1. |
Better left alone.
03:09
|
|||
2. |
Sleepless in Larrimah
04:20
|
|||
|
Sleepless in Larrimah
I got one eye skinned but this town's still got depth of field. Read the body language of the houses on a lean. See the garden gone to weeds where the old folks use to meet. Was there a run on the bank cause everybody here had to leave
Ring the old school bell, where the kids use to play. Hear the aural history speaking in the rustling leaves. We could stay for a while and wear out our welcome. There's an eerie kind of feeling, in middle of the night
Trespassing on a moon lit night, didn't feel so right. Take me to the well, drag the bones from the bottom, hear the stories that they have to tell. Walking lock step with a ghost from the past learning who things use to be. Maybe there's a reason that we were meant to come here but I think that it's time leave
See the broken glass where the squatters paint the walls. See the general store sign falling through the rusty iron. The unkept graves of those not brought to justice. The antiquated ink press rolling out the old gazette.
I got one foot down on the pedal, I'm in a right mind to leave. Some towns just you shivers. Spurred on by kicking heels.
|
||||
3. |
Scrapyard Lullaby
03:21
|
|||
|
Scrapyard Lullaby - Chris Whitley.
Wake up running on the sacred ground. Searching the scrapyard for my dirty crown
I've been walking a very long time. Baby child up on her mama's knee
Thirty-five angels looking back at me. They be watching with eyes so wide
In a sea of steel I seen a golden glow. Screaming the message anyone could know
Like a walking translation down a street of lies. Singing these scrapyard lullaby
I'm gonna' take my time for her riches Waiting for the diamonds to ripen in the ditches of love around here. Things are never as they appear. I Got a natural pearl in my calloused hand
waiting for the girl who could really understand what it takes to see The gold from the alchemy
From a rusted hood I see the stars fall about. Screaming a message anyone could find out
Like a walking translation down a street of lies. Singing these scrapyard lullaby. Hush now baby dream sweet things. Mamas gonna bring your anvil some wings
She will let it go, you won't even know. Cause the chrome do rust and the dust do shine
Broken could be golden in it's very own time. But you can be sure, you won't even know what for. Now I'm down in the junk on a darkened day. Searching the prizes others throw away. Like a walking translation down a street of lies. Singing this scrapyard lullaby
Wake up running on the sacred ground. Searching the scrapyard for my dirty crown. I been walking, a very long time.
|
||||
4. |
Nice road to be lost on
01:47
|
|||
5. |
Camooweal Crossing
02:52
|
|||
6. |
Trying to live
03:38
|
|||
|
Trying to live
Mourning the absence of a previous self. Saying goodbye to who I was. Do I die, just a little and let go of the pain. Am I dying, Am I dying. Just to live
Love and grieve, carry the same flame. Marching around with certain pride. We have our differences, but feel the same. Are we dying, are we dying. Just to live.
So farewell to the bitterness I held for too long. I thought it was useful, my thinking was all wrong. Farewell to the old me, that victim must regress. You're dying, you're dying, like the rest.
He sat with addiction, seven years of shame. He stole from the ones who gave him his name. His mother cried profusely, from her tears came change. So he's dying, he's dying just live.
Father oh father, you drink too much. Yelling at mother and speaking double Dutch. My family I hear you, this drinking has to stop. I'm dying I'm dying just to live
Mother was weeping, she always did too much. Mother grew pitiful, she couldn't feel to touch. She went to the healer, to let things go. She is dying she is dying just to live . Glory to the ones who can work through their pain. Problems came before and they'll probably come again. Victory is sweet if we live another day Keep trying, keep trying just to live
|
||||
7. |
On the way to you
03:55
|
|||
|
On the way to you
I cut my hair in front of a mirror. One blade cuts, the other will sever. I bought a car that had rust in the roof. It leaks on my head on the way to you. Glare of windscreen, driver fatigue, despair and dust spires, dispute and release. Kangaroo in head lights, a picture of panic. Historical fiction on the way to you. Stray dog drinks from a puddle of mud, arrested hydration, tires in ruts. Abandoned wool sheds, leaving no clues. These are the things on the way to you.
I played at sunset and I saw you there. I held my own in the bright red chair. I played for hours in the court house markets. Sunset in Broome, on my way to you.
I drove to Kalgoorlie to ask for you there. The golden mile fever was thick in the air. They made cake, gave things from the garden. These are the things on the way to you. I saw a mirage on the Nullarbour plain. I saw the future in the crease of a hand. I met a scryer with a crystal that viewed. The figure I saw was a figure of you. I saw things with my own eyes the droughts, the floods and the insistent flies. I've shivered in cold and staggered in heat, I played my best in the face of defeat. I walked to the cradle, I stood by the mountain, I sang in a cave, a cathedral of lime stone. I played towns from there to Darwin. These are the things on the way to you. Sometimes there were curtains, sometimes there were lights, Sometimes you listened till the late of night. Sometimes thousands but mostly just a few, these are the things on the way to you. I spent my pay in every small town. I drove for days, unpaid till I found. Rows of chairs or just people that listen. These are the things on the way to you. I've slept near roads with the sound of trucks. Got covered in oil maintaining that bus. I've dealt with the odds and I've dealt with bad luck. These are the things on the way to you
If you don't mind if we could meet again. I'll hold you close till I see you then. I love you like potatoes bake on a Monday night. I'm so glad that you came here tonight
|
||||
8. |
Middle and two ends
03:34
|
|||
|
Middle and Two ends
Remember that time we went out for breakfast. We bought some food for the Homeless. You taught me to be immaculate when I'm giving, to always act on fact, before I do my talking.
Cause you're the middle and two ends you're the middle and two ends you're the middle and two ends of a good person.
Since then things have got complicated They're as dotty as you please with a complex as big as all outdoors. While the economic choices of our human existence. Seem to death defy, skill and craft to stultify. But you're the middle and two ends you're the middle and two ends you're the middle and two ends of a good person.
Sometimes, we get it right, sometimes we get it all wrong. Just when life is falling apart. I can trust your way of keeping it all together. There's a part of me that wants to be like you, because you're always calm and you make great decisions. But I don't want to Plagiarize your characteristics, in a desperate plea to form my own cliché.
|
||||
9. |
Fire at the bridge
03:13
|
|||
|
Fire at the bridge
There was a meeting outside, you couldn't hear through the glass. There was a note in your hand and it's hard to give notes back. He sold the farm for a smile. He lost so many like her. She said don't leave us, don't go. It's hard to get love back. Now you float like a feather in the winds of a storm, you're just out of reach for the people that were holding on. You're the fire at the bridge and the river where it runs. One hand can't wash the other in the winds of the storm, in the winds of the storm. What's life without a regret? There came a knock at the door, he came to see you again. It's hard just to sit and chat. Now you float like a feather in the winds of a storm, your just out of reach for the people that were holding on. You're the fire at the bridge and the river where it runs. One hand can't wash the other in the winds of the storm, in the winds of the storm.
|
||||
10. |
||||
11. |
Ostracised oblivion
04:08
|
|||
|
Ostracized Oblivion
Head lights show the right way. Sometimes the wrong turns, will lead you to right places. Direction on your terms. Set aside opinions. Choose the words you speak. Unraveling with strangers. Out spoken and the meek. Does there have to be a motive for changing wants to needs. To see the open spaces, to leave the crowded streets. There's too many roads not driven there's too many things not seen. Such few rewards are given. The safe will learn the key. There's riches in the un seen. Waiting to be found. It's matchless and it's sacred. Sleeping on the ground in this ostracized oblivion. Standing in the fore ground. Unequaled by boutique. The distance is irrelevant. Contrast for the bleak. Illimitable and boundless. No beauty shall compare. Your wild heart is restless. Longing to be there. There's riches in the un seen. Waiting to be found. It's matchless and it's sacred. Sleeping on the ground in this ostracized oblivion.
|
||||
12. |
||||
|
Running east with a compass
Running East with a compass and we're trying to find a sunset. With such accurate use of our own worst excuses. From the dizzying heights of those wayward and curbed adventures, came the advances of our brand new direction. They say never look back but we had to have a look and we found it there. The falling sun right or wrong was behind us all the time. Just like bread in the oven it must our time to rise. Don't regret for a second or try to sympathize. You and I both know that the best years to come. In the irony of our currency worth its weight in gold, why is a raven like a writing desk, I don't know. My implausible conclusions are lacking a stronger case, like the out dated assumptions of our position in the human race, or the value of our great escape from it. Does the heart that we beat bleed with obsolescence? When we're done and we're gone, will there be love still in our presence. For all that I ask was it music and love that used us to stay alive? Because I never found value or comfort in the cars that I drive. You and I know that the best years to come. In the irony of our currency worth its weight in gold, why is a raven like a writing desk, I don't know. My implausible conclusions are lacking a stronger case, like the out dated assumptions of our position in the human race, or the value of our great escape from it.
|
||||
Jeremiah Johnson Australia
"exemplary guitar work on fingerpick, strum and slide. Coupled with mellifluous singing."
Rhythms
Magazine
"an adroit blend of slide guitar and vocal versatility"
Rhythms Magazine (2017)
"Authentic, Refreshing and Reminiscent of the late Colin Minus"
Cara Robinson (Hat Fits & Cara)
"Jeremiah Johnson's performance was outstanding!"
Michael Crowley Program Director (Tablelands Folk Festival)
... more
If you like Jeremiah Johnson, you may also like:
MATANGO!
by The Kill Devil Hills
Down and dirty blues rock from this Western Australian band makes for a truly visceral listening experience.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Mar 12, 2024
go to album
The Pilgrim, Their God and The King Of My Decrepit Mountain
by Tapir!
A three-part indie folk opera sustained by fantastical imagery, graceful singing, and pillowy synth flourishes.
go to album
More folk-inflected confessionals on love, loss, and anxiety — plus a Kacey Musgraves cameo —from the Nashville indie pop auteur.
go to album
She Reaches Out To She Reaches Out To She
by CHELSEA WOLFE
Produced by Dave Sitek (TV on the Radio), the singer-songwriter's latest LP imbues haunting goth folk with industrial-electronic catharsis.
go to album
French-Colombian double bassist and singer infuses Latin rhythms with experimental electronics, field recordings, and more.
go to album
This may be Nate Kinsella's "dad record," but the array of experimental sounds and soulful songs on offer evidence a new creative peak.
go to album
