1. |
Four Hours
05:02
|
|||
|
Four Hours
There’s no winning, there’s no glory,
Just an old familiar story;
I have grown you skin black flowers,
It’s the answer to my hours.
I can see you in the courtyard,
Where the ground windows are all barred;
And the crackheads keep on screaming,
Like an answer to my dreaming.
All hope is lost
In under four hours.
Take me back to your apartment,
Let me see the gifts that I sent;
They may prove that there was something,
Filled this space for there was nothing.
Check the dates upon your calendar,
This way I can malinger;
Like the river through the canyon,
Could you be my one companion?
All hope is lost
In under four hours.
|
||||
2. |
Candles & Keychains
05:17
|
|||
|
Candles and Key Chains
The trees and the stanchions
Are windswept,
Rusted red, coloured blood
From the sky above.
I think the sky is shivering,
It dances,
Like candles and key chains.
A sudden metamorphosis
Seems lucid and fake,
Like what I’m really seeing is
My eyes turning opaque.
White-walled silence,
The reverence of Fridays,
Playing on and under tables;
It’s dinner time,
It’s dinner time.
You’re right,
Well it really isn’t fair,
But it looks like
The death of summer, she said.
The trees and the stanchions
Are windswept,
Rusted red, coloured blood
From the sky above.
I think the sky is shivering,
It dances,
Like candles and key chains.
You’re right,
Well it really isn’t fair,
But it looks like
The death of summer, she said.
|
||||
3. |
Static at Curtain Call
05:44
|
|||
|
Static at Curtain Call
My inside
Has been retired;
I’m still
Under construction.
But you know what they say,
A hollow vessel makes the most sound.
These words of a semblance
Rattle around and come tumbling out,
Only twice as loud,
And without any meaning;
A stifled cadence,
Of thought, and it’s lost.
‘Cause I’m losing
Any feeling at all;
Flying into small storms
Then folding and falling.
Like static
At curtain call.
But you know what they say,
A hollow vessel makes the most sound.
These words of a semblance
Rattle around and come tumbling out.
Like static
At curtain call.
|
||||
4. |
A Hundred Hotel Rooms
02:30
|
|||
|
A hundred hotel rooms
A hundred hotel rooms
Are already tarnished;
Blood on our clothes,
Hand-smears on the windows,
And what shall we see today darling?
What shall we see today darling?
A hundred hotel rooms hide
Our darkest secrets,
And in the reception you
Danced me a grave.
“Well being with you
I must be such a fool,”
I slept through the cab-ride,
But still heard you say.
A hundred hotel rooms
Are already tarnished;
Blood on our clothes,
Hand-smears on the windows,
And what shall we see today darling?
What shall we see today darling?
Old England is dying
The drunkard kept screaming,
And the Jesus freaks
Kept their beat,
Saying how the world
Would be ending so soon;
They’d be winching away the sun
And the moon
Into darkness;
Into darkness.
A hundred hotel rooms
Are already tarnished;
Blood on our clothes,
Hand-smears on the windows,
And what shall we see today darling?
What shall we see today darling?
|
||||
5. |
The Victorious Parade
05:46
|
|||
|
The Victorious Parade
Every cliché comes true when you're lonely,
There are storm clouds for endings & sunshine for beginnings;
The victorious parade whilst you end up in the gutter,
Or stranded in some bar staring at some other.
Come darling, don’t come,
But just don’t leave me alone.
Scream darling, don’t scream,
You know you’re killing me.
The rain blows in through open glass doors,
& there's nowhere to shelter from it anymore;
& the summer's forgotten though it's only July
In the snow-globe of your kisses & your lies.
Every cliché comes true when you're lonely.
You said there is still life if you want there to be,
There are things I could give, could you give them to me?
But all the constructs you already knew to be untrue,
Rear up their heads, bear their teeth & devour you.
There are signs that others have been here before,
Like skeletons stacked against unbolted doors,
Who were still in love though they knew they were alone,
So pulled down the other to build up a home.
But still I wanted to forget,
Your hair on my clothes like the smell of happiness;
There are truths within the silences no matter how small,
I just so wanted to hear you say anything at all.
Come darling, don’t come,
But just don’t leave me alone.
Scream darling, don’t scream,
You know you’re killing me.
Everything's a cliché when you're lonely.
|
||||
6. |
Suddenly it Matters
04:43
|
|||
|
Suddenly it Matters
A fire on the lake,
The sirens scream;
Cinder your memories
Like ash in the air.
Suddenly it matters what time it is.
What can I say?
Are you scared in the sheets?
Here’s what I think,
Blame me to sleep.
Suddenly it matters what time it is.
I’m moving slowly
Through your rage tonight,
And even your silences
Could burn me alive.
|
||||
7. |
||||
|
Mosquitoes in Stereo
The glass smashed before the screaming began,
The doors answered with a strophe of slams,
And there was no sleep,
Only dreams that were ragged.
And I ask for nothing but static.
I tried to be green and fruitful,
But sometimes I think we should let the world bleed,
Or give it back to the animals,
Oh the animals.
And I ask for nothing but static.
These modern days have brought me so low,
So I’ve made my sound like mosquitoes in stereo,
Buzzing through the happy hour
Like a wave of North Korean bombs.
And I ask for nothing but static.
|
||||
8. |
||||
|
Horse Badorties’ Last Apartment
No skirt hung low, or feelings wrought,
No making tears or spacious talk.
Your body gone, my memories,
Are luckless towns and autumn leaves,
Are separate sides on dirty sheets.
Pill popping stragglers
passed-out starving;
Fleeting rush
of unpaid fortune lingering...
these high-wrap Rizla dreams.
The city rising
a blanket around them;
Horse Badorties breaking through
to one final apartment of chaos.
O spare me your sympathy,
and the six o’clock greyhound leaving without me,
O there it goes, there it goes!
Awaiting the cool storm
back to dark corners;
These are the Laundromat diaries.
All the luck of Fante
and the speed of Cassidy.
And the six o’clock greyhound leaving without me;
O there it goes, there it goes!
Are you gonna steal my words?
Are you the fiction thief?
‘Cause there’s something dead on the floor,
And I think it could be part of me.
So I’m crawling like an amputee,
Nuns with guns shooting at Bandini;
Wake from my wet drug dream,
Sticky and bloody and full of need.
So watch Pop Idol on TV,
I am the one who votes out me,
O spare me your sympathy
And the six o’clock greyhound leaving without me,
O there it goes,
There it goes.
|
||||
9. |
Yesterdays Song
06:43
|
|||
|
Yesterdays Song
When you’d say to me
Why am I alone so?
What have I lost?
What have I lost?
Could you lend me something please?
I need to make a phone call.
I don’t know who I’m calling yet...
I’m immune to misery,
So why am I lonely?
Why do I doubt?
Why do I doubt?
There’s blood on my feet,
I’m walking on glass now,
Tread it in the carpet,
Oh stop me Lou Reed.
Could you sing me something please?
I need to hear a voice now,
Oh since you last spoke to me
It’s been three weeks, two days and seven hours.
Would you tell me something please?
All I hear is silence.
Oh just say anything, anything,
What have I done?
Can’t you come to visit me?
I’ve been alone for so long I don’t remember
The sound of my own doorbell.
Speak to me,
Tell me about yesterday
And yesterdays song,
The one with the words that you’d always ignored;
And when I told your secrets
There were only ten people there anyway.
Singing yesterdays song,
‘Bout all of my lonesome,
‘Bout all of my doubt.
What have I lost?
Why am I alone so?
What have I done?
What have I done?
|
||||
The Playing Fields UK
“Dark, melodic tunesmiths” (The Guardian)
“What might happen if Lou Reed and H. P. Lovecraft met in a
pub one dark and gloomy night and decided to form a band.” (Music4M)
"Audio magic like a soothing spell.” (Blowback)
"Tight, edgy, definitely worth seeing," (Rock Beat Stone)
"Ocean-sized and beguiling" (V.P)
"Dark, ethereal soundscapes” (Islington Gazette)
“A rare sense of depth" (NME)
... more
If you like The Playing Fields, you may also like:
Eerie and mystical tunes from musician and visual artist Julie Crawford that fuse art pop with goth sensibilities.
go to album
California’s Fawns of Love write heavenly pop songs surrounded by cloudlike layers of synth and tied up in silvery guitar lines.
go to album
Lush, dreamy dark pop from Chicago that most certainly evokes the city's grey, humid summer haze.
go to album
Efterklang returns with another collection of stately songs that pair billowing melodies with richly textured arrangements.
go to album
Infecious and collaboration-focused, Adrien Leprêtre's new Samba De La Muerte effort contains a global dance party for the ages.
go to album
A Life with Large Opening
by Samba De La Muerte
Inspired by architecture, this album by Samba De La Muerte has sweeping, grand electronic melodies paired with hopeful and poetic lyrics.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Mar 14, 2017
go to album
