1. |
Lunatic High
02:40
|
|||
|
I took my clock apart,
I like to see how things work,
I was very careful,
I labelled every part,
Laid them out all straight,
Checked them in the light,
I counted them all up,
Made myself a list,
Sketched a few choice parts,
The ones that looked most pleasing,
I could never draw the screws right,
The thread always catches me out.
I check the radio,
For a voice sent from the Heavens,
I check every frequency,
Every hour; on the hour,
Homemade AM deal,
9v Battery,
I didn’t use a diagram,
Built from memory,
|
||||
2. |
||||
|
It’s only twelve steps,
From here to the door,
Then to the tool shed,
Is another thirty-two more,
There’s a box of old tools,
That I don’t use anymore,
I find a rusty pair of pliers,
This time it’s “once and for all”,
I need my anaesthetic,
My magical cure-all,
My hidden, secret elixir,
Amongst the motor oil,
Copper taste in my mouth,
I look for the mirror,
I’m a goofy, gappy fucker,
Homemade MacGyver Hero,
I need my anaesthetic,
My magical cure-all,
My hidden, secret elixir,
To face the world at all,
A bottle in the hand is always worth two in the bush,
And I don’t have a problem- a disposition at a push,
And I don’t need a dentist when I’ve got what I got,
Cause I’m the guy who always has the right tool for the job,
I don’t feel I need to give myself up to a higher power,
The only time I call for God is when he’s making shit turn sour,
And I don’t need my daughter’s love to feel like a fucking human,
|
||||
3. |
Hick Source
03:39
|
|||
|
It’s usually around seven,
I start itching from inside,
Clammy hands get the jitters,
And that’s when I decide,
I head on down to the bar,
Jack ‘n’ coke- no ice,
I only pause briefly,
Before I’m gone for the night,
I hit it.
I always wake with some bruise,
No recollection of the night,
Peel myself off the couch,
My room spins into sight.
I dread going into town,
Finding out what I’ve done,
I can’t remember the last time,
I spent morning doing anything but apologizing.
|
||||
4. |
I am going nowhere
04:24
|
|||
|
Can you take me in town?
I want to post a letter,
I have to go sign on,
And chat about the weather,
I know it’s not ideal,
But there’s not much I can do,
A real catch-22,
I’m scared the big city,
Of being there on my own,
Of letting it swallow me up,
And missing my home.
It’s an uphill struggle,
A marathon not a sprint.
|
||||
5. |
Don't be a hero
03:50
|
|||
|
Joshua, I wish I held you more,
I never had the guts to tell you how I feel,
‘Cause I’m so proud of the man you’ve become,
And so ashamed of the man I’ve always been,
I was never good with words
Quiet now, don’t want to wake the dog,
The sun is almost up and you’ll notice that I’m gone,
Marianne, I’ve always let you down,
I never kept control,
I hate myself for what I did to you,
|
||||
6. |
King of all I see
02:15
|
|||
|
I am the King!
The King of all I see,
Everything I know,
It all belongs to me,
I rule the land,
Rule the skies and the sea,
Everything God made,
It all belongs to me,
I own the Sun,
The Moon and all the stars,
Every single mountain,
And every speck of dust,
I own the air,
Only I can breathe,
Every other creature,
Is stealing from me,
Is stealing my life experiences.
|
||||
7. |
Respectable Citizen
05:48
|
|||
|
I always double my measures,
It’s the measure of a man,
How well you hold your drink,
With that tremor in your hand,
I really couldn’t care any less,
I’ve heard it all; I don’t need your damn help,
I am a respectable citizen,
Paid my taxes; paid my dues,
There’s nothing wrong with me,
I’m just blowing off some steam,
|
||||
8. |
||||
|
She said that I am not,
That I was never spontaneous...
|
||||
9. |
Hospital Food
03:46
|
|||
|
I know I’ve really fucked up this time,
The cat’s out of the bag,
And I’m pissing through a straw,
They’re saying a whole lot of shit,
That I don’t understand,
And they want me to see a shrink,
I told them there’s nothing wrong,
They told me to wait and see,
They just don’t understand,
See they all kept their jobs,
And their golf club memberships,
Their Beamers, Audis and Saabs,
And I get shit.
The sterile walls are closing in,
I feel disease soak through my skin,
And I’m too weak to up-and-leave,
I feel the bastards watching me,
I can’t stand this hospital food,
It really tastes like shit,
And they never give you enough,
And this guy on my ward,
Has emphysema,
From grafting in the mines,
They’ll never know what that’s like,
|
||||
10. |
Happy as a pig in muck
02:09
|
|||
11. |
||||
|
Coco wakes up in a humid haze,
In the wee small hours of the afternoon,
Daytime TV pulls him into a daze,
And he surrender’s his attention to the auction room,
Propped up on coffee and microwave meals,
Nicotine stains on the Memory Reel,
He follows his programs with religious zeal,
But all he’s waiting for,
A Fanfare for the Retired Clown!
Coco is frozen in permanent malaise,
He hasn’t seen another person for days,
He just gets by with his means and his ways,
And bothers no one else.
|
||||
12. |
Sink
01:00
|
|||
|
I see lightning in your eyes,
I know I’ve gone too far this time,
At least I can still recognise,
The blurry lines that make your face,
It always starts with a glass of wine,
Then pulling punches at closing time,
Sirens pierce the inky night,
And cut through my daze,
|
||||
13. |
||||
|
I always miss the point,
The subtext in your speech,
Can’t read between the lines,
It’s always lost on me.
And I miss the days where we could talk for hours,
I bought flowers,
I was so convinced by your supernatural powers,
It’s was ours,
To keep secret,
I guess you didn’t care,
When you found out how I am,
I didn’t want to burden you,
I didn’t want to be your stigma,
There are people living inside the Earth,
I will find them,
I will join them,
And they live self-sufficiently,
I want to be,
Part of their family,
There is nothing here,
But bric-a-brac,
And broken knick-knacks,
I want to leave it all behind,
Start a new life
|
||||
Chris Ridire Cardiff, UK
Chris Ridire is a lo-fi singer/songwriter from Wexford, Ireland, currently based in Cardiff, UK.
If you like Chris Ridire, you may also like:
The London indie group's debut "mini-album" is filled with self-described oddball pop tracks.
go to album
Live In... New York City
by Tex Crick
Australian artist Tex Crick takes a low-key, 70s singer-songwriter approach to his latest collection of songs.
go to album
Reflections Vol. 1 (Bumble Bee Crown King)
by WOODS
This surprise album from the New York alternative band is an archival collection of previously unreleased recordings.
go to album
Market, from Melbourne, fuse soul and chillwave on a wonderfully woozy song with rubbery guitars & breathy harmonies.
go to album
Making a Door Less Open
by Car Seat Headrest
Will Toledo steers Car Seat Headrest in an experimental new direction, all rudimental hip-hop beats, funky synths, and plaintive violins.
go to album
Talking Secret - Single
by MILLY
Dreamy, hallucinogenic shoegaze and slowcore on this single from L.A.’s Milly, with syrupy guitars and woozy vocals.
go to album
These four songs from Melbourne-based Market are low-lit and soothing, soft vocals swaddled in tender guitar lines.
go to album
