Loose Autumn Moans

by fiffdimension

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about

Semi-acoustic, recorded and mixed entirely on analogue equipment, and originally released on cassette in 2003, Loose Autumn Moans is the fourth album by New Zealander Dave Edwards (aka fiffdimension)

Structurally it mirrors the progression from summer, through autumn, harvest time, the downhill jog of darkening days and the removal of dead layers - and concludes with an extended live version of 'O Henry Ending', performed by The Winter.

credits

released October 9, 2003

tags

license

Track Name: Summer Skin
Moaning cried goodbye for the room of false flowers in sickness
The light from the window a silver on red mass of tears
Just like a factory when you are a tree

Images bent, broken-backed men walking at a crawl
I'm not at all sad
I just cried through the fire
& my eye was once and forever trapped in patterns
Geometry freezing life into tapestry
The rope is cut, and down something falls

This is what the world needs, some nice place to while away the days
Dive into desktops & snorkel away
You're a bullfighting matador, the perfect weapon
James Bond had you over for breakfast & I remember what you said to him:
'this will not last, this will not last, there'll always be room for them & suffering'

('take in poor children to feed' say the 19th century boarding schools, but they secretly eat them)

Paris finds her mocking grace, anger shoulder to the nylon
Time finds her still alone in the car's iron dance

Open ruptured sweetness, and the content was better than this dragon cloud clothing firm minded hand with wives & paper kings all better in crayon
Climbing ivy for the band, translucent stare, the body better than shiny

Shiny hair, faithful pet out in the sun borderline wine
Golden sweet beauty laying promises here in worth of our lives

Ask for it all & it is soon to fall, a season pathetic once then & for all
The summer is captured, but not in these words
Track Name: After the Filmshoot (take 1)
...& just then God comes curling out of the mouth of a Hare Krishna tree singing along thereon with smiling coconuts on bouncing bulbous nose walls, a crackling of thunder, a bending love of nurses' benedictions, sanitised raspberries & a godawful refrain. He shatters feet tapping skulls cracked in holy ghosts, & just then at that moment the priest with his pants down comes cowled in gullibility, flows through the road & is nevermore worshipped. Our rubber band limbs fly tumble apart. Sanitation contours, & the sky opened up into layers of plastic, detaching loose cables from window-lit skull. Halloween candles to light from within. Torture chamber moaned inside nostril contours - beating its wings the newly hatched bird. The jungle cries 'what is this shit?'. Oh we're in the shadows, purple coming down on the right, circles ground into powder, freeform worriedness allowed aloud on the streets. A rubber skull taking off - bing bong hullabaloo - and parents' war on drugs. Elastic cracked in the ceiling. Baby soldiers, paratroopers, bungy jump down & she is metamorphosis. We are widening into outdoors. We are no longer inside but out below stars. A burst of laughter come along exactly 2.1 seconds after punchline delivered. We are all fakes. Someone turns into a corkscrew over on my right. I sit here alone. Team talk ahead, and I turn into favourites. The stomach all sparkles. All there a not chance. Got to escape, all there and not chance. No added sugar. The chorus expands, rising bubbles of tones, leads to a '70s style glam version of a Texas country & western revival. A bit of grease between you & the weather. Devils raid kitchens. She'll be classically lit & modelled in position, I've been ignoring her all night. They talk in tableau. I have ashes in my mouth, but this is purely coincidence. A glance in the right. Biological engineering division calls us into molten swill. Your brain a bowl of porridge, and that's if you're lucky. Do they say that in England? Idiot madman glued to his chair. A mouth with no face. Taking notes throughout the performance. Humans become worms, with a sameness that is frightening. Politics is bad: we knew this already, but now it's confirmed. Collapse into laughter. A cigarette chair from which comes a dictator; everyone in thrall to his conversation. A plastic wooden horse to capture the city -incongruous? Indeed. Expelled all the virtues? You to decide. Just like a snake shedding its skin, I escape from Greek tragedies. It fell away like a casing, my link to the Earth. My face fully wax. Back into dame housing. Meanwhile, he said the word 'om' & immediately felt an amazing sense of wholeness & oneness with the universe & also experienced a terrific bowel movement.
Track Name: Working Like a Fountain in the Slender Morning Chill
Loosening in to a pall of cold fracture,
rivening structure & opening condemned
a veil to repeal from the moon to cause capture
with caffeine-wide eyes & I'm useless to my friends
for city-trained values that hide on the streets
are in for far out & a found metal sign,
plastic melting into the grime
a slide & a roll going down on the way
Weak week ending chiseled
& the night for the ride going down

I said 'you've got to be the best friend that I couldn't lose again'
You had given me the best time; it cut right through the artistry
I had been working like a fountain, in the slender morning chill
My only regret was knowing that we were only half insane

Words can enter & fracture, & heightened reveal
That the language is just like a simile
Trying to write is like Simple Simon going for water in a sieve
'in my bones I lay captured, & in music lies death' he cried, spit flying with the force of bad news
We crumble & break to lie back to the wake
for the awkwardness postures, asleep
The truth ending up the negation of sound
The music gets trapped between ecstasy & the neighbours
He stands & stares, in a screaming silent leash

I said 'you've got to be the best friend that I couldn't lose again'
You had given me the best time; it cut right through the artistry
I had been working like a fountain, in the slender morning chill
My only regret was knowing that we were only half insane
Track Name: Redressing Regression Aggression
1 2 3, 1 2 3

I dissolve into background noise, frequenting carnival bars
smog buried distance, & it made me forgetful,
& my own pen makes me start telling lies

I'm hangin' out with the boys, welcoming rhythmic asides
I'd say 'take home my hand, let us be tragic friends'
but I'd once again forgotten to talk

The house requires a chairman, kind mannered lady; silk wolverine cry

& as to the meeting, the method, the requisite corner, the killing of swarm in its own metal canvas, laugh conserve leisure, open wound & still breathing - from hungover night & then drunken morning under the covers, back into working, swallowed the houses with internet access, sheet metal cutter clasped in his hand

I hate what I used to enjoy, I'm becoming the clown of thorns
I can speak the language, but I can't make it dance
There's a need to recharge my soul

The truth is negated by song; displacing emotional wrong

...so knowing they had to get out of there at some stage - not later but then & now - which was then come & gone, off to the front the side the back that caused air to waken, vent its forth a broken promise kept, come answering gladly against the wall curtain raised adventure happenings under the table, weary weight of curse, distance savour worsen capture said 'somewhere along the line the ice was broken', northern cry release

I find that I'm losing my voice; abstain from mystical sights
The hypocrite sits with his obsessive gifts that will work endless shifts in the shafts of his mind mine
A strange kind of happiness, lacking in joy

Full stop. Count off. Exact refusal tie. Measurement patterns, bringing forth progress, his own unsteady warming, mounting bannister, spiral staircase, it is the world that is hunger; it is hurt, torn & cumbersome; perseverance was mild; silver in platitudes, a red foreign sun asleep in its patterns, slumber was comical, dreams held it open, the sun was improving, we captured that night. Soon there is movement, inside there are people. Consigned them in consecutive autumns, where they had to reveal how the plot has now turned.
Track Name: Mouth of the Caveman
"That's a nice chord innit? A very nice chord."
"I liked it a lot; it was the worst chord I've ever seen."

Leave aside the poet-strangled engineer ear-sprain
nothing get paid for until it gets dark
over the ocean shine down the sun, into the kingdom
where I plan to vent forth unreason, & here I lay guilt

A black claw of diamond cloud perfume dissolves me into background noise; high above the street I sail, dusty mountains, ravens wail; the face crawls, full of seashells & vermin; bring in beauty, it's your duty - I'm too shy to even say hi; we need to enact a paradigm shift, so we get really stoned & we get really pissed; visionaries exchange pleasantaries, cartoon characters sing the blues; the city's blinkered blinking enclose our loud albino progress; out all night for an all-out night, wasted in the wings with baby-food music, I am dirty & mocking & I stumble at chance, I am sly superficial with a sideways glance, grey haired with freedom & information blindness.

The wild running hunger was begged & profound to a hunger of stone-envious wood running progress, mental gnome church gotten home re-gotten captured, re-growing sideburns, a tunnel vision fits, glances that waver; camera pointed at the sun, crappy turntable blasting out beats - & we have questions to ask regarding its value - ahead smiling face prostrated in shower, another drunken figure kneeling abased before toilet & 15-year-old girl passed out on the floor; we took to the t.v with a baseball bat, & went into town with a shopping trolley & liquor... but we never met Elvis, not even that night.
Track Name: The Hurricane Wrangle (a butcher review)
As the great poet Woody Guthrie said, 'this machine kills fascists' - this song has nothing to do with Lord of the Rings, it is entitled 'the Hurricane Wrangle (a butcher review)'... they'd been up one night watching too many Lilian Gish movies, and realised that this was the queen of the silent broad screen

Neon mumble turnaround making you go in naked
as your brain, strangely profound, is coping not to fake it;
the unthinkable happened, with perfect precision,
chains swinging down through the door

The ladies in waiting ungratefully unveiled,
and to for the perfect place of a nun;
loose in the country Antarctic I take,
in no way beating on the same drum

Still not ready for the wedding circus ring -
you're a communist & I'm transcribing your conspiracy;
a barrel-house king was keeping the phrase,
& the man wants her to give him her days

A knowing retort could be praise for our chatter,
& seekingly for the sickly cold old sun;
barren regained into punishment antiques -
you're a blackguard, & I'm a poltroon

Your eyes in fire & are knowingly obscene
& your head winds up sitting in a mausoleum
you were alone in outdated brimstone & fire
& your sins are not seven,
but are knowingly beginned all night

Lying deadly with no comment, the hero bursts upon the scene -
but he tries to leave unnoticed when the opponent takes the queen;
quit in yoke to the power of a runaway car;
equate here & now with desire gets you not very far

You were taken wanderer, there among clouds,
your hand branded names, & it wakes up & smiles;
seek silent groan when you're hollering loud,
& your feet have not walked a thousand miles

A level where beginners with their mutilated faces
can speak & be alone, wherein they're constantly invaders,
& I speak of time & training & of climbing up the levels,
cancel proceedings, waking up in smiles

Each evening I sit at home & complain;
each evening a punishment adored;
each evening & watch the autumn wane;
the best of evenings, growing more & more bored

Your eyes in fire & are knowlingly obscene
& your head winds up sitting in a mausoleum
you were alone in outdated brimstone & fire
& your sins were not seven,
but knowingly begin sometimes

Truth parades its pantheon, & is constantly outdated,
& a man walks the pavement, not thinking he will make it;
the judgement of justice thinking suspicious;
if he thinks he ties me up he will never admit it

Soon the list of time outdates the reason why it's born,
awkwardly chained to reason & malice,
a time for the teasing makes a banned awful season
who eats up unthinkable words retaining matches

Jeffrey fucked up, but he keeps on going strong;
inwardly creeping in, gleefully unknown;
I think of sarcasm, & it seemed so profound
to be stylishly & gracefully bound

Soon the list of time outdates the reason why it's born,
awkwardly chained to reason & malice;
you await the reason, & for a while retain
the memory of the crown of thorns

Your eyes in panic & in pleasure are obscene
while your head winds up sitting in the movie screen;
you were alone in back-dated billowing doubt,
& your sins are not seven
but are knowingly outstretched once more

Stop it! Enough already! This is a jazz-poetry show, man! So a little less of the jazz, & more of the poetry...
Track Name: Sleep/Grease
Sleep grease crack attack, slime-torn castle line, fall into fall, revoke known presence tilt. Guilt fly, screaming eye, lesser unknown, cold below, barrel knife, feet slice into & among anonymous pension of world. Cruel fat tower woe, sleep grease forest wake attack, weariness poem slink & slide, heavy fortune roll & roll, wetness crack, loneliness toll, same all same, same all same, whisper for to pass more time. Garbage track not rolled. Not me. A weak interception of distance. Green country wine all gathered in cuttings, satisfaction floorboards, lease exposed on knife. Sleep steep gloomy curve sex, & lie upon leg. A king of the fracture, a fortunate five, a lynch mob not lied, the rope is not tangled, such fortunate roll; reactionary curve, daughter not light; we have here now the whole tomorrow. Supersonic decay, split in half when the smile is not slide. A laugh is an egg, the table adventure, the leaving exactness, a foiled religion: pretentiousness crap. Drummingness, yes - & he gets up & leaves. Cheers, later. A lynch mob in hiding, masculine sweat, catflap catch killer, endless rot, we lost it at that, failed it exactly & found nothing instead. A false accusation of ride. The right hat is not found. The bottle goes down. A friend is awake & the fiend a mistake. Reactionary fall, therefore all pregnancy must be debased. Fell in love with chair. A green-coloured mushroom floats into your brain. Implied & not cold, inviting on pulses, infatuate dig. I am not selfish, a haughtiness drug. To ask is not waver. Fortune waits warmth. An oath in the mouth is to go down but not swallowed. Feeding off your conversation in smoke & still there was not feelings inside, surveillance collapse, what happens next? Minerals cry, the end it grows nigh; wiped in a slide we are all that remain. Do not deny. Imperfect conditions to piss in the wind.
Track Name: After the Filmshoot (take 2)
...& just then God comes curling out of the mouth of a Hare Krishna tree singing along thereon with smiling coconuts on bouncing bulbous nose walls, a crackling of thunder, a bending love of nurses' benedictions, sanitised raspberries & a godawful refrain. He shatters feet tapping skulls cracked in holy ghosts, & just then at that moment the priest with his pants down comes cowled in gullibility, flows through the road & is nevermore worshipped. Our rubber band limbs fly tumble apart. Sanitation contours, & the sky opened up into layers of plastic, detaching loose cables from window-lit skull. Halloween candles to light from within. Torture chamber moaned inside nostril contours - beating its wings the newly hatched bird. The jungle cries 'what is this shit?'. Oh we're in the shadows, purple coming down on the right, circles ground into powder, freeform worriedness allowed aloud on the streets. A rubber skull taking off - bing bong hullabaloo - and parents' war on drugs. Elastic cracked in the ceiling. Baby soldiers, paratroopers, bungy jump down & she is metamorphosis. We are widening into outdoors. We are no longer inside but out below stars. A burst of laughter come along exactly 2.1 seconds after punchline delivered. We are all fakes. Someone turns into a corkscrew over on my right. I sit here alone. Team talk ahead, and I turn into favourites. The stomach all sparkles. All there a not chance. Got to escape, all there and not chance. No added sugar. The chorus expands, rising bubbles of tones, leads to a '70s style glam version of a Texas country & western revival. A bit of grease between you & the weather. Devils raid kitchens. She'll be classically lit & modelled in position, I've been ignoring her all night. They talk in tableau. I have ashes in my mouth, but this is purely coincidence. A glance in the right. Biological engineering division calls us into molten swill. Your brain a bowl of porridge, and that's if you're lucky. Do they say that in England? Idiot madman glued to his chair. A mouth with no face. Taking notes throughout the performance. Humans become worms, with a sameness that is frightening. Politics is bad: we knew this already, but now it's confirmed. Collapse into laughter. A cigarette chair from which comes a dictator; everyone in thrall to his conversation. A plastic wooden horse to capture the city -incongruous? Indeed. Expelled all the virtues? You to decide. Just like a snake shedding its skin, I escape from Greek tragedies. It fell away like a casing, my link to the Earth. My face fully wax. Back into dame housing. Meanwhile, he said the word 'om' & immediately felt an amazing sense of wholeness & oneness with the universe & also experienced a terrific bowel movement.
Track Name: O Henry Ending (The Winter version)
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