Get all 46 fiffdimension releases available on Bandcamp and save 25%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Poems & Lyrics (in the Scotch dialect) (1856), Quietism (2024), Electric (yang) / Acoustic (yin) - 2CD compilation 1998-2023, electric (yang), acoustic (yin), Live 2023, Gamelan Dimensi Kelima (Indonesia, 2014), Elevate (2023), and 38 more.
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MY native land, my native land, To sing thy praise I’ll try, For I nae ither garland have Around thy brow to tie. I winna sing of wars you’ve seen, Nor blood once on you shed; I winna sing the noble deeds Your gallant sons once did.
But I will of your mountains sing, Your caverns, and your glens; Where Solitude in all his pomp In mighty grandeur reigns. And I will of your valleys sing, And heathy knowes so fair, For beauty in her gayest charms Is ever lingering there.
That there are fairer lands on earth, I readin agree; But what are all those fairy elimes, Sweet home, compar’d with thee 2 Then, wheresoe’er I chance to stray, Or wheresoe’er I roam; I’ll ever long and wish for thee, My dear lov’d Scottish home.
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THE sweet breath of summer blows fresh o’er each plain,
The woods have resumed their lost grandeur again;
The groves with the notes of the blackbird are ringing,
By fountain and streamlet the wild flowers are springing.
And the breath of the heather bell sweetens the breeze,
And the old stormy ocean lies slumbering in peace;
And the wild bees are humming around the wild flowers,
Afar above earth the lark proudly soars;
The bleat of the lamb on the moss-cover’d hill,
The sound of the shepherd’s pipe jocund and shrill,
All tell in a language most striking and plain,
T hat summer, fair summer, is reigning again,
The old face of nature her smiles has put on,
And the blustery appearance of winter has flown.
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HERE’S a health to my cronies where’er they reside, Whether this side or that o’ yon big rowin’ tide ; I care na what country or kingdom they claim, Be they English or Irish to me it’s the same, Gif their hearts to a glass o’ gude whisky incline, I instantly class them as “Cronies o’ mine.”
Awa wi’ yon nabob purse-proud o’ his gear, Neither he nor his wealth hae charms for us here; Awa wi’ yon fop wi’ his clear headed cane, A bit trip through the warld, it’s use may explain; But welcome my cronies wherever ye be, To join in this gude reekin’ bumper wi’ me.
A fig for the wealth that this warld can gie, We naething brought here, sae we’ve naething to lea; The farmer wi’ ousen an’ acres galore, Has his crosses just now, an’ may sune count on more; Then come here, my cronies, let’s kick awa care, As lang’s we’ve a groat or a shilling to spare.
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AULD Satan , when ye first gae through Your regions dark and awful , A sma ' bit favour I would crave , Gif ye but think it lawful .
Gie my respects to Souter Will , The first time ye forgather ; And tell him that I'm wae to think Him lost for a ’ thegither .
For ministers and others say He straught to you was taken ; ' Cause he the creed o ' Scotland's kirk Had mony a day forsaken .
Gif that be true , as it may be , Though faith I'm misbelieving , You ne'er met wi ' a slier coof , Since ye took to deceiving
. But use him well , and gif ye can , Oh gie ' im a bit promotion ; O ' a ' your buts and a ' your bens He ' shortly hae a notion .
But keep him aye beneath your thumb , And work him smooth and sweetly ; Or o'er your head he'll tak your trade , And dam your luck completely ,
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Dave Edwards - electric guitar, loop pedal, bass, midi
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I SING of the land where in youth I have rambled, I sing of her heroes who long, long have gone; And I sing of her steep crags where of t I have scrambled, When dull pining cares to me were unknown,
How oft I have roamed o’er her blue misty mountains, And cull’d her wild cowslips and heather bells fair; And lightly I’ve stroll’d by her clear winding fountains, Inhaling with rapture the sweet summer air.
How oft I have gazed on the sky lark ascending, To pour forth her praise at the dawn of the day ; While dewy and lovely the pine boughs were bending, Attired in the greenest of nature’s array.
How oft in the evening I’ve seen with emotion The mountain kids sporting when Phoebus retires To glad other regions concealed by the ocean; But away, what can rival the land of my sires?
Green spot of my heart, the brightest the fairest, Thrice sacred the memory for ever of you; Sweet haunts of my childhood, to me ever dearest, Though now with a tear I must bid you adieu.
Thus, like to the miser who clings to his riches, I cling to the land of the thistle and pine; Her snow-cbver’d hills my soul so bewitches, Oh! would but the past with its pleasures were mine.
But, alas! those loved scenes I must leave now to others, For fate has decreed that I shall not remain ; So adieu to the land of my youth and my fathers, To seek for a home o’er the wild foaming main.
But, still I will think on a mother’s caresses, When far o’er the blue sea I waft with the gale; I And still I will cherish a father’s advices, Who pledged me his blessing adown the green vale.
But away, ye dull thoughts, for I cannot endure you, Go, war with another and leave me alone ; For the fathomless ocean I’m' destined to brave now, So blow fair ye breezes and let me be gone.
Then adieu to the land of my youth, Farewell to her crags, steep and hoary ; Farewell to the scenes of my birth, And adieu to the land of my glory.
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The dying monarch raised his head And shook his hand , and wildly said , Ah , what is this , what's this I feel ? Ye Satraps bow the knee and tell What hand is this that does me bind , What weight is this that does me grind ; Some mightier arm than man's is here , I see and feel a keener spear . Ah , there again , I feel the dart Pierce with a venom to my heart ; It seems to grapple with my breath , Sure this must be the hand of Death . What's all my deeds of daring fame , Compared with this unequal game . I've thrown aside the bolts of war , I've rushed against the naked spear , I've conquered kings , empires o'erthrown , I've gathered laurels and renown ; But what do all these deeds avail , When verging on the brink of Hell ? Though nobles stoop and princes bow , What's their obedience to me now ?
Though thousands at my high command , Would each display a gleaming brand , And rush with madness on the foe , And hurl him to the shades below , Yet , all their bravery , all their might , Their in the bloody fight Would feel convulsed , would turn aside , Before death's sharp unsheathed blade . Though richest fruit my table decks , Though smiling plenty on me becks , Though luxury's unbridled steed Revels and riots round my bed , Though gayest garbs and textures fine Around my fever'd head entwine , Though all my vassals strive to please , Nought can this tortured spirit ease . Tell me , ye menials , tell we where I might a peaceful moment share ; Is it in the cottar's shed ? Is it on the peasant's bed ? If so , I'd willingly retire To some lone hut , and there expire . But thoughts like these are wild and vain , I hear Death rattling with his chain ; I must depart , I hear the call , I must forsake each gilded hall .
But , oh ! tis terrible to die , I fain would , but I cannot fly ; I fain would wrench from Death that brand He waves triumphant in his hand ; But , ah ! ' tis useless , now I feel His pointed weapon , fare - thee - well .
The monarch ceased , the courtier train Shook , muttered , gazed , and shook again ; They saw life's dying embers fade , They felt the sting of horror's blade . Before them lay a lifeless form , Which once had life with passions warm ; The hand was stiff , which oft had reined The war horse , and the prisoner chained . A lifeless lump of senseless clay The stern despotic MONARCH lay .
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James Robinson - vocal & lyrics
Dave Edwards - bass
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Classical Rain Bucket
01:41
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Oscar - Oscar's Blues
01:28
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By my faith , sirs , this canna lang dee , I'll hae to gie o'er and repent ; I've been sax weeks an ' mair on the gee . Till my very internals are rent .
Now , Landlord , ye'll just bring ae bottle , Ae bottle an ' I'll be content ; And to - morrow I'll join the teetottle , And in sackcloth and ashes repent .
My finances hae now fa'en so low , That I scarce hae a shilling to spare ; And my dudds are but just so an ' so , A sma ' thing the warse o ' the wear .
My friens are a praying and preaching , And bidding me turn and grow wise ; And yet a ' their wonderful teaching Seems but for the sake o ' advice .
Gif I ask ane's assistance in speaking , Man , how he'll blether and puff ; But if twa three bright Geordies I'm seeking , He'll shortly gae aff i ' the huff .
I admit that my conduct's been bad , But what can a poor body do ; Its surely nae use being sad , When ane can be blythe when he's fou .
There's a set o ' bright callant's ca’ed bards , Wha hae cost me mony a crown ; And yet I aye reap my rewards , When wi ' ane o ' the craft I sit down .
For they are the lads wha can crack ' Bout the kirk , the State , and the nation ; And e'en though I say't , ' tis a fact , They can point out the way to Salvation .
Though they had nae a saxpence but ane , Without e'er a grumble they'd spend it ; And to ease the distress o ' a frien ' , The coat aff their back they would lend it .
Yet in duty I'm bound to admit , That their follies are mair than they should be ; But then , their bright flashes o’wit Mak their follies thought less o ' than would be .
Then farewell , ye Knights o ' Parnassus , For a time I your haunts måun forsake , To dwell amang dunces and asses , Wha scarce can a joke gie nor take .
Then , Landlord , ye'll bring me a bottle , And for ance I'll gie care a bit kick ; And to - morrow I'll join the teetottle , And till’t like a bur I will stick
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Sakura sakura
yayoi no sora wa
mi-watasu kagiri
Featherston, Featherston
Cherry blossoms in the Spring
(and kowhai too)
Cidade da pena, cidade da pena
Flores de cerejeira na primavera
Taoni vutina, taoni vutina
Vuavuai vinaka ena vulaitubutubu
Paetumokai, Paetumokai
Pua pua i te kōanga
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O Henry, falling leaves & branches talk a worried sad refrain,
your eyes half tilt, your brain half mast
to tie the fond anonymous bond beyond your aching shelter lying walls
that fall to fall & raise the days, museum haze
O Henry for the season, falling autumn rains reigns its claim to fame,
your head a handsome sleeping sound,
your ship not sleeping in the sand when run aground, you stall tall story disco library, white with dust & wiped & fussed;
open even over time does not mind to go in blind
O Henry, unforeseen your odds are even now to me
I don't see how you never lied, you never cried;
your melancholic putrefaction changed its dirt & you were left unhurt -
& you went waltzing through the door, to be O Henry ending nevermore,
nevermore
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fiffdimension Featherston, New Zealand
Outsider music from Aotearoa NZ and beyond, by Dave Edwards and collaborators (from 1856 to 2024).
Spans acoustic & electric noise, rock, folk, spoken word, postpunk, free jazz, gamelan, lo fi, electronica, & ethnomusicology.
fiffdimension recommends:
Waiting for the Drummer
by dAdApApA
The mutant cousin of 'The Marion Flow' - also produced by Paul Winstanley - http://fiffdimension.com/tag/paul-winstanley - at the same sessions but with very different results.
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hill road in winter
by the troubled times
First new release of 2023, psych-rock trio from Masterton, NZ, with Antony Milton and David Heath
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Nat da Hatt collaborated on https://fiffdimension.bandcamp.com/album/neon-train-landscapes and brought a funky psychedelic guitar groove to our sound - here's his solo masterpiece.
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Rhythmic post-punk from Horseface with a pop-forward sense of melody and the open-ended expressionistic impulses of DIY.
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featured on Bandcamp Radio Dec 17, 2013
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From reflective and celestial to exhilarating and incessant, Mr Ripper proves his remixes are as fun as his solo tunes.
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