talking

by 9 Swords

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about

These are live, lo-fi versions of the songs on Sleeping.

Tracks 2, 4, and 7 recorded in Middlebury, VT, June 17th
Tracks 1 and 5 recorded at The Shop in Worcester, MA, June 11th
Track 6 recorded by Eli at Fitness in Brooklyn, NY, May 30th
Track 3 recorded in Hadley, NY

credits

released July 22, 2013

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about

9 Swords Providence, Rhode Island

9 Swords has been

Marlon Battad - composition, guitar, piano, percussion, vocals

with (at various times)

North Star - glockenspiel, percussion, vocals
Lex Lambert - upright bass, vocals
Robert Levin - accordion, glockenspiel
Walter Prettyman - violin
Sal Geloso - vocals
Eli - vocals

and honorable mention to
Heather Fisch - clarinet, accordion, ukulele, vocals
... more

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Track Name: Silver and Gold (live)
Nine swords've been sleepin' o'er my head,
ten stones weighing me down in bed.
Eyes, fiery eyes watching me in my sleep,
soft, gentle hands've been burying me long and deep,

but I've been dreaming of somewhere that I can call my own,
and I'm done sleeping in a bed as cold as silver and gold.

There will be one place you have to leave for every place you wanna go.
There might be one face you'd have to grieve for all the hundreds you might know.
Track Name: Dead Bird (live)
I am dumb, I'm condemned, I'm the beast in its den,
the enemy waiting to die.
As they wept and they knelt to the steel at his belt,
he lifted up his fingers while the blood had barely dried
and he cried, "Ave Maria."

He put his words on my tongue, his prints on my thumb,
his judgment on the copper of my face.
Know him worst, know him best, know him deep in my chest
where I whimper for that hunger that the pastor hides away.
He cries, "Ave Maria."

Go away blackbird, I'll sing my own song.
Go away dead bird, it's my tomb, my tune,
my lips, my lungs,

kiss the Earth's warm feet
where we all sleep.
Track Name: Sand and Water (practice)
Deep in their homes people creak into bed,
dragging their hearts behind them,
sleeping in holes dug by shivering hands,
leaving their claws inside them,

and they wonder, "Will I be coming back as sand getting stuck in the small ruptures of your skin?"
"Will I be coming back as water falling through your faults, flowing out and in?"
"Will I be coming back a hungry whisper rushing through the wrinkles in your head?"
"Will I be coming back a hardened memory ground in your sleep into sand?"

Slumber with those broken mirrors,
small for now and small forever.
Sand and water, just like children,
none forgotten, none forgiven.
Track Name: Whiskers (live)
Palm frond, thistle, chrysanthemum, propped upon
crane's legs, and ankles like bamboo.
A dagger balanced on its tip, sharp eyes, sharp nose, sharp lips upon
wind-carved, sun-bleached stone.

Some dreams start as whispers, if you listen too much
they'll turn into pictures that turn into touch,
and some dreams don't.

Some love it's so brittle it'll make you afraid,
it will turn into guilt which turns into hate,
and some love won't.
Track Name: Hold the Throne (live)
You baby, you poor little baby,
sad little monster, sick little wretch,
tell me, what have they done now?
What have they broken? What have they said?
Well surely your suitors are lined up,
all fucked up and fired up to listen to you,
and surely they love you,
and even if they don't, you know someone else do.

Tell me, who is in charge here?
I'd like to meet them. I need to know.
Tell me, who says they hold the throne?
I'll hold my own.

Well surely those jackals are lined up,
all come for a bite of that secret you keep.
And surely they'd never despise you,
so wrap them around you
and go back to sleep.
Track Name: Grandmother's Waltz (butt version)
You can't drown those demons in that ocean blue.
You can't run from your lovers: you'll take them with you
wherever you go. Little man, little boy, come home.
Your mother will wait 'til her hair turns grey.
Your father will pray across that open road
wherever you go, "Little boy, my child, come home."
Track Name: Silver and Gold (live take 2)
Nine swords've been sleepin' o'er my head,
ten stones weighing me down in bed.
Eyes, fiery eyes, watching me in my sleep.
Soft gentle hands've been burying me long and deep,

but I've been dreaming of somewhere that I might call my own,
and I'm done sleeping in a bed as cold as silver and gold.

There will be one place you have to leave for every place you want to go.
There might be one face you'd have to grieve for all the hundreds you might know.