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Facepalm

by Bishopston Hardware

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    Songs. With singing. A new departure, so this is under the name Bishopston Hardware. Gotta keep that Beigelord brand pure.

    My voice is very weak, but I'm close to being in tune about 90% of the time here I reckon, which is as good as it's going to get. The vocals are hiding low in the mix, but you can hear them pretty well in headphones if you want. Or I typed out the lyrics. I like the words a lot more than I like the sound of me singing them.

    Made when I was depressed, in preference to writing the same miserable shit in my journal that I've been writing for the last 25 years. It was really fun trying to make songs rather than making instrumentals. Thanks music, you got me through another shitty time.

    Written and recorded at home, August-October 2023.

    Thanks and sorry to Radiator Hospital and Grouper, who I ripped off to varying degrees for Scrabble and Picture.
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1.
How many times? Don't know why I'm asking really. The answer will not pull me from this rut That I've been stuck in nearly All of my life. How many times? Sun doesn't even rise For my false dawns any longer. Doesn't want to get knocked down. Doesn't want to come back stronger. How many nights? How many mornings after? I know that it's no good To still behave in ways arising from My adolescent sadness, Which is now a quarter century long. So why can't I change? Can a person even change? How many times? All of my life? How many times?
2.
Elliott 03:22
Me and Elliott after the parade: The two worst things that god ever made. But I'm still here in depressive phase. There's no money to clean the streets these days. Is it real How I feel? I must be able to think myself right. Just a little more will and a little more fight. But thoughts have never been my friends, So it's hard to see how they'll serve my ends This time. I'm fine. Because you've got to be fine. I've fucked my teeth and I've fucked my gut And those two things are real enough. There is no choice but to keep on keeping on Even though I'd rather be sleeping. So I'd better keep on with taking the pills And smoking the weed to manage my ills. When the band's packed up and the singer's gone, It's only you who's keeping the lights on.
3.
Bird 03:26
Little bird flew up to the sky. Turned out it was not the day to die. So convinced I felt you leave. Right then I began to grieve. Now the little bird pecks at the floor. I'm glad, but I'm braced for what's in store. Knowing every feeling that I'll feel When the little bird flies off for real. You made me a good son. And I thank you, Because sometimes that is all I have to cling to.
4.
Clearly 04:06
If you boiled me down what would be left In that concentrated human mess? What is the single, central thing? Maybe smoking weed or riding bikes, Or some weird music that I like. These are all ideas that I could bring. But really, while these are obsessions, There is no question That it is you. So clearly, when my life is condensed, I only make sense As one of two. You're way too big for one small song, But so many little things go on That make me smile when they come to mind: Texi kebab; satsuma swap; Clamistan when we are hot. It's in this silliness I find Some meaning; a reason to be here. To persevere When I've had enough. So maybe you could make a zine About what's between the two of us. Because clearly, when my life is condensed, I only make sense On the bath bus.
5.
Art 03:25
Art is the things that we made for ourselves. New in the world 'cos of us, Our ideas, our effort. Knock down the white walls and re-write the plaques Using language that's simple, Not language that lacks any effort To include, to explain, to welcome. Sound waves and forms mediated by minds. If there is merit, that's for you to decide. If it moves you, then it's good. Thank you for being the only one listening.
6.
Confidence 03:59
I wonder if my memory serves me right When I look back. Confident, competent; Can that really be how I began? Taught in school that we were the chosen ones; Cream of the crop. World at our feet, Captains of industry, Ready to rise to the top. With hindsight we were conned. The world we were supposed to lead Is the world that is destroying me. At least I get the irony. Hard to say if all those expectations Mean that I now fear the worst in every situation, Whatever the evidence. Some times bad things come to pass But in my head the sense of dread Engulfs my waning common sense And I catastrophise. Must be perfect before I can criticise. Can't look you in the eyes and ask you to do better, 'Cos I'm always doing worse. Rad Bobbo knows that this is folly, But Bad Robbo's on a jolly with my self-esteem And I don't know when they'll be home. Elegy for former me. I have to hope that I can be A better version of this person. Imagining how life could be. I have to hope that I can me A better version of this person.
7.
Scrabble 02:39
When we were young We were as close as could be With twelve years between us. You still noticed me. Even when we grew And went our separate ways, We'd still meet for football In our single days. It'd be good to talk. Ask you how you feel about the life you've led. Or ask you want you think about my life instead. Or talk about our parents 'cos we never did Except that time I asked about dad And you shouted at me. I said something bad, But I don't know what, Because in recent times We don't speak so much. We lead our separate lives. It's funny though, How we communicate On a Scrabble board With words that don't relate (in any conscious way) To what we think or how we feel; our hopes and fears. But in their whispered subtext, meaning's loud and clear. Friends will come and go but there's a bond we share. Don't let's lose touch When mum is gone. I'll forfeit my turn If we carry on.
8.
Picture 02:58
When I feel the greyness coming on I question even that. Do I just tell myself I'm wrong? Self-sabotaging act. At times when I'm at my worst I think of a picture of a little boy Before things took their toll. I do my best to remember That I may not be him, but he is me. My thoughts and actions circle on themselves. Every day ends like the last. So I've no choice but to work hard on myself, But it's tiring doing your best. At times when I'm at my worst I think of a picture of a little boy Before things took their toll. I do my best to remember That I may not be him, but he is me.
9.
If you're fighting a battle with yourself, Surely logic dictates that you must also be a winner. But I am definitely just a fucking loser. Thinking about what I'm having next Before I've even finished dinner. I'm broken. Fuck.

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released November 11, 2023

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Beigelord Bristol, UK

Home-recorded learner guitar from the only food group that matters.

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