A Wayward Mirror

by Errant Boy

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03:23
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04:05

about

This is the debut digital platter from East of Scotland beatniks Errant Boy.

credits

released April 1, 2016

Chris Harvie - Rickenbacker 330 guitar
Keith Kirkwood - drum kit
Fabien Pinardon - Fender Precision Bass/ some drums/sporadic piano
Sean Ormsby - voice/songs/cheap guitars/one-off vintage synth
Stephen Dennis. - occasional Nord Stage 2
Ann Coates and Emmanuelle Le Coz - the odd backing vocal

Recorded in Edinburgh, Scotland at Bainbridge, Permwhale North, Safe Haven Studio B and Errant Mansions.

Thanks to Detroit Law for nascent bass moves, David Chisholm for drum engineering/recording, Rielle Le Coz for tambourine/maracas, Stephen McLaren for recording guitar on track 7 and all at Errant Media.

Produced and Mixed by Sean Ormsby
(apart from Track 7 which was produced, mixed and mastered by Fabien Pinardon for Permwhale Productions)

Mastered by Steve Kitsch at Audiomaster (www.audiomaster.co.uk)

Cover art based on a painting by Chris Dutton

Copyright belongs to Errant Boy and Errant Media (2016)

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

Errant Boy Scotland, UK

Melodic guitar manoeuvres and lyrical unease. You are welcome.

contact / help

Contact Errant Boy

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Track Name: Black Dress, Black Cab
In mid storm, I could warm to your hate.
Deliberate on your effortless style
and crack my desperate smile.

Jacquie S wears a little black dress to Stereolab.
She plays to the crowd's social leers,
overcomes her social fears,
goes home in a cab. A black cab.

Lately the tears must be beaten from me,
the region on drought alert.
Its eyes shut tight, dancing on the weight of mine.

Inarticulation, relaxed syntax evasion.
All you wanted was dough-re-me.
All I had was poetry.

The grass was greener
and the air was cleaner.
The water deeper
and your sleep much sweeter.
Track Name: Hey! Columbus
I was sorry when you came.
More sorry when you stayed
and you aimed
and you talked
and you named.

Hey! Columbus discover me now, I'm ripe for discovery.
There's nothing I want to sell, there's no-one I want to be.
I give myself away, my language incomplete.
Nostalgic for the day that never was and could never be.

In the morning light, woke up this morning. Morningside,
I pack my bags.

The cat on the window loosed a transparent melody.
It's like saying there's no use thinking about what might have been.
My headphones bring the news, these thoughts are refugee.
I give myself away, my language is complete.

In the morning light, woke up this morning. Morningside,
I felt the world was no longer mine
I pack my bags, leave you behind.
I pack my bags.
Track Name: Doubts
Look out my window, back of one.
Throw out my misplaced intentions.
The wind whispers to me, 'You're beaten'.
The night packs a punch like McGuigan's.

And I'm weaving through you and your distant monologue.

Without a thought in my head, a word in my mouth,
we stand together at the back of the house.
I knew you were scared, you knew I had doubts.
We're still together as if that's what counts.

We stop at the sound of the cri de coeur.
Exit the garden and lock the door.
The light leaves the house in caricature.
Between dog and wolf, dusk's imprimatur.

And I'm weaving through you and your distant monologue
on mistrust and solitude, until I find myself punch drunk.
Track Name: Decades
The peal of the church bells hits the ground and nestles out the back of a bungalow where the turf and the stepfather are blowing smoke rings through hard weather.

A mother watches her own smoke clear at sixteen, fixing a wayward mirror on someone else's kitchen wall. She walks outside. Her steps are basted by the sun.

I realise there's somewhere I had to be.
I realise that I don't have the time.

The decades hover, the decades fuss. Like helicopters, the decades buzz us. My little sister is counting beads. 'I can count to twenty-nine. Do you want to hear me?'

From a Sergio Leone tracked diagonal, this bench is plaqued by someone else's memory and images you gave to me.

With your scratchcard and your furious coin, that could cover any one of our eyes. Cover the sun, cover the moon, I swing to a parallel and walk on by.
Track Name: Monochrome
Are you taking me down there?
It's too quiet and it's dark below.
Are you hoping we drown there?
There's always something I don't want to know...

We dream in monochrome when we dream
We dream of all the nights we've known.
Side-by-side. Alone.

We can still see the sun there.
It's reflected in somebody's face.
We won't be the only ones there.
We won't leave until we

Dream in monochrome when we dream
We dream of all the nights we've known.
Side-by-side. Alone.

Don't tell me our love is a burn-out car.
Don't tell me our love is an abattoir.
Don't tell me our love only travels so far.
Don't tell me our love is bi-polar.
Track Name: Burning Chair
I walk up to his house when everyone else is sleeping.
I drag him outside where no-one can hear us speaking.
I take out your knife as the silence around us is deepening.
By the red lantern light, with his blood on the side of the barn I write

'Childhood disappears'. Smoke. Rise. Burning Chair.
Childhood disappears. Smoke. Flies. Burning Chair.

He screams and he screams like you scream in your dreams
As the dog licks the blood from the side of his face.
I know that revenge has become my career
when the anger's becoming replaced by the fear.

We run through the fields
as his ghost chases us to the borderline.
Now we're safe in your bed
but we both know
that we'll never leave him behind,
that he'll never leave us behind.
Track Name: The Night Dilates
The cloud like a dirty fingerprint on my night-time window
meant the moon's playing hide and seek.
The cloud like a dirty fingerprint, a condensation rainbow
meant the moon has reached its peak

Time weaves a taut gauze and your 2AM pausing
will be steam by three.
Time weaves a taut gauze and you've forgotten
all these human machines.

Sleep in the afternoon,
show me your desperate moves
and dull resistance.
You keep hiding in the woods.

The spirit hits the casual hips
with an importance that hard to miss
and the moon is at our feet.
The night dilates and takes our wrists,
the night-time kiss so cautious lipped
and the room is incomplete.

Time weaves a taut gauze and you've forgotten
all these human machines.

Sleep in the afternoon,
show me your desperate moves
and dull resistance.
You keep hiding in the woods.

The half-light's calling me,
the half-life's underneath.
To stop and watch you sleep's
an invitation to the deep.
Track Name: Imaginary Song
You wax and you wane, then you do it again.
But if you take catch that train, there'll be hell to pay.

Pavement promises.
Haloed self-defence.

On an imaginary stool in an imaginary bar,
with an imaginary pint and an imaginary quid
for an imaginary jukebox's imaginary song
I never wanted to play.
Until I did.

Everyday cowardice and me.
I hit reverse.

Under the bleeding light I was wrong.
Under the bleeding light of antiquated highs.
Track Name: King Myopia
I'm going out of your mind.
I stumble into fate, so arrogantly blind.

You're going to have to learn how to get by.
You're going to have to learn to say goodbye.

King Myopia is leading the blind
and, if he could trust you,
you might get paid in kind.

And when the rain begins
you try and step between the drops
but it cloaks your skin
and threatens never to stop...
Track Name: Endgame
And you can't get up. The rain won't let up.
You can't be fucked. You're still laughing.
God knows it's us and god knows we're stuck.
Prognosis: fucked. We're still laughing.

Spend all night on the phone,
spend all night so she won't feel alone.
The endgame is coming.
He won't tell her because she knows.

It's no fun to feel like you're done.
The only one who's not laughing.