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All The Ghosts

by Gwyneth Herbert

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1.
So Worn Out 03:37
Fall out of the 2-double-7 Chippie’s open, little bites of heaven And I’m so worn out The night throws out a diamond rug I take your hand – one yellow stripey glove And you’re so worn out Young girl fumbles for a cigarette Looking for a spark, hasn’t found it yet And she is so worn out Star-trek man with his figurines Talks in Klingon, they know just what he means, That he’s all worn out Hey little one, let me take you on the run We’ll stumble to the moon and back To the moon Hey little one, let me pull you through the door You are the droid I’m looking for Looking for Dolphin’s cooking up a storm Bouncer blows to keep his fingers warm And he’s so worn out Yellow tape and neon skies Lidl shouts about its special offer pies But they’re all sold out Hey little one, let me take you on the run We’ll stumble to the moon and back To the moon Hey little one, let me pull you through the door You are the droid I’m looking for Looking for…
2.
Little Annie has a yellow bag Given to her by her sometime Dad who would say “It’ll keep the ghosts away” Silver bangles and a popped balloon Ruby lipstick and a postcard of the moon She’ll be leaving soon Oh, Annie, where’d you sleep last night? Oh, Annie, hold your head up high Oh, Annie, won’t you hold on tight To your yellow bag, your yellow bag, your yellow bag Little Annie sets her beret right Meets The Cosmonauts by candlelight to conceive The music helps her breathe She builds a song and then she climbs inside Her hips rotating like a fairground ride in the sun She’s not the only one Oh, Annie, where’d you sleep last night? Oh, Annie, hold your head up high Oh, Annie, won’t you hold on tight To your yellow bag, your yellow bag, your yellow bag And all the ghosts are saying lie down lie down And all the kids are saying jump up jump up And all the songs are saying kick out kick out But all the ghosts are saying lie down lie down Little Annie has a yellow bag Tatty tickets from the gig at Vanity Loft That’s when the room took off She’s got a past to give the boys a scare She’s got the future in her sights but stares at her feet They never feel the heat Oh, Annie, where’d you sleep last night? Oh, Annie, hold your head up high Oh, Annie, won’t you hold on tight To your yellow bag, your yellow bag, your yellow bag And all the ghosts are saying lie down lie down And all the kids are saying jump up jump up And all the songs are saying kick out kick out And all the boys are saying hop in hop in And all the spooks are saying walk on walk on And all the junkies saying turn off turn off And all the sniffs are saying rack up rack up And all the ghosts are saying lie down lie down Oh, Annie, where’d you sleep last night? Oh, Annie, hold your head up high Oh, Annie, won’t you hold on tight To your yellow bag, your yellow bag, your yellow bag
3.
Lorelei 03:40
She took his hand and she put it in hers Wouldn’t be the last and was not the first She sung her song and she spun him a curse Cry out For the loss of another Her sea-green eyes never miss a trick Those sweet mohitos pack quite a kick Her careless smile cuts him to the quick Cry out For the loss of another Lorelie, Lady Lorelie Watch the dreams go by – Drifters lost in the rain Lorelie, Lady Lorelie Chalk it up on high – One more dupe for the dame The streetlamps flicker, she picks up the tab She’s got him flying with a sniff and a dab All hips and bone in the back of the cab Cry out For the loss of another You’re a beautiful child You’ve got the voice of an angel Boots of ebony tar, oh what’s the matter – has Kafka got your tongue, my beautiful child? You’ve got the voice of a devil Take away your feather and chains See how they run… Lorelie, Lady Lorelie Watch the dreams go by Drifters lost in the rain Lorelie, Lady Lorelie Chalk it up on high One more dupe for the dame She took him well and the taking was fast She shook him up, shook him from my mast Was not the first; Will not be the last Cry out for the loss of another Cry out for the loss of another
4.
Tall and pretty in skinny blue jeans You’re the kind of boy I’d like to be Your kiss is sweeter than fizzy pink wine You look better in my fishnets than me My narrow man My narrow man Tall and graceful with bambi brown eyes Audrey Hepburn’s got nothing on you Your smile is a splinter and I’ll pull you close or The winter might snap you in two My narrow man My narrow man And your sweet smiling shadow is the lighter half of me And I am the marrow to your bone So come and wrap your lovely lamppost legs around me And I’ll carry you home, I’ll carry you home Tall and brave in your Welsh army coat That has General Jones spitting teeth Light as a feather, you’ll fight to the death To defend your poetic belief My narrow man My narrow man And your sweet smiling shadow is the lighter half of me And I am the marrow to your bone So come and wrap your lovely lamppost legs around me And I’ll carry you home, I’ll carry you home Tall and pretty in skinny blue jeans You’re the kind of boy I’d like to own My fine-tailored twiggy, my Bowie as Ziggy Do you know who you are, Mr Jones? My narrow man My narrow man
5.
How you gonna do right by me? How you gonna do wrong? How you gonna make plans that stick Now all of your post-its are gone? How you gonna do right, now? How you gonna do wrong? Why you throwing those words at me? Why you playing that song? Why you filling my head back up When there’s nothing to rest my head on? Why you throwing those words, now? Why you playing that song? I was doing fine, I was doing fine here on my own Back to me and mine, battenburg and wine … Look how I’ve grown And everybody says I’m scrubbing up the best I’ve ever been It’s funny how calamity can turn Jane into a beauty queen. Who’s been filling my bottle up? Who’s been keeping me warm? Who’s been sewing my buttons on Now all of the fabric has torn? Who’s been filling my bottle? Who’s been keeping me warm? I was doing fine, I was doing fine here on my own Back to me and mine, battenburg and wine … Look how I’ve grown And everybody says I’m scrubbing up the best I’ve ever been It’s funny how calamity can turn Jane into a beauty queen. Where you keeping your promises? Where you hiding your knife? Where you driving this time of night? Where you been all my life? Where you keeping your promises? Where you hiding your knife? I was doing fine, I was doing fine here on my own Back to me and mine, battenburg and wine … Look how I’ve grown And everybody says I’m scrubbing up the best I’ve ever been It’s funny how calamity can turn Jane into a beauty queen.
6.
Look at you with your bitter pen And your pocketful of names I’m sorry that your Daddy’s dead But you’re a bastard all the same Put your mouth where your money is Put a bullet in your brain Look at you with your sweaty shirt And your suitcase in the hall I’m sorry that she kept the kids But the grafitti’s on the wall. Put your mouth where your money is Put a bullet in your brain Poor little commissar, where have your comrades gone? Poor little commissar, where have your comrades gone? Poor little commissar, where have your comrades gone? Poor little commissar, where have your comrades gone? You’re a whiskey tramp in oversized boots Disguised as a learned man You’re a sheep in rebel’s clothing, You’re the not to my I am Put your mouth where your money is Put a bullet in your brain Watching the days turning blue Drinking the dreams from your shoe Reading the leaves in your beer Baby, it’s all down hill from here Watching the days turning blue Drinking the dreams from your shoe Reading the leaves in your beer Baby, it’s all down hill from here Poor little commissar, where have your comrades gone? Poor little commissar, where have your comrades gone? Poor little commissar, where have your comrades gone? Poor little commissar, where have your comrades gone?
7.
Nataliya 02:59
I met her in a holy town Dirty afternoon of crumbling grace Fur collar turned upside down Pretty nose spread across her face She said I get to keep my tips Since ’53 we’ve come quite far And schoolgirls dream of a life like this There’s no coal left in Vorkuta Nataliya, come home Nataliya, come home Nataliya, come home Into the cold They spun such pretty tales Seven orange groves and Cyprus sun Now I’ve got seven sons a day Funny how the truth’s undone Just gotta Sleep my plane fare off For another living overseas If I work long and hard enough… There’s no fruit here in Tel Aviv Nataliya, come home Nataliya, come home Nataliya, come home Into the cold And your cold white hands They’re your lily assassins See how they dance in shadow The tiles on the wall They’re the clouds that surrounds you The dust in the wind and the lillies on snow… Nataliya, come home Nataliya, come home Nataliya, come home Into the cold Into the cold
8.
I wanna pack it all in – Pack up and go to sea Wind down like Huckleberry Finn Sleep in a poplar tree Time I gave my mind a rest Wanna feel some of that weightlessness Away from the smog and the noise and the mess – My Mini and me. I wanna give it all up – Give in to the need Hand my soul to Lady Luck Before it goes to seed Rattle along in the outside lane A place where nobody knows my name Away from the smog and the noise and the shame My Mini and me. Take me away Come on and take me away Take me away Come on and take me away I wanna break it all down – Break into the deep Gonna quit this grimy town Leave the rotten heap Ain’t got no chauffeur, no saloon Nor much in the way of elbow room But away from the smog and the noise and the gloom My Mini and me. Take me away Come on and take me away Take me away Come on and take me away To everyone I’ve ever known: go preach my name in reverent tones And every passing day A waterfall of praise And everyone who was unkind: go scold your cold and callous minds Each second that I’m gone Think of how you did me wrong… Take me away Come on and take me away Take me away Come on and take me away
9.
Some days I forget Some days you’re just a train away The telephone’s my friend again Waiting to disapprove Some days something slips I lay out all my Sunday best I lay a glass of scotch to rest Some days there’s always two Hello, hello? It’s a funny time of year Have I told you that I love you more than most? I know, I know That you’ll think me such a fool – I’m just clawing at the stars to hold you close Some days I recall Some days I take the fall The handlebars fall off, but then You’re here again, some days. Hello, hello? It’s a funny time of year Have I told you that I love you more than most? I know, I know That you’ll think me such a fool – I’m just clawing at the stars to hold you close Some days I recall Some days I take the fall The handlebars fall off, but then You’re here again, some days.
10.

about

Gwyneth's latest smorgasbord of musical musings, ‘All The Ghosts', takes her music further down her own idiosyncratic path. It carries ten terrific songs, which speak to you directly, without forethought for genre or category. In their melodic immediacy and observational characterisation, you might hear the Lennon-McCartney of ‘Sgt Pepper', or the Ray Davies of ‘Lola', rather than any jazz stereotype.
The songs are populated by a living, breathing cast of beaten-down dreamers, jaded city-dwellers, and women in a quandary. There is a beautiful prostitute with a split lip, pining to be free to return to mother Russia. There is also a wicked, myth-enshrouded temptress, luring in young men with drink and drugs. And there is a Mini, the same age as the singer, as human and ‘real' in its wheezing everyday tasks as any of the other folk. These, simply, are songs about people, about life, as the singer has precociously learnt to understand them at her tender age.
Recorded in a live studio environment at Peter Gabriel's Real World Studios, near Bath, Gwyneth and her faithful and accomplished quartet spent only two days laying the songs down. "It's a beautiful place, in the middle of nowhere - no distractions, amazing food, and lots of red wine. We wanted to revisit the whole concept of recording live. It was pretty much all done that way, everyone in one room, with basic separation, and no overdubs."
Says Gwyneth, "Like on ‘Wardrobe', you'll hear finger-tapping noises, or somebody drop a drumstick halfway through. There's a couple of weird pitching things with my voice, but I didn't want to sacrifice the vibe of the whole thing, for some idea of perfection. Musically, too, there's a lot more clunks and clatters. It's more percussive and driving."
‘All The Ghosts' is very much an ensemble piece, and sees Herbert's current combo - Al Cherry (gtr), Sam Burgess (bass), Steve Holness (piano and keys - "in his case, Bob really is your uncle!") and Dave Price (percussion) - hitting upon some inventive and often strange new sounds. Price, in particular, has amassed an armoury of oddball rhythm instruments, which include a cajon, or a "stool drum". He also bangs a gong on a couple of tracks. All the strange boings and crashes sometimes recall Tom Waits.
Gwyneth now feels embroiled in the arts of songcraft, from the wry portraiture of mid-'60s beat-poppers, to the arcane traditions of folk and blues. The songs present a lurid assortment of outsider characters, most of them women.
"Some of them are literal women, whom I've really met," she reveals, "and I guess they are all outsiders, but they're not necessarily black and white. With Lorelei, she's a very naughty woman, but I'd like to think you feel slightly enhanted by what she does, rather than completely rejecting her. Nataliya wants to go home, but that's Russia, and there's no hope of doing that, so there aren't many options for her. And Jane is a frantic mother confused by everything - you can't judge her for that".

Gwyneth Herbert's songs will enchant anyone who gets to hear them.

credits

released July 13, 2009

Gwyneth Herbert - vocals, piano on Narrow Man
Al Cherry - guitars
Dave Price - Percussion
Sam Burgess - bass
Steve Holness - piano, organ

Written and produced by Gwyneth Herbert
Recorded by Robin Baynton @ Real World Studios, Wiltshire
Mixed and mastered @ Harder Sound Studio, London by Robert Harder
Graphic art by Keemo (www.keemogallery.com)

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Gwyneth Herbert Saint Leonards, UK

Singer, composer, multi-instrumentalist & musical adventurer Gwyneth Herbert has released 6 albums and toured across the world, sharing stages with the likes of Boy George, Amy Winehouse and John Cooper Clarke.

She has also presented for BBC Radio 3 and 4; co-created three musicals and a feature-length art film; and had her arrangement of a Swahili folk-song performed by 100,000 children at once.
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