Snippets from the mind of an American hero. Random observations about life, love, fishing, dementia, music, sports, and yodeling. General strangeness. Intellectual badassery.
My baby sleeps in blue
Warm and naked, pale and pretty
I feel the seventh wave
Of the ocean in the motion
I feel a brand new sickness
Coming over me like a storm
Used to feel so good beside her
There next to her my arm around her
She fell like flowers
Petals were carried out on my old wind
Landed down in the center
Of this lonely white grip of winter
She brought these gifts of love
I carried down in my pocket
I set them on my shelves
And on the nightstand by my bed
She sleeps and won’t come back again
From pretty dreams that keep her
She sleeps and won’t come back again
From pretty dreams that keep her
My baby won’t come back again
I feel so lost without her
I hear your magic voice
On the analogue of this machine
I hear the smoothest talk
With the coolest transparent star field
Will there be any danger
If our talk is under this roof?
And can you know a stranger
So quickly under this moon?
So go away, come back again
I’ll shut you out, I’ll pull you in
Don’t go away, come back again
I feel so lost
She sleeps in royal blue
And room down past the big dry desert
The sense of music there
And hope reaches you
And gets you past the motions
Of goodbyes
And pulls the deepest winter
Out of this lonely white crippled winter
She sleeps and won’t come back again
From pretty dreams that keep her
My baby won’t come back again
I am so lost without her
So go away, come back again
I shut you out, I pull you in
Don’t go away, come back again
I feel so lost
After two days of mainstream tracks, we’re delving back into relative obscurity today on Dances with Bass Radio. The Red House Painters were one of the first bands I discovered once I started getting into indie artists back in the late 1990s. Music label 4AD was known for producing a bevy of slowcore/shoegaze artists, such as RHP.
Mark Kozelek’s droll, disaffected voice is a perfect accompaniment to the melody, which slowly builds from quietly acoustic to growling electric. Give this one a spin and listen as each instrument is added, building musical intensity while Kozelek’s voice remains consistently dry. It works. Trust me.
If you like RHP, check out the rest of their catalog. They produce several solid albums, before disbanding. Along the way, they also produced a few, um, interesting cover songs, including a droll version of Ace Frehley’s Shock Me, and The Cars’ All Mixed Up.
