Light The Windows In These Places Let Through
by Rhode Island
-
Digital Album
Immediate download of 11-track album in your choice of high-quality MP3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.Buy Now name your price
-
Compact Disc
Comes in a glossy cardboard wallet. Maybe with some other stuff as well. FREE SHIPPING.
Includes immediate download of 11-track album in your choice of high-quality MP3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.Buy Now ₤0.50 GBP or more
ships out within 2 days
1. |
War With Iran
03:10
|
|||
|
| ||||
2. |
||||
|
| ||||
3. |
Articulation
03:17
|
|||
|
| ||||
4. |
A House
04:11
|
|||
|
| ||||
5. |
||||
|
| ||||
6. |
Franck's Plantation
01:59
|
|||
7. |
Gouranga
05:37
|
|||
|
| ||||
8. |
Alcoholics
02:27
|
|||
|
| ||||
9. |
||||
|
| ||||
10. |
Change In Repetition
04:38
|
|||
|
| ||||
11. |
Shipwreck
04:18
|
|||
|
| ||||
about
‘An undiscovered gem.’
Aaron Kupferberg, Powerpopaholic
www.powerpopaholic.com/2011/10/rhode-island-exnorwegian.html
‘Rhode Island possess the wit of a dagger.’
Michael Rowland, This Is A Popscene
www.thisisapopscene.co.uk?p=920
‘Ridiculously ear-pleasing. This is pop music at its finest.’
Penfold, The Ripple Effect
www.ripplemusic.blogspot.com
‘A splash of Summer about it.’
James Horrigan, Leeds Music Scene
www.leedsmusicscene.net/article/15659/
Aaron Kupferberg, Powerpopaholic
www.powerpopaholic.com/2011/10/rhode-island-exnorwegian.html
‘Rhode Island possess the wit of a dagger.’
Michael Rowland, This Is A Popscene
www.thisisapopscene.co.uk?p=920
‘Ridiculously ear-pleasing. This is pop music at its finest.’
Penfold, The Ripple Effect
www.ripplemusic.blogspot.com
‘A splash of Summer about it.’
James Horrigan, Leeds Music Scene
www.leedsmusicscene.net/article/15659/
credits
released 22 October 2011
Written, performed and recorded by Dave Brown, Jeff Johns and Will Turner. Recorded intermittently between January and August 2011, at various houses across the north of England. Mastered by Tom Woodhead at Hippocratic Mastering.
Written, performed and recorded by Dave Brown, Jeff Johns and Will Turner. Recorded intermittently between January and August 2011, at various houses across the north of England. Mastered by Tom Woodhead at Hippocratic Mastering.
tags
license
feeds
feeds for discography
-
Oct 2011 -
Mar 2010 -
Jun 2010 -
Nov 2008 -
Dec 2008 -
Nov 2007 -
Sep 2007 -
Mar 2006 -
Jan 2005
contact / help
For help with downloads, click here.
For all other inquiries, including help with merch, click here.
Redeem download codes here.
- Track Name: War With Iran
-
The hottest time of day, put her hand on the car
Feel the flush of hot metal running straight to her heart
Her mind thinks up people and places and plans
The corner-shop owner predicts a war with Iran
A family caught in traffic as they pass by the church
The father tells the children if we’re late it’s god’s work
People in the petrol station talk nuclear proliferation
People in the trees, in the trains and the trams
Ba-da, ba-da, ba-da!
Camp by the lake where the four boys drowned
Hollywood homes built on burial grounds
Teachers and policeman and conservative libertarians
People in the trees, in the trains and the trams
Centuries of giving in, centuries of giving out
Uh-oh, lock the door and switch off the radio
The push and pull of people with no past
We came, we saw, we never thought to ask
Stick out your arm, it’s probably going to sting
Ba-da, ba-da, ba-da!
People in the trees, in the trains and the trams
People in the trees, in the trains and the trams
People in the trees, in the trains and the trams
People in the trees, in the trains and the trams
The hottest time of year, smell of rot on the breeze
With the spiders in the house, and general sense of unease
The junkmail is jammed up with exclamations and red ink
Like Jack Nicholson in The Shining you would kill for a drink
The photograph of Churchill in your grandparents’ house
The mildew in the hallway leaves a taste in your mouth
People round the laser printer prophesise an Arab winter
People in the trees, in the trains and the trams
Ba-da, ba-da, ba-da! - Track Name: I Lost My Mind (In The Middle Of The Summer)
-
A welly through my door and a bullet inside my brain
A dirty floor and an ominous stain and
Nicotine, nicotine, nicotine and coffee and nicotine
Walking into work in pyjamas and dressing gown
Stumble in the lounge give the TV a dressing down
Listerine, Listerine, Listerine, Corsedyl and Listerine
I lost my mind in the middle of the summer
The middle of the summer, the middle of the summer
I lost my mind in the middle of the summer
If I wake up in the night
Would you pass me a notepad and pen
The spotlight is coming out again
It wakes you up, wakes you up, wakes you up
I’m sorry that it wakes you up
In the evening when it’s heavy with heat and rain
You swear you hear the Chinese woman hollering again
I understand, understand, understand
Although I don’t believe you
We lost our minds in the middle of the summer
The middle of the summer, the middle of the summer
We lost our minds in the middle of the summer
The middle of summer, alright!
What’s the limit, what is the limit tell me
What’s the limit, what is the limit limit
What’s the limit, what is the limit alright! - Track Name: Articulation
-
I’ve started sleep-walking
I’ve started changing, started thanking cash machines
I’ve started watching Emmerdale
My mother and father are pretty worried, but I’m alright
Although sometimes it makes me cry
When I can’t tell if someone’s beautiful or not
Listen honey, I rely on the material things and labels to survive
It’s the little things in life that pick you up and put you down
The tiny bones in the area of articulation in the lower jaw
The connections between systems:
As graceful as a quenched thirst, as necessary as a dying fall
But still I trawl through muddy banks to isolate the thing I love
From spit-balls, nails, and hair, and used condoms
Floating down the ship canal
Until I realise they are in my bed as well
Articulation: the state of being jointed
Like a lorry on a motorway, an old friend with a place to stay
I made my bed, I played the game, I hold my hands up to you
Well do you think this is really all we have?
Or is there more? - Track Name: A House
-
And you will know her by the sound she's making
And you will hear her close the oven door
And you have heard it close a hundred times before
And you will know him by the sound his bag makes
You watch it skip across the kitchen floor
We love the sound of the central heating
As it creaks behind the walls
And I would die without you
You took the dog to get vaccinated
You pinned the appointment up behind the bed
And I still see it even though the dog is dead
We dream about Victorian architecture
We know the lead that runs between the panes
And all the while the kitchen’s going brown with nicotine stains
And I am mad about you, and I am mad about you
And I am mad about
I, I won’t find happiness, I won’t find anything unless it’s here
In the hallway we smell the damp and I hold you near
I, I won’t find happiness, I won’t find anything unless it’s here
In the hallway we smell the damp
Thank god you’re here, thank god you’re here
Thank god you’re here, thank god you’re here
Thank god you’re here, thank god you’re here
Thank god you’re here, thank god you’re
I'm mad about you - Track Name: Perils Of A Life Less Lived
-
If a double-decker bus with us collides
I hope I’m driving and it hits the passenger side
I’m used to feeling bad about feeling bad
These days, I feel nothing at all: they’re the best I’ve had
Till death us do part, lawyers take heart
Septuagenarians falling apart at the seems
Is it wrong? I’d feel no shame or sense of guilt
After all, you’re life-insuranced up to the hilt
And I could finally get that conservatory built without you
Til death us do part, I’ll take the car
You take the house, I’ll take the kids
We’ll loudly pontificate on all the things we never did
I should have done this years ago, let the neighbours talk
I know I’m right, I know I’m right - Track Name: Gouranga
-
Don’t you push me, I need to be alone
And don’t you rush me, I need to be on my own
The phone-lines crackle with hate
Over head satellites triangulate
I read it on a motorway, call out Gouranga
And things will be OK, even if the words won’t go away
And when there’s nothing left to say, whisper Gouranga
And things will be OK, there’s cloud ahead
The skies are looking grey, oh they’re looking grey
Uh-ohhh
The streetlights find me, I’ve got to find me a route
To the middle of the road
I sold everything I ever owned
The phone-lines crackle with hate
Over head satellites triangulate
I read it on a motorway, call out Gouranga
And things will be OK, even if the words won’t go away
And when there’s nothing left to say, whisper Gouranga!
And things will be OK, there’s cloud ahead
The skies are looking grey, oh they’re looking grey - Track Name: Alcoholics
-
I spent the month finishing my screenplay off
A sitcom about two alcoholics
They share a flat that overlooks the railway track
Their lives are full of horror and hilarity
Variations on a recurring joke
The laughs come thick and fast as each week we realise
That they’ll do anything, anything, anything
Anything, anything at all
They’ll do it over and over and over and over again, yeah!
One of them is in denial about his problem
The other is disarmingly frank: comedic tension
They row a lot about whether they have kids or not
And who is that woman who called? They can’t remember
And every week the situation starts again
‘Cos they’ll do anything, anything, anything, anything
Anything, anything, anything, anything
Anything, anything, anything, anything, anything at all
They’ll do it over and over and over and over again - Track Name: Good Morning, Captain John Lerro
-
On the train out from the centre-ville
You and me, a kind of serenity
We drank so much, we threw up on the Ferris Wheel
Count the streets and broken seats, I turned to you
And tried to say: oh baby please!
I feel the same way everyday, I feel the same way everyday
I feel the same way everyday, and I hope you feel the same
I just think I need to get my need back
We need to be somewhere overseas
I won’t find a summer like the one I knew you had
I can’t decide what to show and what to feel
If this is life then tell my why
I say the same thing everyday, I say the same thing everyday
I say the same thing everyday, and its not even that great
In a way it almost makes me start
(In a way its something indescribable)
In a way it almost breaks my heart
(In a way its something near unspeakable)
In a way it’s making me see clearly when I know its just a blur
And I see its something you hold dearly
Now I don’t even know where to start
This sadness in my heart, malevolent and breeding down
I’ve got to turn these words around from black and blue
But you’ve got so many memories coursing through your mind
Am I competing all the time?
The Sunshine Skylark’s in my mind
I wear the same clothes everyday
I wear the same clothes everyday
I wear the same clothes everyday
And I’m not sure what that says
In a way it almost makes me start
(In a way its something indescribable)
In a way it almost breaks my heart
(In a way its something near unspeakable)
In a way it’s making me see clearly when I know its just a blur
And I see its something you hold dearly
In this Sunshine Skylark world
Good morning John Lerro, good morning John Lerro
Good morning John Lerro, good morning John Lerro
Good morning John Lerro, good morning John Lerro
Good morning John Lerro, good morning John Lerro - Track Name: Change In Repetition
-
Try to imagine nothing at all
If you can manage it would you give me call
And tell me, is it fat or skinny? Is it short or tall?
Is nothing black or white or brown, or big or small?
I’m a hopeless bore, you’re a hopeless drunk
We’ve said these things before
But let’s say them again and again
And they’ll change in repetition, and we’ll fall in love again
Do me a favour, write me a song
About the tiniest things in our lives: 2 ft wide x 2ft tall
Let’s not ask questions, let’s just go out and dance
The emptiness in rock n roll is our only chance
And we fall apart, everytime he sings, put on Golden Years And then we’ll listen to Word on A Wing
Sweet name you’re born once again, once again for me
Come a little closer and we’ll sing it again and again
And we’ll change in repetition
No, no, I don’t know what I’m feeling
I don’t know what I’m feeling at all
No, no, I don’t know what I’m feeling
I don’t know what I’m feeling at all
No, no, I don’t know what I’m feeling
I don’t know what I’m feeling at all
No, no, I don’t know what I’m feeling
I don’t know what I’m feeling at all - Track Name: Shipwreck
-
Bobbing boxes in milky water off a coastal town
Men dragging things on to roof-racks, women tying them down
A shipwreck brings the whole town to the beach
A shipwreck makes the whole town thankful
Something’s happening today, hip hip hooray
Something, something
I stole some videos, you stole some spoons
You gave them to your mother
I stayed in the whole of June
Old porn films and family holidays
Images that meant something to someone somewhere
I caught my reflection on the screen
Me on them, them on me, there’s nothing inbetween
And I asked you to collect me
And you asked me where I’d been
And I held your back so tightly as we rode down to the beach
Threw the videos in the sea, and they’ll drift away
They’ll drift away, they’ll drift away, they’ll drift away
