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by Kiran Leonard

supported by
Kai Dare
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Kai Dare Incredible. Don't Make Friends With Good People is one of the best songs I've ever heard Favorite track: Don't Make Friends With Good People.
Daniel Parr
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Daniel Parr this album has been such an influence to my own music, in parts a cacophony, enraged, murky, serene... it takes whatever turn it pleases, whilst this may make it obtuse, it's a thrilling journey. Favorite track: Don't Make Friends With Good People.
Neil Vara
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Neil Vara An astounding record! There's so much going on and you never know what will happen next. Perhaps not quite as accessible as Bowler Hat Soup, but it's equally as exciting and mind blowing. Looking forward to seeing him live in Birmingham this week. Favorite track: Don't Make Friends With Good People.
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there is not a distance no room well-hidden to counter the offence the cars at night; the breath of the lens and in the home there sits the water that i provide for my wife and daughter so who am i to run through mute terrain as they drag me out, and throw soil on my name? and we are rustic and detained, blackening the mirrors; estranged from youth, the wind is amplified jutting out at our heroes to sleep, at length with peace, looking out for the secret police; the moon was a spy for them at night to see you with
Pink Fruit 16:15
i am not told you'll arrive in your best the wig and fine dress throws me and the pace in my chest increases tenfold when the gaze you have holds on me stand to obey and the moment is carried away hairline of heir apparent disposed of pretence a shout from the king that pulls you to me (unnecessary dancing) cause a smile i can't hide is enough to take you outside nearly touching, arms outstretched we stood in a drawing room thoughts are scarce there's no movement upstairs and the court noises are drowning you lie down and i see your skin the fear in your eyes at the hollow abdomen i stood back nervously when sat beneath your chest is a squid you say you can explain a tentacle reaches out and grabs my wrist that night, is distinct is a horror how does it carry on out of water not discussed, carry on she dresses crying ** heaven elect my misery judging eye of history the remits are confused levelled at the limits of this ark wilderness we stand to lose ** [woman of abdomen squid]: garrote me sober let truth divide arrested winter; my hands are tied the creek is empty my love is true infected angel her eyes are blue she isn't there when she begs for you all crested nimble false interest incentive fidgets it's not her best a median picture, the lie you see nestling warm underneath a tree you'd realise if you turned to me sleepy temper at least it's pure unlike the folks in the cracked mirror i won't pull out of the sick linen drowning my mind through the thick and thin and i won't tell you what i've taken in garrote my body or cut the crest cut off my head and put me in a nest the tongue is numb from her vicious love she keeps it dry in a box of snuff she doesn't know what she's thinking of i adolesce default to dark art concerning the heart it's false acrid unfazed whatever intoned seriousness it was a pink fruit i ought to see you ** the sun bared down ulterior, unnamed shapeless are angels
ethel is a hungry orb paste in its heart alone ethel is a hungry orb locked in the docks below and out in the night of the shotgun holes weave deep into jaw strap elastic a clatter of shins hit the dock a heaven in the sharks' abode while ethel the hungry orb rots in the docks below and out in the night of the shotgun holes weave deep into jaw strap elastic erasers to stone, erasers to stone self-advertised disfigurement erasers to stone, erasers to stone for hades of the palisade erasers to stone, erasers to stone forgotten mirrors aggravate erasers to stone, erasers to stone co-operative treason and it all whales out and knocks bone speaking only to the tops of the trees out in the night ethel is hungr out in the night
lover can you find peace, oh? oh what you do that you can't explain don't make the sin no violins don't touch a thing bring the broken wing downwards softly unchain the wheels and arrange the room as it feels ask yourself do you feel as i feel the birds intrinsic and aloft eclipsed the words carved the way down carved the way down carved the way down desperate leads for a desperate men my life under and the reins of discontent my life on the devil's left arm i'll take to the west, take to the plains with the condors and the rarity of the rains truth above, i'm not the same don't stop tredding on haricots
in this room where ageless wept i never felt so worthless and direct on this street two masts attempt and i never felt so worthless and direct we got lost in the hills with fog lights on dressed in discomfort, cursing, harrowed and suspect but there was room for harking on words out an open window, worthless and direct light breaks out on inertia! i’m in the catskills and an attack in the foothills brings me to a standstill 'but that's the way the creature thinks!...' is this injury within my head? sick of denial and amending plenary i hid my doubts in you, and grinned instead but i was afraid that you weren't of this century! i am bob brantley derision attacks me a private soliloquy no thoughts to distill (i can't keep my head still) misinterprets the symbol if you could see that i'm not boring now ** there was a violence in how you spoke no underlying empathy to detect you do not possess her; it's not a joke to say that it's complimenting, worthless and direct ** you don't know my surname i can't remember what was said or who to blame i don't suppose that we know anything your father brought flowers your mother tended to as we whiled away the hours and i cannot imagine being so contrived oh our liberty is better than yours, and you cannot join us, ogre! but sympathy's odour compells us, and strange as it is, i would do anything i know that it seems false but i would do anything i know that it seems false but i want my answers i'm in the catskills! i can't keep my head still! can't identify the signal 'that's the way the creature thinks...' ** i fell short of what i was told deemed to be right it's inevitable; light is a furnace night distorts everything, and good riddance, no matter, it's inevitable; light is a furnace that engulfs all dark ** they've got the beats and they're vicious nobody can stop them they're of another planet this! ideal!
the nihilists' ballad is the crux of the wraith just as songs on guitar are an admission of faith and the blood on the strings is no substitute when the neon strip is a godless commute wordless is worthless wordless is worthless wordless is worthless wordless is worthless she has a photogenic hip-flick brigade she's on invisible reels, the bilderberg trade and her pals are on carpets cause none of them prayed wordless is worthless wordless is worthless wordless is worthless wordless is worthless give to the rest, humbly uncertain i'm in the catskills, total duality fall of ophelia, absolute anarchy no stimulation, somebody ripples next to the station, drowning in riddles wordless is worthless wordless is worthless wordless is worthless wordless is worthless drape the battle axe in proof the matinee up on the roof ** he splits his head again a brick juts from the wall they stamp on his face no trouble at all and it's like 'highness let it loose' sends the heart lions to the noose he lives in an empty house where the paper mats have ripped holding host to our artists the skinned and the thin-lipped and it's like 'highness let it loose' sends the heart lions to the noose
we call this our home an island of stone and surrounding blue seas; we try to rest near the place where we met in the colony i lost both my legs to the same illness that set your arms free but we have our roles and our halves form a whole when you carry me and sometimes i fear the bond we hold dear is only necessity, and if i could walk, would you still want to talk in a tavern in crete? and if the warmth of her skin makes the air feel thin is it fate or desperation? are days with her really dreamlike or just to ease agitation? but i call this our home and when we're alone i don't want to go anywhere and we go and watch waves crash into the rocks and you take me there
Fireplace 10:16
lagavulin the old photographs that i kept lagavulin the dents in the bed where you slept lagavulin how how can i know what the lights reveal and sift through the debris to find what was real little darling the damp of the grass where we kissed little darling the ribbon that curled round your wrist little darling how how did it fumble and burst on the rocks left to decay and thrown to the flocks and how can i know if the sycamore talks i should have known it was not within you to have cared too outgrown to accept it was not what we shared i clasped the roots and repeated the things that it said how could i know that the fear remained and fight to decode the terror you'd gained your weakness was how you enjoyed the unknown now you sleep through the days and the nights alone i miss the house and the thin layer of frost on the panes and spite my youth and the sore emptiness of my veins in spite of all i cannot quite remember your name how did i cope when i found you weren't there and toil with the truth that you never did care and won't come to lie at my fireplace evelyn closed her eyes saw the light turned to face how could i know if the cracks revealed the dark tenderness of the sting and yield rinsed from the days of the old baptist hall the long summer haze and the bat and ball and everything goes down the hole in the sink when you're numb and there's not been enough to drink died in the night just to sleep through the days but won't you come back to my fireplace and how will i come to the end of the bridge that i found myself at when i fell off the ridge sleep through the days cause i've got time to kill and hope that i wake with my body laid still just to escape all the words in my head 'evelyn' on my lips as i climb out of bed and when i'm awake i just scream for release and i toil in my sleep but the sleep brings me peace so i won't shed tears if i just cease to be and i don't mind much if you don't long for me i'll learn to forgive all the memories you bring when you burnt all my letters with your wedding ring and yet i still care and i'd hold you closely thankful and patient through sweet misery we all got in suits and we wished you the best but still i wait for you to be put to rest


mostly recorded 2013-15 --- this is the noisy one with lots of guitars


released March 25, 2016

kiran leonard: acoustic guitar, banjo, bass guitars, bongo, cittern, cowbell, drums, electric guitars, field recordings, finger cymbals, goat bells, magnetic tape machine, mandolin, melodica, mud bucket, oscillator, pans [frying, sauce-], penny whistle, radio [analog, wide-band SDR], reed organ, ride, sandpaper, synthesiser, tambourine, television, thunder tube, toy megaphone, violin, voice

cassia string quartet:
amy welch, tory clarke: violin (1, 4, 5, 8)
laurie dempsey: viola (1, 4, 5, 8)
joshua lynch: cello (1, 4, 5, 8)

sam barber: trombone (1, 2, 8)
freya smith: oboe (2, 5)
cameron woodhead: clarinet, alto sax (2)
simon prince: alto sax (8)
jamie philokyprou: violin (2)
tom broadbent: viola (2)
helene bradley, mary epworth, will twynham: voice (1, 2)
mackenzie keefe: voice (2, 6)
john o'brien: voice (2)
hattie coombe: voice (3, 8)
andy proudfoot: voice 3, 8)


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Kiran Leonard England, UK

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