear to me.

Face me down, prove me wrong
I was never in control of this, you were never in control of this.


PIGEON CHEST

You're telling me I'm beautiful when you can see my bones,
you're telling me I'm everything you could every want.
Meet me down by the death walk bridge where romance goes to die
and tell me that I'll always be the apple of your eye.

Ten white horses circling my head,
I'm dizzy but it all makes sense.
Kiss me on my pigeon chest,
and say you'll love me until the end.

Every day I'm waking up to curse the march of time,
'cos nobody wants to celebrate the aging of a child.
I will  be down by the death walk bridge where romance goes to die,
where I can stay young until the end of time.

Ten white horses circling my head,
I'm dizzy but it all makes sense.
Kiss me on my pigeon chest,
and say you'll love me until the end.

DREAMERS

With everybody talking all the time, no one's listening,
so we get mixed up.
Just give yourself a second, to catch your breath,
you've been going red,
almost every day.
We've got to find a reason to chase our tails,
so we never see
what's in front of us.

After hours of regret I realise I'm not bothered,
there's always tomorrow, when I'll pay back everything I've borrowed.

Find the best religion to fit your life,
find yourself a way
to forget everything.
With all the new suspicions justified,
just go back to work,
just get back to work.

After hours of regret I realise I'm not bothered,
there's always tomorrow, when I'll pay back everything I've borrowed.

I'm dead if I don't ask,
this comes as no surprise.


Westminster Ghost Story

Westminster drowns under the blood of thieves,
the falling masks of liars and cowards fill the streets.
Im looking for a fight, Im looking for a cause,
all my friends and enemies are blurring into one.

Im dreams its the 30's, Im dreaming Im in Spain,
facing death with my head high,
two bullets in my brain.

I've never felt so far from home,
so happy being alone.
Just fire up the blade on the guillotine,
we'll see what heads will roll,
there's strangers on the throne.

Ten working hours, seven days a week,
putting it on the credit card, just so I can eat.
When you've no arrows left for the bow,
run for the target and take it by force.

Ive got no faith in the name by the box,
when all you see is dicks all you're gonna get is fucked.
We're the broken limb the nation must forget,
going to cut us off so the other half can live.



BELL STREET

I will sit and count the bars on my window
and start a faith from the hole that's in my wall.
I've been treading water like a champion,
I hear my neighbours but I don't know their names...

I'm running on empty,
I'm running on nothing at all,
running on empty,
I'm giving up....

I slept for twelve hours today
tomorrow I wont sleep,
I dream by day and choke myself at night.
The man in black says he's taking me down to Bell Street,
'cos I've been acting funny in the town...

I'm running on empty,
I'm running on nothing at all,
running on empty,
I'm giving up....

I'll stagger through this town,
a saviour is all I want.
Bad poets will turn into clowns,
what's freedom when there's no one around....


FUTURE LIONHEART

Living each night for the morning after, in the rush to be tagged and be seen with the best of boys. Propped up like a wounded soldier between two grinning pillars, on the way back from a jager bombed, fish bowl front line.
I liked you better when you punched my face, I liked you better when you were all fingers and thighs and the worst kind of dirty talk, rushing towards another sexual misadventure,
LOOK WITH YOUR EYES AND NOT YOUR HANDS!

Keep them drunk and keep them dumb,
an old solution for the young,
its hard to fight with your hands by your side.
Does this city ever sleep, the walking dead can have no sleep,
just marching single file towards the grave.

We're the generation with nothing to die for.
We're the generation with nothing to die for.

Keep one picture locked away, a portrait of a devils face,
Dorian would blush if he saw it.
Welcome to the hangover, the smell of sulphur fills the air,
we're marching single file towards the grave.

We're the generation with nothing to die for.
We're the generation with nothing to die for.

Angles sounding out their horns will fly into the thunder storm,
if this is not a judgement I'll be damned.


GOODNIGHT STALLION


I had it all then it disappeared, now Im just watching the clock.
I was the stallion of yester-year, now I just long to be touched.
Days get so vague, as everything blurs into one,
I've felt no pain, since I got left out of love.

So I float, out of myself.

I will float so high you'll never get my feet on the ground,
I will burn so bright Im going to leave my body behind.

I was the rock of the family home, strong and unquestionable,
now Im just part of the furniture, I'm in the house not the home.
Days get so vague, as everything blurs into one,
I've felt no pain, since I got left out of love.

So I float, out of myself.

I will float so high you'll never get my feet on the ground,
I will burn so bright Im going to leave my body behind.

We were the Horsemen, and we'll ride again,
we were the Horsemen, we'll ride until the road ends.


FADES

I'm counting in years where it used to be months,
gin fuelled dreams and affairs of the heart,
losing my site to impossible books,
long dead Russians and suicide stars.
Another night is lost, to the underground,
I'm not like I was, I'm much better now

I don't know, if I'm moving forward,
or is this just circles in the dark.

Sometimes it feels like I'm talking too much,
but these lips aren't moving at all.
Trying to keep these emotions in check,
140 characters or less.

I don't know, if I'm moving forward,
or is this just circles in the dark.

I can't stop fading away, I sold my soul today,
now cut cut cut me in half,
and choose which side to have.


X X X

STAYING YOUNG TAKES FOREVER.....

Our new album, Stay Young, will be released this coming Monday, February 24th. 

It has felt like a marathon process, during which I'm sure we have made a heap of mistakes. But its all done now, our hands are clean and we are proud of what we've put together. 

We started recording the album on January 9th 2013 at Seagate studio in Dundee with the magician Graeme Watt. We had about 18 songs in mind when we started recording the album, some never even made it onto tape, others were recorded and then binned. And then there was a couple that were written at the last minute and squeezed in. As usual we had no money when we started the album so, much like with our first album, recording was a fractured process that spread over a period of months, with us going into the studio whenever we could get enough money together for a session. 

We finished the recording in summer 2013, and had it completely mixed and mastered by August. We had grand plans that we would really "do something" with this album so decided to hold off on the release so we could try a get a glorious plan together, get some people involved to help us and really make an impact. Things never really played out as we planned, nothing was really coming together as we hoped they would, and by December we came to the conclusion that we would probably all be dead by the time we were at the stage we wanted to be for the release so we set a date and decided to put the album out ourselves. We figured it was best just to get the album into the ears of the public than to sit on it in the hope that we might by some fluke become international megastars. 

As is a theme with us, we didn't have the spare couple of grand sitting about to pay a PR company to get the album into the right blogs and magazines, and have no mates in the industry, so we continued with the DIY approach and have all spent many nights emailing literally hundreds of media outlets, large and small, in the hope that some of them will listen to the album and perhaps review it. So far we have had one reply, from the lovely Olga at Rock Britain. So our success rate is sitting at about 0.5%. This has left us a bit defeated, and with the sad realisation that with any future releases we are going to have to play the game a whole lot more, and approach it with heap of cash behind us. Perhaps we will become dandy bank robbers or the worlds campest muggers. If we are to suddenly get a heap of great media buzz on our next release you will know that a few of us are missing organs or have done some sinister things that we are not proud of, nothing happens organically. 

I don't want to sound like I'm being a bit of a moan, but I think that we have to be completely honest in everything we do, its all we have. 

Stay Young....

AMERICAN DREAMS

TOYS

KILLING TIME

WAVES

PIGEON CHEST

DREAMERS

WESTMINSTER GHOST STORY

BELL STREET

FUTURE LIONHEART

GOODNIGHT STALLION

FADES

I hope you enjoy the album. 

We never stop writing, and have a ton of new songs ready to go, so perhaps we will release two albums this year, or three. Or maybe we will implode and never be seen again. 

Much love 

X X X

2014

We have been doing all the boring music related stuff recently, the dull things that come with releasing an album. We haven't played a gig since November last year, it is driving me a little insane, I want to get out among the madness again. Here are some things that have been keeping me amused in the down time....

WRITING... album number two doesn't come out for another few weeks but we already have a bunch of new songs for the next one written and demoed. We are not very good at sitting still. Every time we see a good band or hear a good album we want to write straight away. This is the first bunch of songs we've written as a five piece, so that has given an additional creative edge. Who knows, maybe after a dull 2013 we might release two albums in 2014. Maybe, just maybe.

GAME OF THRONES... I am not really a fan of Lord of The Rings. A fact that confuses the rest of the band, one or two of them are real LOTR geeks. I've seen the first two films, and just didn't get into it. Therefor, I didn't really expect to enjoy Game of Thrones. I figured it would be a similar sort of scenario. Oh how wrong I was!!! I got the box-set as a Christmas present and have been totally hooked. I cant sit and watch countless episodes of a show all at once, so the process has been reasonably slow, but I am a fan. I think I may love John Snow more than any other man in history. I love that bastard. I'm about to start series three. I am excited.

WARPAINT...the new Warpaint album is incredible. I loved their first album and EP as well, but the new album is a bit less "jazzy" and a bit more focused, the songs are unreal, and it sounds so bloody good.

THE THE...I bought an album by The The a few years back when I was in the middle of a real 80s post-punk binge, but I couldn't really get into it. That was before I heard This Is The Day, which is one of the best songs I've heard in a long time, I have no idea how I could have avoided it up until now. This lead me to buy the Soul Mining album and I have since become a total fan boy.

STAR WARS...I was a late bloomer with Star Wars, I hadn't seen any of the films until about two years ago, at which point I watched all of them in six consecutive nights. Recently I've been watching them all again. I think I might be getting scared of real life, I spent all of my spare time watching fantasy and sci-fi films and TV shows.

SOBRIETY...without wanting to sound like one of those awful "new year, new me" people, I have so far been completely sober in 2014. It is an odd feeling. Booze was creating too many black moods, so I decided to give it up for a while. In a strange coincidence I now have more money, weeeeeeird.

Essentially I have become a complete geek and hermit this year. We need to start playing live again soon, otherwise I'll be giving up sex as well and turning to Jesus. Save me rock n' roll, save me soon.....

X X X

Shiver and shake...

Its just gone eight am. Each strike of the church bell rings through my body and makes my brain contract, I shiver, close my eyes tightly and take my next step. I can’t quite work out where the bell is coming from, there are two churches nearby but I wouldn’t have considered either of them to be active. If "active" is the correct term for churches? Do they still function, as they would back when they were a central part of every town and city? The process of ringing a church bell is completely alien to me, its such and old fashioned job, like chimney sweeping or lighting street lamps, perhaps its now done through some computerised system. A side of me hope there is still an old guy with a limp and a dusty jacket at the top of the bell town, counting the minutes, rope in hand. I’m sure Google could answer all of these questions, but the thought of getting my phone from my pocket and typing on the tiny keyboard does not appeal to me right now, so I just pull my coat around me tighter and walk on.

I’m going to make it to work on time. I have fifteen minutes until I need to be at my desk, and calculate I can be there in ten if I keep up this pace. I smile at a middle aged lady in a neat two piece suit as I take a corner sharply and have to step out of her way. I’m doing everything I can to seem human, I think that by adding an overly jolly element to my movements I can counterbalance the hell that’s going on inside my body, I imagine the two battling elements will meet in the middle and make me appear like the average weekday morning commuter. This is not working, I catch a glimpse of myself in a betting shop window, I look like some deranged tramp-dandy, tipping my cap at all who pass, giving a crooked smile and a wink through a blackened, blood-shot eye. The length of my jacket, and the fact that I’m wearing fingerless gloves, combined with my current manner, make me look like some street criminal in a Dickens story.

I work for one of those giant global companies that wants to be your friend, that wants to save the rainforest and cure aids, but which makes its million through cheap Bangladeshi labour and underpays its staff at every turn, always concealing quite how much profit it actually makes, instead telling us only that “sales are down” on what they had predicted, therefore justifying another year without a pay rise. A comfortable couch, well stocked vending machine and a wacky lampshade in the staff room keep the workers quietly contented.

You’ll find me in the service side of the business, I’m the guy you call and shout at when the piece of cheaply made, mass produced shit that you paid a whopping £7.99 for hasn’t brought a sufficient amount of sunshine into your life. For the last seven years every straw has been the last straw, yet I’m still here, soldiering on. When you think about it, there are few things that man can’t withstand and turn into a routine over a sufficient amount of time. It is one of our more worrying skills, but a skill all the same.

Nights like last night start out as a coping mechanism for the every day grind, but soon become part of the problem. When half passed ten comes around, and that third drink has been finished, the worries of the day seem eased, your mind has been cleared and you could easily nod off to sleep. In a cruel and irritating twist that third drink is also around about the point that your mind becomes open to the possibilities of the night.

Suddenly its 4am and your on your knees in the casino, picking up the pieces of your mobile phone from a sticky, bright coloured carpet that makes your stomach feel weird, as a permanently miffed bouncer stands over you, telling you its probably time to go home. You don’t have enough money left to get a taxi, so once you’ve completed the walk you’ll have about two hours maximum to sleep this off before the start of the new day. A similar scene plays out far too often, but the lesson is never learned. The idea of working for ten hours only to go straight home and recharge for the next working day makes me feel sick, I want to grab a few tiny snippets of life where I can. Ideally this could be done in the place of the meaningless work I do, but rent, bills and bad habits mean I have to spend the majority of the day in an plastic, overly air conditioned hell. Sleep is really the only part of the day that can be sacrificed.

Going home feels like a defeat, especially in those times when you find yourself free and unanchored, when there is no work to be done, no extra-curricular activities to partake in, and no loving arms to go home to, no one relying on you or waiting for you. Those are the times you start to see into the abyss. It sort of explains the modern phenomena of late night Facebook emotion, thinly veiled calls for help, being alone and without focus is a terrifying thing. I worry in these moments, If I were to find myself floating free over a prolonged period of time how far into depravity could I fall? I often walk the streets, looking for something but not knowing quite what, and sadly it is the quick fixes that are so readily available. I drink to feel something, but that something always turns out to be regret.


 

KILLING TIME

Another blog post to accompany another single.

Killing Time is a song about not getting to do the things that make us feel human. I was uncertain about the first line to start with and considered changing it.

"the tragedy of our lives is that we don't get to spend enough time doing those things that remind us all that we're human"

I thought it was maybe a bit too melodramatic and blunt. But the more I thought about it, the more apparent it was that it summed up exactly what I meant to say. I often have that moment of doubt when writing songs, when a line stands out as being a bit obvious, not "cool" or poetic enough. Thankfully this passes quickly, when I realise that I don't really give a fuck. There are too many songs out there that mean nothing at all, but are just a collection of well known phrases and made up ideas and scenarios, songs about "that girl" or some made up heart-ache, the radio is a constant hum of nothingness.

Killing Time is about all the time spent considering actions, and not actually committing to them. It's about the things we want to do, the things we've promised to do, but find ourselves distracted from. It is a sort of apology I suppose. It doesn't go much further than that.

Killing Time is released on February 3rd, and will be out on most of the big online music stores, iTunes, Amazon and the likes.


KILLING TIME

The tragedy of our lives, is that we don't get to spend enough time,
doing those things that remind us all that we're human.
I'm staying out late at night, and getting up early just to make things right,
I didn't lie when I said that this would be forever.

I don't call, but neither do you,
we're killing time, but what else are we going to do

Another life, that I forgot,
I split my head so I can spill my thoughts,
I twitch in my dreams from the memory of something better.
I'm giving up all I've got,
your kisses fail when you smile so hard,
I want to be the one to make you whole to make you happy.

I don't call, but neither do you,
we're killing time, but what else are we going to do.


X X X