Murmur Breeze 7​-​inch

by Murmur Breeze

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  • Immediate download of 3-track album in the high-quality format of your choice (MP3, FLAC, and more), plus unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.

     €7 EUR

     

  • Buy limited 7 inch of Murmur Breeze

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about

Following the acclaimed 'Bird Irony', AbSUrd and James P Honey combine their musical genius once again for a 7 inch on your yet to become favorite label.

Ominous synths, clattering mechanical cries and soothing strings weave in and out of the sometimes poetic ramblings and often wailing words. Expect a dream like soundscape to work its way across your wavering senses in a wash of pallid pastel and splattered neon strokes. And that's not even the half of it. Dare to try.

"James P Honey and AbSUrd go together like jelly and ice cream. And I love jelly and ice cream." - Steven

credits

released 10 August 2010

Produced by AbSUrd

Vocals by James P Honey

Mixed by James Reindeer

Artwork by Albane

www.ctc-records.com

tags

license

all rights reserved

feeds

feeds for this album, this artist
Track Name: Float
float

the clouds clamping down tightly around the raging sea
an energy so realistic as the layers swing like sequins winking beneath the fire
of a once grand chandelier
take an axe to the belly of your boat and I hope you can’t swim I hope you don’t float

let’s rendezvous come the length of noon at whichever horizon we happen to reach
first and then play who can stay weightless the longest
as we pass the burden born from the deepness of nowhere in a cyclical motion the
only warm place left lies at the bottom of an escalator
does it seem we’ve forgotten how to offer ourselves? Descending further and further
into nicotine tanned chests
rush for a heaven hanged by the emergency red cable swaying in the breeze through
the poorly insulated woodchip walling
teen helpline call centre switchboards flicker violently ruby red like christmases gone
wrong ever further
one can hardly see above the parcels, puss and puppy fat we rap our moisturised
murderous mitts around thirstily
poor perfect me long lost in a flaky portrait
the disturbing depths of an oil drenched surface thick and ridiculing anything that
scrapes across the foreground

varnish the vantage point a rosy wash whatever the cost it’s worth sitting behind
buildings
speckled beige and rain eroded
this wireless intrudes yet again

obnoxious, self suppressive screaming stubbled jaw line mind the step and head butt
the low beam bridging the pillars of the palace
the moat flows slowly around the mound of melting plastic romances,
vital figures and head shots
mythical magnets enticing moulded plates of tin dented in a peculiarly pretty pattern
huddled and holding hands around a dusty dry keg we stayed there squabbling and
still awaiting orders from a pill infested and unhealthily over weight absent apparent
maker
an eyebrow raising situation of love if ever one came rolling our way clean swiping
heads from thin and tired shoulders

protruding through last-seasons essentials this is the coldest I’ve been since rising up
and climbing off the empty side of the lushes leaves we lied entwined upon kind of
like blind lovers might do in an old bronzed novel

the unnerving silence clings like bile
to the inclining sides of the city gates

take an axe to the belly of your boat and I hope you can’t swim I hope you don’t float
Track Name: Dusty Door Knobs
dusty door knobs

i recall there were fallen apples everywhere
and an old wooden chair left to rest against the cold stone wall
the buildings so tall they seem to lean against the dusk
reclining back into the vastness surrounding us
was that a question we heard or just a heavy silence?
and all the while the neighbouring city burned
the flames reflected in a hospital window
no volunteer stepped forward
air conditioned rooms with dusty door knobs
Track Name: Catch The Mirage
catch the mirage

wide empty sky…
a notion shared over dinner more per head than most get in a week
the ripples sluggishly reach the shore and poured back
growing extensively in both volume and stature the sun on my neck and my face in
the shade pussy and peeling
the pavilion picked apart by the poorpers
treachery in the tower
annual fares and fates real unimportant like landmarks disappearing
hang me by my feet from a cheap key ring and keep raining the razors
an industry niche turns influential global contributor
the gilder of custom built guillotines
the hooded executioner ostracised by the villagers weeps for the widowers who sweep
his floor bath his feet and plant poison and pigeons in their wigs
the giggles grow ghastly truly totally twisted a deep set sickness grips the face of your
loved ones
a gift as bright as their future and an opinion that swings and really matters
god is a feminist
how do I get help?
spare less then ten minutes to complete the survey
we’ve made a beer belly day job and dreams of an additional home in the cotswolds
cold as and ex-wife’s embrace

and as tasteless as the tongue of an imaginary lover
rubber stamp with an unfamiliar aggression those handed down stolen and found
mounds of emotion on your crude and pallid brow
how delightful

being bitten by strangers
you are normal
formal functions
police truncheons at peaceful protests
empty hearted
decimated
level headed
darkly happy
dead inside
diligent
quirky

thousands of thumb nails flirt for your attention as if the cursor could be controlled by
will alone
leaking vessels afloat on oceans of desire
while the end descends like and embalmers sheet
a televised downward spiral will always draw the masses plump in the genitals and
tooled up to the teeth
an unexpected item in the baggage area prompts a breakdown of disproportionate
scale in the self service check out
brutal bouts to the death over club cards

martyrs to material moments
the men of tomorrow they are nowhere to be found

the gilder of custom guillotines

the baroness will be presenting her stuffed and reawaken road kill arranged into
fantasy scenarios where insect fairy tormentors seek revenge for all their brethren
once smothered in killing jars and pinned in display case trophies after the croquet has
been concluded
instant credibility and personal prestige is but a dream engagement away
ancient limestone filtering natural spring water we can’t get near to before the bottle
top is screwed tight priced up and sold for promises along with your prettiest daughter
an awesome spectacle for all involved in the orgy
giddy with anticipation the pay phone pendulates off the hook
fizzing