Ahem
Well I would let you know if this Sunday's worse
Than next Monday, I feel so unrehearsed
Fragmented sentences abound
Whenever you or your photograph hangs around
But I'm cannonballing into a Nile-sized file
Of trying to make you smile
Well I could take you out or you could take me out
With one well-placed shot to the mouth
Well I'm fine with flying high but my wiper fluid just ran dry
I need another training day
For more ingenuous ways to make you found
The morning after your laughter still projects
The fragmented song of the fairer sex
I'm small and feeble and undermined
And generally unaware, I find
With two minutes left to hear your chime
One hundred and twenty seconds' time
I gotta hold on longer, fake all my powers
Whenever two minutes becomes two hours
I'm hell bent on getting this across
But my vocabulary and I are lost
Behind the bangs, they're at an angle
Now I fear that I'm becoming tangled
I could take another look into the stars
And maybe find a constellation that would tell us where we are
And I could draw a picture of it on a napkin at a bar
And give it to you as a gift so you could wipe away your scars
Tom Snowden, from Alice Springs, Australia, turns in six soft, Arthur Russell-y covers of favorites from Björk, Kylie Minogue, and more. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 11, 2020
Recorded on the Grecian isle of Hydra, this is blissed-out psych pop with stacked falsetto harmonies and luscious arrangements. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 9, 2023
Two dozen 12-string acoustic improvisations that feel undeniably haunting, like lost transmissions from ancient Appalachia, rediscovered. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 17, 2022