Live at Pete's Candy Store

by Fugitive Orchestra

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Recorded live at Pete's Candy Store, Brooklyn on the last day of my New York 'mini-tour' last year.

All proceeds from album sales will go directly to The Listening Place, a wonderful charity providing free help and face-to-face support for those who are feeling suicidal.

listeningplace.org.uk

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released April 19, 2019

Engineered & mixed by Irving Gadoury

Recorded live at Pete's Candy Store, Brooklyn 15/10/18

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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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Track Name: Youthful Masochists
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.
Track Name: Tomahawk Caress
It’s slipping through my fingers like a castle made of sand
You can read it in the paper, you can get it on demand.
‘Round here it gets so hot, the concrete slips right off the streets
Monsters coming out of hiding, crawling underneath your sheets.

But you know I love the feel of your tomahawk caress
Got your finger on the button babe, you ain’t nothing like the rest.
But if you feel my touch grow cold, like the settling of doubts;
March over my borders babe, raze it all into the ground.

We can see it in your eyes like it’s written on your face
Your office is in ruins, your country’s been disgraced.
With ‘yes’ men all around you - they’re all complicit in your game
But their children’s children’s children will still be cursing out your name.

You know I love the feel of your tomahawk caress
Got your finger on the button babe, you ain’t nothing like the rest.
But if you feel my touch grow cold, like the settling of doubts;
March over my borders babe, raze it all into the ground.

Some ten years later, someone’s surveying the scene
People have rebuilt, and wounds have all been cleaned
There are houses built near the craters, in the remnants of our love.
But if you want to keep your conscience clean - you’re gonna have to cover it up.
You’re gonna have to cover it up.
You’re gonna have to cover it up.
You’re gonna have to cover it up.

You know I love the feel of your tomahawk caress
Got your finger on the button babe, you ain’t nothing like the rest.
But if you feel my touch grow cold, like the settling of doubts;
March over my borders babe, raze it all into the ground.
Track Name: Nostalgia Blues
I tried to tap-dance, but soon found I was wearing steel toe-capped shoes.
I've tried playing by the rules, yet even when I break them I soon find that I lose.
If I can't get out of this constricting kimono, I'll be stuck with the nostalgia blues.

My bread always lands on the buttered-side, but why do I feel like I'm the only one?
That by some universal conspiracy I've got less time to get all these things done.
If I can't wriggle out of this crocheted-bikini, I'll be stuck with the nostalgia blues.

Cause nostalgia is a currency we never seem to be running out of.
And I always seem to be on the wrong side of the road.
We've heard and will obey all of those adverts,
While the scheduled engineering-work will continue as planned.
And we say: "We want our shirts whiter than Jesus;
We want our reality on demand."

I've had many tries to visualise a future in which I could be someone whom I could admire and not despise,
Well each time I fail and feel alone and so confused.
If I can't get out of this faded tuxedo I'll be stuck with the nostalgia blues.

Cause nostalgia is a currency we never seem to be running out of.
And I always seem to be on the wrong side of the road.
We've heard and will obey all of those adverts,
While the scheduled engineering-work will continue as planned.
And we sing: "We want our shirts whiter than Jesus;
We want our reality on demand."
Track Name: Scared of the Sky (New York ending)
And nothing ever changes,
They’re rebuilding roads and rooms that feel like cages.
Well it’s hiding under bridges,
Whistling through the trees.
Don’t look for the answer in the books you’ve found,
Or in the summer breeze.

How can you believe what you believe without being scared of the sky?
How can you deceive, the way you’ve been deceived,
Without having tears in your eyes?

The suburbs sighed a symphony,
At night the gutters cry and the ocean weeps.
The pavements chatter senselessly,
While the buildings whisper lists of threats
Through panes of glass and crooked teeth.

How can you believe what you believe without being scared of the sky?
How can you deceive, the way you’ve been deceived,
Without having tears in your eyes?

And then you finally realise,
You’ve lived your life for someone you’ve never even met.
You were born unclean, or so it seems,
And there’s no way you’ll be getting out just yet.
You’re feeling so vulnerable, you feel just like a kid
And you’re so scared of dying, without ever having lived.

How can you believe what you believe without being scared of the sky?
How can you deceive, the way you’ve been deceived,
Without having tears in your eyes?

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