perfumed with fresh turpentine, imported oolong tea.
Swirl me up in yellow ochres, pigments ruddy rose.
You see what you look for and you go where no one goes.
Sailor in your schooner, come teach me how to sail.
The sky is full of ribbons and the water’s milky pale.
I’ve never seen an albatross,
or felt the tempest’s tongue.
Sail until the sailboat splinters, sail it while you’re young.
I’m never done.
I’m never done.
Gardener, come walk with me and
teach me how to grow fragrant herbs,
peonies and poppies all aglow.
Honour true persistence -- the sheer will to survive.
Every bud and blossom, seed and sapling demands life.
I’m never done.
I’m never done.
Judge, meet me in the courtroom
and teach me to decide the
honest course of action with prejudice aside.
Cloud and feather, salt and sugar,
lion’s tooth and nail weigh
heavy down on either side of your golden scales.
I’m never done.
I’m never done.
I’m never done.
I’m never done.
Not sure when I’m coming back. Get on without me.
Darling, oh darling, I’ve left for the coast.
I’m off with the tide, soft as a ghost.
Couples with wine-stained teeth and wide smiles
spill out from restaurants once in a while.
Talk is so light and their clothes are in style.
That was you not so long ago,
that was you not so long ago.
The courtyards are wreathed with ivy so high.
Each ripple of laughter is met with a sigh,
the secret recluses make their goodbyes.
That was you not so long ago,
that was you not so long ago.
[ Ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen.
The local time is 11:30am. The temperature
is 52 degrees and the weather is fine.]
One without a tether, nimble as a horse,
open as camellia, prickly as gorse.
I run my own course.
Every one a fickle wasp, drowned in sugar water.
A son, a son, a son, a son.
Make way for a daughter,
someone’s daughter.
[ Will you take all your personal belongings with you
and ensure that you have all your documents with you?]
Maybe we’ll be burned alive or swallowed by a flood.
Maybe every tree and plant won’t give a flower bud.
Oh, maybe I should go to bed.
Maybe all the scholars have bigger, bright ideas.
Geometries, new platitudes and visions of Pangea.
A cellist down the hall plays Ave Maria.
Oh, maybe I should go to bed.
Maybe there is justice and it blows a bugle horn.
Maybe there’s a universe inside a fresh acorn.
Maybe doves of peace weren’t ravaged in the corn.
Oh, maybe I should go to bed.
Maybe if the light hits right, rain could look like pearls.
Maybe all our prayers fly from coloured flags unfurled.
Maybe all the love we have could fill the whole damn world.
Oh, maybe I should go to bed.
Oh, maybe I’ll just go to bed.
and feigned things were easy
when in fact they were hard.
Been burned before, but I hide where I’m charred.
I’m a red fox in the snow and I’ll run.
It’s rained for five days and the starlings alight
on the buddleia when it’s coming on night.
You play piano and I sit down to write.
We’re ponies in a field of barbed wire.
You,
you are alive.
I’ve weighed up the options, considered the roads
that might bring me to where I’m longing to go.
Keep treating this life like I’m cracking morse code.
I’m a field mouse in the grass, so hushed.
You,
you are alive.
You,
you are alive.
we want to fuck in peace and we want to fall in love.
We want to know there’s meaning beyond the sky above
more than we confess, oohhh.
We want to be katrillionaires, to skate on Saturn’s rings.
We want to have a wife and kids and buy expensive things.
We want to find a leader, an arm on which to cling
more than we admit, oohhh.
Oh my god. I’m out of orbit, out of play.
Oh my god, you can fill me in some day.
I’ll be singing to the milky moon,
untethered like a bright balloon.
We want to keep our polar bears and drive our classic cars,
we want to go to Hollywood and spy on all the stars.
We want to write about it in a book of our memoirs
more than we concede, oohhh.
We want to own a piece of land and form unspoken laws,
we want to be protagonists without our tragic flaws.
We want a box filled with every piece of the jigsaw
more than we confess, oohhh.
Oh my god. I’m out of orbit, out of play.
Oh my god, you can fill me in some day.
I’ll be singing to the milky moon,
untethered like a bright balloon.
Have you ever had sex? Are you climbing out of debt? Oooo.
Do you want to be a man? Do you like soufflé? Oooo.
When did you realise that you’re gay? Oooo.
I’m off to where the orchards sing,
where the pears are gold and the phones don’t ring.
Way down to the honeysuckle hush.
Inside/outside.
Who ya gonna vote for this time round? Oooo.
Have you ever been the kind to sleep around? Oooo.
Who do you trust? What do you wear?
Where do you go at night?
Who do you love? Why do you care?
Oh my god.
What makes you laugh? What makes you cry?
Why do you shave your head?
Who do you love? Why do you care?
Who do you love? Why do you care?
I’m off to where the orchards sing,
where the pears are gold and the phones don’t ring.
Way down to the honeysuckle hush.
Inside/outside.
I’m off to where the word is writ,
where the caves are deep and the woods are thick.
Way down where the tide is low.
Inside/outside.
and time is a medicine so sickly and sour,
when I am a dog with my hackles raised high,
when I look to the future with sun in my eyes,
I cannot lift
the weight alone.
I’ve spent my life
collecting stones,
collecting stones.
Rush of a punishing gale,
hold fast, oh my love.
None can tear you from me.
We have something to keep both our eyes on.
When I haven’t rehearsed every line in the play
and curl up with sorrow at the end of the day,
when I stand like an ox and stare down the man,
and resent any drift from the course that we planned,
I cannot lift
the weight alone.
I’ve spent my life
collecting stones,
collecting stones.
Rush of a punishing gale,
hold fast, oh my love.
None can tear you from me.
We have something to keep both our eyes on.
(WHITMAN’S ‘COME, SAID MY SOUL’)
“Come, said my Soul
Such verses for my Body let us write, (for we are one,)
That should I after death invisibly return,
Or, long, long hence, in other spheres,
There to some group of mates the chants resuming,
(Tallying Earth’s soil, trees, winds, tumultuous waves,)
Ever with pleas’d smiles I may keep on,
Ever and ever yet the verses owning — as, first, I here and now,
Signing for Soul and Body, set to them my name [...]”
Rush of a punishing gale,
hold fast, oh my love.
None can tear you from me.
We have something to keep both our eyes on.
smell of musk. I’ve haunted cheap cafés
and smudged my thumb into the dusk,
but I can’t shake the quiet blues.
I’ve worn the mask of comedy and shook
the silver bells. I’ve been among the ones
I love and ended with farewells,
but I can’t quit the quiet blues.
Maybe I’ll come around. Just wait,
I’ll come around some day.
I’ve swayed like aimless wheat
under the punish of the sun. I planted
feet of clay onto the earth and tried to run,
but I can’t cease the quiet blues.
I’ve smiled like a child at prismatic
shards of light. I’ve woken in a sweat
wrapped in sheets and cold moonlight,
but I can’t shake the quiet blues.
Maybe I’ll come around. Just wait,
I’ll come around some day.
Yes, I have noticed you stare.
Cut my hair, wrote a novel in Times Square.
Oh man, this is the life.
Gonna get my boots shined,
hair slick, words like dewdrops.
Gonna get my cup filled,
sweet kicks. Just like that.
Gonna get my salt-surf,
beatnik bread and butter.
Gonna get my cup filled,
sweet kicks. Just like that.
Settle for it -- not today.
Put up with it -- not today.
I’m a van dyck queer
sipping ice-cold ginger beer.
Yes, I have noticed you stare.
What a cardboard box,
what a pile of bolts and locks
is the world you live in there.
Gonna get my cup filled,
sweet kicks. Just like that.
Settle for it -- not today.
Put up with it -- not today.
then you loaded your brush with fresh oil paint.
Called up your folks to tell them how you’ve been.
It’s a hard, old night trying to keep it all in.
You read the editorial, you take a night class.
You go to the wedding and raise up your glass.
In five years time, this’ll all be dust.
You take what you can and give what you must.
Oooooo.
Always been the the kind to keep things nice,
but the current still moves beneath new ice.
They’re skating on the river and selling mulled wine,
so you try to go out and have a good time.
You’re far enough out that the stars are on show.
You breathe real deep and smell the pine snow.
You’re exactly where you need to be.
You’re exactly where you need to be.
Oooooo.
Oh, Little Bear, with the hollow bones,
sleeping in the womb of the great unknown.
Oh, Little Bear, in the cosmic dark,
beast of benevolence, make your mark.
UPDATES FROM JEALOUS OF THE BIRDS!
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Jealous of the Birds – the musical moniker of Northern Ireland-based singer-songwriter Naomi Hamilton –
has earned worldwide
critical applause for her resonant lyricism and surprisingly volatile musical approach. Hailed by NPR
for her “remarkable gift for
converting spare and common ingredients into a sound that’s utterly her own.” Peninsula, Jealous of the
Birds’ new album, now sees
this artist expanding her welcoming, deeply thoughtful songcraft. A poet and painter, songwriter and
musician, Hamilton has crafted
an evocative work of creative contrasts, combining spellbinding sonic turbulence and dramatic lyrical
depth. Songs like “Something
Holy” and the anthemic, optimistic “Pendulum” traverse the space between naïveté and experience, their
themes enhanced by
enveloping atmospherics and dynamic arrangements.
“I feel like there are extremities to being a completely isolated individual and to being completely
dependent,” Hamilton says,
“whether that’s on other people, on a system, on labels, on whatever you want to be dependent on.
Peninsula encapsulates the idea
that you can have some sort of autonomy but also be connected to others; you can be connected to
something bigger than yourself
while still having some sense of independence.”
Born in Portadown in County Armagh, Northern Ireland, but now based in Belfast, Hamilton started writing
poetry and playing guitar
at 12, influenced by beat poets like Allen Ginsberg, and such musical artists as Fleet Foxes, Pixies,
Nirvana, and Elliott Smith. She
began making music of her own in her second year studying English Literature and Creative Writing at
Queen’s University Belfast.
Hamilton first lifted the curtain on Jealous of the Birds with 2015’s Capricorn EP, followed the next
year by her acclaimed full-length
independent debut, Parma Violets. The album “shatters any preconceived notions,” raved The Irish Times.
“Parma Violets progresses
from whimsical folk-pop to atmospheric indie post-punk of real substance…Hamilton rises to the occasion
time and time again.”
2017 saw Hamilton enlisting local friends to join her in presenting a live version of Jealous of the
Birds, with tours supporting Elbow
and the Divine Comedy, multi-night North American residencies, and landmark performances at such events
as BBC Radio 1’s Big
Weekend and South by Southwest (SXSW).
“Touring and playing live changes how you approach your songs,” Hamilton says, “and also how you
approach writing the songs that
you’re going to play. Because I had only really started songwriting before Parma Violets, they are
simple songs. I think that’s one of its
strengths but also it pushed me to strive to write songs that are a bit more complex.”
Jealous of the Birds followed Parma Violets with a pair of equally well-received eps – 2018’s The Moths
of What I Want Will Eat Me in
My Sleep and 2019’s Wisdom Teeth, both evincing the considerably more expansive sound that had emerged
on stage.
“The EPs were almost like stepping stones to this record,” says Hamilton. “I wanted a much bigger,
fuller sound. I was cautious about
that in the writing process - even the demos had string sections I’d written, there were a lot more bass
dynamics in the songs.
Hopefully that comes across. I just wanted to make a conscious effort to show a maturation of the kind
of music I’m interested in, both
in listening to and in playing.”
In August of 2019, Hamilton continued her creative evolution by teaming with producer Marta Salogni
(Björk, Anna Meredith, Georgia
Ruth) on two standalone singles, “The Grass Begins to Eat Itself” and “Ode of Fire,” and with producer
David
Wrench (The xx, David
Byrne, Marika Hackman) on “Young Neanderthal” and “Always
Going,” both of which appear on Peninsula. These songs mark Jealous
of the Birds’ continuing progression from bedroom recordings to more expansive and inventive use of the
studio.
“I felt like it would be a good and interesting thing to work with other producers and meet other people
in the industry,” Hamilton says.
“Marta was really interesting to me, not only because she’s worked with people like Björk, but also
obviously because she’s a woman.
Any time I see a female sound engineer or a producer, it’s kind of like manna from heaven, I just don’t
see enough of that.
“She’s so down to earth, so open to just approaching the songs in the same way she’d approach anything
else. She just wants to
make really good records. And because she’s a mixing engineer as well, she has a kind of cohesiveness in
producing and engineering
the record but also mixing it, because she’s had that intimacy with the songs.”
“David Wrench was a joy to work with. The fact that, along with being a producer and mixing engineer,
he’s also a musician, meant
that there was an affinity between us throughout the whole creative process. Not only does he have an
intimate understanding of the
concerns of the artist, but also the language and skill to facilitate their experience in the studio. I
felt very seen and united in a passion
to make something great.”
Hamilton spent late 2019 writing songs and recording demos for what would become Peninsula, including a
successful writing
retreat in Lisbon that yielded the songs “Always Going,” “Something Holy,” and “Kodachrome.” in February
2020, Jealous of the Birds
and Salogni reunited at Strongroom Studios, Shoreditch, London to build upon the already detailed demos.
The duality of Jealous of
the Birds’ songcraft was accentuated by two separate sets of backing musicians, with Hamilton’s touring
band featured on more
straight-ahead songs like “Something Holy” and session players used on tracks requiring piano parts and
string arrangements.
Peninsula – which takes its title from a key lyric in “Marrow,” found on Wisdom Teeth: “You call me
peninsula/An island no more” – is
fueled by Hamilton’s hope for human harmony, its songs pondering how one maintains true individuality
while successfully navigating
the collective experience. Indeed, the hustle and bustle of life can be felt in the chaotic swirl that
begins “Hadron Collider” or
explodes the climax of ‘Kodachrome.’
“I really love playing around with dynamics, where the verses are really condensed and chill, and then
you get into these big explosive
choruses. The kind of things where it starts quite classical and soft and then you build into this giant
avalanche of sound – the final
part of ‘Always Going’ is one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. I don’t even know how it
happened, it just did. The song starts with
just an acoustic guitar and then it just explodes. The dynamic shifts and you just go somewhere
else.”
Similar swings of mood and meaning exist within Hamilton’s finely etched lyrics, with songs like “To the
Rind” and “Pendulum” veering
between the contemplative introspection and pointed directness. “Shiloh Chandra,” a rousing piano-driven
tale of a gypsy traveler,
sees her engaging alternate perspectives through narrative, searching for shared commonality by placing
herself in another’s shoes.
“Sometimes, especially with singer-songwriters in the classic sense, a lot of it is very egocentric,”
Hamilton says. “First person, you’re
just yourself, moaning about your feelings. Almost manipulating the listener to feel the way you do. I
find it interesting to get rid of the
ego and just assume another character – what was their life like? What would they do? What’s their
story? I think that also taps into
this idea of individual versus collective. Empathizing with somebody else or trying to tell a story from
somebody else’s viewpoint.”
The Strongroom Sessions continued into mid-March 2020, by which time they were haunted by the rising
threat of pandemic.
Indeed, the final days were both harried and hurried, with Hamilton and her team racing against the
clock to complete the recording.
“We had just a couple of tracks to go when it started getting kind of hairy,” Hamilton says. “Everything
was done apart from a few
vocals. We just about managed to finish it before heading home. The UK hadn’t gone into lockdown yet but
there were rumors that
London was going to go that way soon. My flight got canceled; I had to reschedule twice because
everything was so volatile and
weird. Three or four days after I got home, then the UK went into lockdown, so I kind of got out just in
time.”
“I’m noticing more and more that there’s a theme in my songs of the future,” Hamilton says. “Of it being
this kind of oasis somewhere
over there, somewhere you’re trying to get to, like this place where your current struggles don’t exist.
That’s probably a very millennial
thing – people my age crave security more than some might think. Like, what is happening? What is my
place in the world?”
“The more this job has afforded me to travel, it’s kind of affected my worldview. I think that’s natural
– the older you get, and the more
opportunity you have to travel, you see and experience more things. You realize you’re not the only
person out there. Everybody has
stresses and concerns. I would hope that the songs would reflect on the idea that we’re all just human
and we all need compassion
and tolerance the same as everybody else.”