CD of the album 'in amber' in gatefold cardboard slipcase, featuring the beautiful photography of Alyssa Nilsen
Includes unlimited streaming of in amber
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
ships out within 3 days
£8.50GBPor more
Record/Vinyl + Digital Album
'in amber' on heavyweight vinyl in a gatefold sleeve, with the beautiful photographs by Alyssa Nilsen and all the accompanying prose. This is the album as it was meant to be presented!
Includes unlimited streaming of in amber
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
ships out within 3 days
£10GBPor more
about
Dear Jeremy Hunt,
I’m a single mother of two who’s trying to do my best for my kids, but I also think that the elderly deserve comfort and care in their twilight. I work very hard, but of course if I care I have to because, on the one hand, the cuts have reduced our staffing levels to something that a skeleton would consider chubby, and on the other consequential hand, the pressures mean my colleagues have been dropping like flies with illness, both physical and stress-related mental. Those of us that remain have no spare capacity to pick up the slack, but picked up it must be, so evenings and weekends with my children suffer.
It’s been like this a while, and I haven’t thought to complain, except to loved ones who get it in the neck night after night. But lately, while a group of already rich people who caused an economic crisis have been bailed out with amounts of money that have more digits than the screen of my calculator, I’ve been called lazy and undeserving, presumably to justify the fact that my pay hasn’t risen in real terms for a decade. So now I’m writing this.
But really, all the above is irrelevant. It’s not big, or clever, but there was only one thing I really wanted to say to you. Get fucked.
Yours sincerely,
[name redacted]
lyrics
Is that a look? Would you like to preach? Well, go ahead
I’ll be in the next room
Do you have a phone?
I can call someone who gives a fuck
I really couldn’t care.
All the things you take away
But won’t admit them
All that you imagine we should give
And never say a fucking word
All the things you take away
But won’t admit them
All that you’re expecting us to give
And never say a fucking word
Submerged beneath such good intent, *such* high ideals
To give a little back
A nagging tug to those who would rather forget
About the ones who heal
We are the ones who heal
Order, order gets frightening
When values twist and people change
The greedy cobra ferried on the meek
Shoulder, shoulder what’s frightening
Haul the banker’s abandoned load
Don’t you dare reveal your feelings
Starve the funds that make things easy
Send me home at night to cry alone
While I’m praying for a life to call my own
All the things you take away
But won’t admit them
All that you imagine we should give
And never say a fucking word
All the things you take away
But won’t admit them
All that you’re expecting us to give
And never say a fucking word
Three renditions of “Snowflakes in July” explore all aspects of the song’s stunning beauty, including a mind-blowing 17-minute live version. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 15, 2020
