Get all 12 Fugitive Orchestra releases available on Bandcamp and save 25%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of At The Races, The Price of Doubt, Live at Pete's Candy Store, Tomahawk Caress, Rules of the Riddle, Heterochromia, (Re)Percussions vol. II, (Re)Percussions, and 4 more.
1. |
Conversations (Intro)
00:10
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2. |
Youthful Masochists
04:12
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Are you saying that you really do believe,
That I’ve a growing tendency to deceive?
And that I’m not the only one,
With something up my sleeve?
Are you saying that you really can’t allow,
For people to take offence, when you parade around this cash-cow?
And with your eyes facing heaven-ward,
You make a vow
(But it’s not one that you intend to keep)
Your ruthlessness is wide-awake,
But your conscience is fast asleep.
And can someone please explain, what all this is?
Why the masochists want to be kissed,
Right on the lips of their youthfulness?
And why they’re using words that I do detest.
Could that someone please refrain, from using these
Clichéd words and not saying please.
You learned them from the wolves –
That brought you up,
And brought you here.
Is there something to which you’re trying to allude?
But the way you disagreed, I must admit, I thought you rude.
You say it’s like so many of your words,
Often misconstrued.
But you’ll just carry on, while I disapprove.
With your arms folded and your tongue firmly in your cheek
You say you’re only trying to reach your potential,
But I see: it’s so churlish and inconsequential.
And can someone please explain, what all this is?
Why the masochists want to be kissed,
Right on the lips of their youthfulness?
And why they’re using words that I do detest.
Could that someone please refrain, from using these
Clichéd words and not saying please.
You learned them from the wolves –
That brought you up,
And brought you here,
To me.
That brought you here to me,
That brought you here to me,
That brought you here to me.
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3. |
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4. |
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He can see the truth through the cracks in his fingers –
Of the hands that are covering his eyes –
When he removes them from his face,
He recoils in shock (or perhaps it’s mock-surprise).
From the tension and the drama,
That spills out from his soul,
And the monotony of madness,
That means he’s lost control.
He sees the church spires and the minarets,
As giant needles that anaesthetise the sky –
He’s got the courage to ask you for your watch –
But he lacks the strength to say ‘goodbye’.
He’s a confidence man, don’t say I never warned you,
Always equipped with a plan, now prepare to pay the price.
Clutching a copy of “The Ten Commandments for Con-men,”
Written by the man who sold the Eiffel tower, twice.
There’s no limit to the time he can spend,
Occupying the space inside his head,
He said: “The sleep of reason, produces monsters –
But not the kind that live under your bed.
The quiet, creeping kind – that aren’t really there at all,
But if you let them in, they’ll ruin you –
And you’ll live out your days in a room with padded walls.”
Sometimes you listen to songs,
Just for something to ignore,
Sometimes you look down at your hands,
And ask yourself what they’re for.
Other times you look into the mirror,
And tell yourself you’re everything you abhor.
He sees the church spires and the minarets,
As giant needles that anaesthetise the sky –
He’s got the courage to ask you for your watch –
But he lacks the strength to say ‘goodbye’.
He sees the church spires and the minarets,
As giant needles that anaesthetise the sky –
He’s got the courage to ask you for your watch –
But he lacks the strength to say ‘goodbye’.
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5. |
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You hold your bag in the crux of your arm,
In the hope it makes you look elegant, or accentuates your charm.
But what if the adverse were true:
And you were pushing away those who’d want to be near to you?
You were spraying on your pheromones,
While he was in the hospital –
And the doctor’s reading out a list of his broken bones.
And isn’t it hilarious? (some might say sublime)
That you can blow a kiss and give the eye at the same time.
But it’s never enough; it’ll never suffice,
So you’ll just sit at the bar and mouth words that aren’t very nice.
You keep him wrapped around your finger,
You say: “You’re not good enough for me,”
But when he asked you how you were,
You said “Très bien, merci”.
And like a razor you use once, and then throw away,
You’re using him; and you know perfectly well he’ll stay.
You’ve no qualms with breaking hearts,
But you lack the composure for homicide,
You could wear that dress (the one that’s Chanel)
In the hope that you’d silence what you fought to keep inside.
(What you fought to keep inside).
You smoke cigarettes and Kerosene,
There’s a smog that surrounds,
All your friends say: “If you carry on this way, it’s going to come back around,”
But try as they might you won’t give them your attention,
Not in the interests of love, or crime prevention.
You’ve no qualms with breaking hearts,
But you lack the composure for homicide,
You could wear that dress (the one that’s Chanel)
In the hope that you’d silence what you fought to keep inside.
(What you fought to keep inside).
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6. |
Into Your Arms
01:46
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I tried to fly into your arms
But I couldn't fly,
I couldn't even walk.
I tried to love into your arms,
But I couldn't love,
I couldn't even talk.
But when we talk -
My mind goes black and blue.
Well I'd run rings around the sun,
Just to be with you.
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7. |
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The coffee grounds are burnt.
There’s a tea-stain on your shirt.
There’s blood on your lapel,
From where you cut yourself shaving.
Some say you’re a tax evader,
Or that you’re still playing Space-Invaders,
But whichever one of those is true,
I still think it’s amazing.
And twenty clear plasters couldn’t cover the scars,
Or the bruises, or the heartache you’ve caused.
You might be a doctor, a lawyer, or an Indian chief,
But that don’t excuse you – from breaking the law.
And what about that lover you had,
You two were as-thick-as-thieves,
But I can see from the colour of your eyes –
You feel like you’re bereaved.
Some say she gave up the fight,
Or she lost the battle with cellulite,
It would seem there ain’t a surgeon in the world,
Who could help her now.
And twenty clear plasters couldn’t cover the scars,
Or the bruises, or the heartache you’ve caused.
You might be a doctor, a lawyer, or an Indian chief,
But that don’t excuse you – from breaking the law.
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8. |
Worried Looks
04:10
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You were there the night Tommy Cooper died,
Sat making notes on the back row,
Trying to finish that novel you started,
And ensuring it didn't end a diatribe.
You clapped along when you felt like it,
Laughed when it felt appropriate,
I’m sure you stuck out like a sore-thumb.
But when you feel like the end is coming,
You take you chance – ‘cause you might not get another one.
And the worried looks on children’s faces,
Were enough to make you scared,
Though you tried to act so nonchalantly,
They all knew that you cared –
For the ones who saw it coming,
And the ones you left behind,
While mediocre wasn’t what you hoped for,
It was all that you could find.
You tried your hand at levitation,
You tried to saw yourself in two,
But your living room’s not the place for magic tricks,
And you ended up with a nasty bruise.
So you packed your dreams in freezer bags,
And hid them all away,
But when the time came to unpack them all –
You realised they’d been replaced.
Peering over the tops of the walls you’ve built,
Standing on the tips of your toes.
You look out on all the bone’s you’ve collected,
And hope you’ll live to see them decompose.
And the worried looks on children’s faces,
Were enough to make you scared,
Though you tried to act so nonchalantly,
They all knew that you cared –
For the ones who saw it coming,
And the ones you left behind,
While mediocre wasn’t what you hoped for,
It was all that you could find.
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Fugitive Orchestra Portsmouth, UK
Singer-Songwriter James Tattington began performing as Fugitive Orchestra after reading a passage in a J. G.
Ballard novel.
Fusing together Beatboxing, Live-Looping and Guitar, Fugitive Orchestra makes music best described as Alternative Jazz-infused, Bluesy Hip-Pop; drawing inspiration from the likes of Andrew Bird, LCD Soundsystem, Talking Heads, Paul Simon, Kate Bush and the Blue Nile.
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