During the winter of 2008, I decided that I wanted to write a sort of concept album. All my heroes had; Ray Davies, the Beatles etc
I didn't really have a concept in mind however, but persevered with the idea and a whole bunch of new songs were born in my small studio in Eastbourne, the Boundary House.
As always for me, it's about getting the songs down in demo form (mainly as I'm a lousy engineer, only interested in concreting the composition), always with a view to recording them properly at some point in the future. So...only the demo's here, as none went any further.
The first to arrive was Born in an Odd Year (day, month), which I had been. Otherwise the song is about change, uncertainty and decay.
There is a shorter version without the In(dian)fluenced beginning, but the sitar piece, to me, offers timelessness and peace.
BORN IN AN ODD YEAR
Who are you?
What is your life story going to be?
Dropped on your head
and exposed by the age of three.
Hung out to dry
in this system called 'carry on',
never quite sure
just which side of the tracks you're from.
I was born in an odd year,
I'll die in an even one.
What are you?
Have you been modified thoroughly?
Life in the K's
gives us time for recovery.
With silicone breasts
and your Johnson enhanced,
it's tailor made meat
on a credit advance.
I was born in an odd month,
I'll die in an even one.
How are you?
Where do you stand with morality?
Is over indulgence
not quite what it used to be.
What once had appeal
and the style of before
has been kicked up the ass
and shown the door.
I was born in an odd year,
I'll die in an even one.
(c) Carlton McRae, 2008
A STONE'S THROW AWAY
Should I sing for you, like we used to do.
One got lost back then, now we're back again.
A stone's throw away.
Recipes arrived, mostly in the mind.
Where dreams can oft be found, so get your head around...
it's a stone's throw away.
Should I sing for you like we used to do?
(c) Carlton McRae, 2008
EVERYDAY WAS SUNDAY
I wish everyday was Sunday.
Learn to take me as I am.
I wish everyday was Sunday
and I'm taking all I can.
I wish everyday was Sunday.
No more lonely in the night.
I wish everyday was Sunday
and the rest is out of sight.
I wish everyday was Sunday,
seven days of every week
and I wish it never to be Monday.
There's nothing there I need to seek.
I wish everyday was Sunday.
Never leave my bed.
(C) Carlton McRae, 2008
OLD JACK SENSIBLE
I could never be Ol' Jack Sensible,
I'd forget to pay my power bill.
Never check on my bank statements,
I'd forget to make my mortgage payments.
Making money in the first degree,
never really occurred to me.
I make a living from film and song
and whatever the hell else comes along.
I could never be Michael Finnegan,
I only have the clothes I live within.
I like to call it my own fashion
and I love my life with a passion.
They're going to brand me living art...
when they find a place to start.
Until then I'll keep keeping on
with whatever the hell else comes along.
I could never be Ron Aristocrat.
If it don't fit then I don't wear the hat.
There's no wedge in my back pocket.
I'm altogether plugged into the wrong socket.
The hustle, bustle of city life
is going to cause me undue strife.
I like things the way they are,
me, the truth and my guitar.
I could never be Bob Society,
as I need to leave by ten to three.
I don't know just what else I'm to do,
'cept to say; "It's not all about you..."
Some of us slip through the cracks,
there's no point trying to get us back,
it's not really the thing to do.
Now, I'm going to play my whole range just for you!
(C) Carlton McRae, 2008
PRIVATE BEACH
For twenty years a winter song
and the years have come and gone.
I still love the August skies.
There's still plenty in my head
and I 'spose I might have said;
"Follow summer," no surprise.
Private Beach is in disguise.
They tried to swat them all away,
but they're coming here to stay.
In the end, well, who knows why?
I guess we reap what we create,
that's all part of the debate
and the rest is gleaned with lies.
Private Beach is full of flies.
(c) Carlton McRae, 2008
