Bowler Hat Soup

by Kiran Leonard

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1.
01:51
2.
3.
03:25
4.
01:29
5.
01:10
6.
06:39
7.
07:06
8.
02:31
9.
10.
11.
01:33
12.
13.
14.
02:06
15.
16.
04:50

about

#1---

this is the first proper 'record of songs' i made, recorded between summer 2010 and november 2011, released digitally in january 2012, then re-mixed and mastered by my brother and lovingly issued on record by hand of glory in november 2013. many thanks are due to mary and will for putting undue faith in this record and my nonsense at an early age,so god bless you for that. the songs are like primitive baroque messes, with lots of vague impressionistic lyrics about strong and unarticulated desires, drinking in sodden parks, and the brass band cultures of northern england. south pennine magical realism. my drumming is out of pocket and my voice is about half an octave higher. a real blast!!

credits

released November 13, 2013

kiran - acoustic guitar, banjo, bass guitar, bongo, cajon, cittern, drum kit, electric guitar (w/ screwdriver, plectrum + fingers), field recordings, grill, hand claps, mandolin, melodica, pepper shaker, piano, programming, radiator, radio, reed organ, rice, synthesiser, toms, ukelele, voice, vsts, wall, wurlitzer electric piano, all writing + arranging

seth - euphonium (6-8, 10 12)
amanda - violin (2, 7)
benedict - vocals (10)
harriet - vocals (15)

recorded + produced by kiran, jun 10-oct 11, in saddleworth, uk. piano on tracks 7, 8, 10, 11 + 12 recorded at the house of nicholas and marie-christine on edgerton road. cover art by kelly adams.

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about

Kiran Leonard Manchester, UK

FIRST TWELVE RECORDS

from saddleworth, uk ; songs writes pruelewarne.tumblr.com

al albums put in chronological order w basic descriptions of their contents, #12-1

(2012-18)
... more

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Track Name: Dear Lincoln
out in the dark nietzsche walks among the parishes
and chewing his bones, anxious, melts away and vanishes and
tabula slate-- hoo-ray-- praying for the bodies

to assemble away, pave a new way,
combat the day--bula ray,
oh, tahoo lay--conjure the wave;
what he says, murderer's play

dear lincoln: i write, consciously and terribly, for
when will the dead remain? the walls of coffin beds begin
to topple with flames--scream names--simply theorising

that away and away, paves a new way
combat for they--a new day--oh,
taboo ray, comfort insane,
what he says, out of the brain-

dear lincoln dear lincoln
dear lincoln dear lincoln
why don't you call? why don't you care?
dear lincoln dear lincoln

dear lincoln i cry canvasing analogies
and waiting a leitmotif (nietzsche claps a melody)
and herbal attains--no gain--throbbing like the viruses

that sends it away, straight to the day--
add it to they, taha ray, where the stones lie
tap the flesh of the sane, we are a game

and out of the water and into the crevices of suits
breaks the armoury of the bumblebee

and straight
in
through
an
o-
-pen
door
way
Track Name: Brunswick Street
a cold winter brawl. the fog masquerades these sins;
it's a beautiful thing, full of eyes set alight
a thousand all-seeing rings

on a summer marquee, there's art on its street
moves me in the strangest of ways;
tired rope descends where the kilda lane lays

on brunswick street: that's where the deadbeats meet
that's where the deadbeats meet
where all the cool beat sleep

blind in the sun, but i hear you run with an old worn
vinyl in your hand, though i should have known
as we knew you would go
columns and rows. i hear the prose of a lost man,
i believe he's playing guitar. he speaks
with hoarse experience, like he knows who we are

on brunswick street, that's where the deadbeats meet
that's where the cool beats sleep
where all the paupers weep

and this isn't mystery,
this isn't mystery;
you wanted change, all you got
was a dent in your identity
and your shellac top

on brunswick street
that's where the deadbeats meet
Track Name: Port-Ainé
i was born in the shadow of the workers of the saladman's factory
and i don't know how to dance and i never really learnt how to ski
if only you could know a mistake is still a melody

and deep into the mangroves, where the napalm folk and all the little creatures dwell,
you can climb into the deepest caves and cast away your darkest trails
i shan't forget, but i still wish you well

and though your thoughts are grim
a curse is still a hymn
what's a chalice if you're only whispering

and slip behind the tigers and surrender and approach upon a happy place
the moaning of the masses will descend into an uproar of infinite grace,
everything you ever worried for is only empty space

and what's use of silence when you're entering the dark into an endless war,
open wounds and firecrackers that spin into the sky just so cause they can soar,
who knows, maybe then we'll want you more

and though your thoughts are grim
a curse is still a hymn
so sink into your mind
just to pass the time
Track Name: Whisky Bath
drown your sorrows in whisky
and fill yourself with cheer
drown your sorrows in whisky
while your wife's at the galleria
there ain't no painkiller comparable
to a good old dose of ethanol
so drown your sorrows in whisky
and forget that you exist
Track Name: Sea of Eyes
wallowing in the mud, down in the dark
fumbles a boy and his harlot
the torch of the night wails his plan;
the animals raised their stained ballots

i love the trees and they love me
we'll dig our holes in harmony

i wanna go back to the past where you had
no perch to howl from
i wonder if you can see me
circulating an empty harbour

i love your eyes, do they love me?
i'll never know now you're lost at sea
no, i'll never know now you're lost at sea
Track Name: Smilin' Morn
wilberry tour, on monterey moor,
hoping for something real to come and take them away.
the walls are hollowed thin
some were petrified; some joyous as a sin

cast back your fragile minds to your liquid induction
and fear not considering forefathers of consumption
you only think you're doomed because you are arranged so
a dark epiphany, just a stumble from a halo

and it sets like glue
and you're knelt at a church pew
and aroused from the wings, a plethora of strings,
plucked gently by the wind that carries it
and you're half-awake, so they give you a shake,
double-take to remember your reasons for this

a bowl of social politics, a bottle full of hope to see you well
out in the night it's so confused; the love you've found has got no place to dwell

i just wanna see your eyes waking up to smilin morn
i just wanna see your eyes waking up to smilin morn

there you are an idle slump, dust has formed around your bare knees
the holy walls begin to slip to give you chance to compose and release
well your head sits back with a mind numbing bank of confusion
blowing away, coming undone
and out pours the sores, and what seemed malignant before
turn their crinkled necks to face the sun
and the damage is done, now make you some fun,
and scream like your lungs may explode from the thrill of the storm
and your coveted lies won't leave tears in your eyes
as your rested self wakes to smilin' morn
Track Name: Drysdale
when the plane touched the ground, you were there to greet us,
harbouring thoughts and presumptions to match our pictures.
we had a vague idea you sounded different long distance;
that you lived in a town as flat as the sea.
i said that i'd never seen the moon such a beautiful colour
til your mother distilled it, citing the bright lights.
you told me to be afraid
such was the way children played

we laughed in the back of the car, you, me and my sister
and during one routine you made my nose bleed
you sort of apologised
but i don't recall having cried

and i said to the land, i'm not gonna fall to exposure
i'll take all the blame, i'm not gonna fault my composure
Track Name: Wild Walks
hit the gin, my man
put the pill in hand and subdue

was a boy some merry years ago, reaping the taunts of the sheep,
it was a happy thing when the latest faux pas leaked
oh, the glaze that wept through the day, covering the souls in the deep,
it was a mystery, all the wars made them shriek

hit the gin, my man
for the day come round
put the pill in hand and subdue
wild walks these streets

what a breeze, those hazy memories, the youthful pedants of the day,
how we contemplate ourselves, those bright faces lost in the mist
revel in glee, the hypocrisy, embracing those we kept at bay
for when you're a little child your conscience is clean as the wrist

hit the gin my man
for the day come round
put the pill in hand and subdue
wild walks these streets
Track Name: There's No Future in Us
view this through the large rectangular
now you're part of the happy breed
caught up in the tugs of your new romance
as dull as the life you lead

cause i think you spend too much time a-fidgetin
on the buttonings; where's the rings? and those
pretty things that the magazines promised me?
i'll be honest, see: you're not loving me
there's no future in us-

smile down at your new found life partner
performing the public lie
six weeks of a happy school courtship
when it ends, will your other half cry?
you know: there's no future in us-
Track Name: Oakland Highball
we deal crabs to be like crabs to pinch like crabs to deal with you
we deal crabs to be like crabs to pinch like crabs to deal with you

late on a coal black night
i clutched my torso tight
i saw a crippling light
i fell to heaven's might
i felt the alien's grip;
the breeze began to drip,
and time began to slip
they brought me to a ship

and up and away, show day, circuses and animals
a wedding of the planets; lincoln at the altar and i
swear to the stars, my home's a land i do not recognise

i look at the glass, poised on my lap:
l'eau de la vie, i indulge; the aliens plead
look in the water below: what you see?

local pride exaggerated
lonely towns inebriated
(weary are noises)
damp grey lots and ditch molasses
beauty spots and broken glasses
praying for silence

so jump from the brawl, escape from it all,
now that's what i'd call
an oakland highball
Track Name: Bora Bora
livestock is killing me
wonder there i will be
in 2070?
bora bora

no time to theorise
i now must realise
i must not socialise
in bora bora

i must sit and unwind
i remember city folk, so i must find
a way to wash those shits out of my mind
in bora bora

word from far away gives me a treat
disease has come to wash them from the steets
while i sit here in the blazing heat

[...]

waking up is the hardest part
i wish i had a more forgiving heart
but how i long to be rid of society's lot
i must go to bora bora
Track Name: the Battle of Hoopla Bay
at the battle of bay, generals plotted their ways,
funeral organs were presented with the beautiful bellowed displays.
to my relief, you told me that i didn't know how to shoot,
but the way that i held my rifle was cute
and you never really believed in fair play, did you

i was alone but i wasn't terrified
maybe disturbed, but not really petrified,
yet if you an find me a remedy, cure me

they blew us apart!
the only refuge in the drama
was a farmer with a generous heart
Track Name: Geraldo's Farm
world argument in the afternoon
i see it rise, i see it bloom
men with weapons line the avenues;
the elephants have took the room

and it gets so hot that you can't lift a limb
weighed down by events that reveal when all hope starts to dim.
and it gets so cold when the lights are all out
and the loops in our head are the radio'd military spouts

we must find a shelter from combat instead
of a shot to the neck or a shot to the head...
Track Name: Knots
eat in crumbs. bicker less.
charade sensibly: your hearing is important.

the greatest thing i ever saw
was locked within the cage of war
suspended are my memories
the fire that filled the cemeteries
(another day...)
Track Name: Hoopla Reprise
i remember our beds that we left on their own
for the old broken woods that we used to call home
and it's like smouldering into dust
when i find love

we collected the leaves just to throw them around
and we'd dust pirouette off the ground
and it's like burning in the blue
when i find you

i was alone, but i wasn't terrified
maybe disturbed not but really petrified
but if you can find me a remedy, cure me
Track Name: A Purpose
i remember her docking,
or at least what she told me.
the mystery of origin.
a bustling city,
bridges and shipyards,
and infidel lovers

and my father was
a railway worker
carved from the mountain
and cross-country bike rides
to see my aunt mary
no blood relation

and all alone
drinking pop in the sitting room

now that i'm older
what will i believe in?
a futureless nightmare
and i have a doctor,
but he doesn't know me.
i saw youths take substance,
smashing our shelters
a lost generation

and how will they atone
for the bodies that they left alone?

i used to hear my records
only through premium speakers.
i'd walk around upright
with a purpose

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