1. |
|
|||
2. |
|
|||
3. |
|
|||
4. |
|
|||
5. |
Closet Monsters (Demo)
03:55
|
|
||
|
You could set this house to flame tonight and I'd just sleep sound
I heard you'd been turning tricks beneath the neon high moon
Where a piano wrestled with the alphabet
And the hollow has-beens hadn't happened yet
Could you turn from them and look at what you've found?
I'll burn each idle souvenir and let the memories float up
And twist with the smoke into the trees into the mist of a crescent moon
And follow visions through knotted rivers where
The static soul of stone persuades your fear to undermine itself,
To cauterize the hell of hiding disappearing acts inside themselves
Could you look up from them and ask the river when?
You've been trying to be more honest with yourself
But it honestly seems to be honesty that's been holding you back
So when it comes around again, gonna set this house on fire
This time, my friend, give into it and lie back down
Watch the charred studs peter out and howl into the bitter wind
The hollow glow of electric eyes mud drunk under a faded moon
Let the persistent drumbeat underground ring out
Beneath the broken teeth in the piano's mouth
The sleep you reconcile between the daydream doors
Trade the cold linoleum for frayed folklore
By now its ragged run, a novelty to plunder
From the finite needlework of history spun
And then brought back to life, the kindling ignites
And lays the closet monsters out with no place left to hide them
They've been trying to be more honest with themselves
But it honestly seems to be honesty that's been holding them back
I hear them coming up the road, gonna set this house on fire
This time I'll just give into it and lie
|
||||
6. |
Medicine Line (Demo)
03:27
|
|
||
7. |
Churchill, MB (Demo)
03:36
|
|
||
|
This morning out of Churchill
Stone shakes the hand of sky
The water still is cluttered
With icebergs in July
And I can't take my eyes off this cool, collected crowd
All coming home or going home
The bears climb into costume
The steel of the silo moans
Cast beneath
A national shadow
Cradled in the Hudson Bay
A cold, collected song
Oh Canada
Where are you going to?
And I can't take my eyes off the assembling of the flocks
All going home or coming home
This morning over Churchill
The smoke is billowing
A wildfire roaming
Kneels to kiss the sky
The television's blaring
And the anchorman's moved on
I stare into my coffee
Now turned cold in the light of dawn
And as I lift my eyes to this cool, collected crowd
All coming home, or going home
All coming home, I'm going home
|
||||
8. |
|
|||
Brett Nelson Redcliff, Alberta
Resident Explorer at Lost Ranger Music
If you like Brett Nelson, you may also like:
Irish singer-songwriter Oisin Leech's acoustic folk music is characterized by its muted beauty and intimate, solitary quality.
go to album
Space Bath
by Sami Freeman, feat. James Jackson, Beaunoise, Mia Pixley
A gorgeous journey through a kaleidoscopic array of sonic approaches melted together that feels old and new at the same time.
go to album
Sparkling and knotty indie rock from this Australian group with interlocking guitars and shifting rhythms.
go to album
The haunting new record from Canadian folk artist Avi C. Engel bridges old and new traditions with a minimalist approach.
go to album
The Melbourne singer-songwriter's captivating debut balances dreamy indie folk with driving, emotional rock.
go to album
The Australian singer's debut solo album is filled with creative indie pop tracks.
go to album
Loosely structured around the Pokémon game of the same name, “Fire Red” is hushed and layered indie folk.
go to album
