Pyrrhic Victories (album)

by Buzzard Lope

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04:27
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03:21

credits

released November 18, 2013

Music by Buzzard Lope, lyrics by Roger Illingworth,
Produced by Roger Illingworth. Mixed by Roger Illingworth and Adam Jarvis. Mastered by Adam Jarvis. Recorded at Lost Toys Studios and various bedrooms and living rooms in Bedford and London.

The musicians are:
Roger Illingworth – vocals, piano, tenor saxophone (5), soprano saxophone, toy piano, flute, acoustic guitar (7, 8), bells, programming, odds and sods
Adam Jarvis – double bass
Raphael Saib – drums, percussion
with
Gill Sandell – accordion, Oberheim
Rose Malone Illingworth – cello
George Young – tenor saxophone (6), clarinet
Pete Thompson – electric guitar (7, 9, 10), acoustic guitar (9)
Jay Williams – electric guitar (1, 4, 10)
Alan Lacroix – acoustic guitar (5)
Kieran Haynes – acoustic guitar (3)
James MacDowell – acoustic guitar (8)

Layout and design by Richard Loveday. Photography by Jez Brown.

Our heartfelt thanks to everyone that helped, but especially to Rose, Johnny, James, Andy, Jub, Chalker, and the oddly absent Eydmann.

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Buzzard Lope London

Alternative trio ploughing the raucous and melancholic furrows of Tom Waits and Elliott Smith.

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Track Name: Peak Of Evolution
Boys, you know who I am,
You know I don't begin without a dram.
I'm on the hip flask, piss in the rip tide,
Shit on the high rise.

I'm the Peak of Evolution,
Lying drunk, passed out on the rug by the bed,
By the bed, oh!

Boys, I put my tongue in my cheek
To make a little room for the foot that's in my mouth.
I'm on the dry rot, the bullet riddled love,
You're on the penny-bloods.

I'm the Peak...

I'm the Peak of Evolution,
Lying drunk, passed out on the rug by the bed, by the bed, oh!
I'm the Peak of Evolution,
So quit screwing around - I'm working here.
Track Name: Walk Don't Run
I know you thought we'd be there by now,
So thanks for all your patience with my many imperfections,
And my fumbling round with where the end-point lies.

I miss you like the ground.
Track Name: Blue Arsed Fly
I've been running around like a blue arsed fly,
Running around like a blue arsed...
Track Name: Pyrrhic Victories
Now to Pyrrhic Victories led,
On devilled eggs and black black bread.
Through Dresden Dolls and drizzle, dear,
My open wound against your ear.

All your currents course within,
But your surface is unbroken skin.
As I stand beside you now,
I see you are an ocean.

You bend me double now amidst cries,
A great inked ball between your thighs,
'Twixt your forefinger and thumb,
You're poised to write what shit might come.

I'll take your money and I'll dance,
I'll shake my thing and fill your glass,
As I stand before you now,
I see you are an ocean.

At my best, I rest my hand upon the water,
At my best, I rest my hand upon the water,
At my best, I rest my head upon your breast,
At my best, I rest my hand, I rest my hand, I rest my hand.
Track Name: Girls In The Straw
Spent the day in the fields,
Out the back 'cross the farm with your friend,
Fooled around with the breeze,
And then out to the hayloft
With the sun on the trees.

You climb up on the trailer,
Then you're up on the tailgate,
You're watching your friend
As he moves up ahead

He stands and he talks,
He tells you of art,
And he talks about movement,
As you stare down the cracks between the bales.

While your friend is still expounding,
Your thoughts turn without warning
To girls in the straw, breasts in the hay.

And he's done with his talking,
And he waits for an answer,
But you've nothing to say to him now.
And he moves 'cross the hay bales,
And he's down in the trailer,
He's guiding your feet to the wall.

Such a beautiful vista:
Distant hills with the fields in the fore,
Through which we'll run, mist clad and old.
Track Name: The Dry Eyes Of E H Gombrich
Oh, little Jon, what strangeness is this?
You've gone and you've slipped through my grip.
I don't believe that I know what it means.

Oh, little Jon, it's not real,
So tell me again how it is I should feel,
'Cause I don't believe that I know.

I'm moving my hands in the shape of a song for you.
Where are you now that it's harvest time?

Oh, little Jon, I'm amazed by the paper thin walls,
The passage of time, and your hand on my shoulder.

Oh, little Jon, all my sons bear your name,
They're five hundred in number, all lit with your flame.
I don't believe that I know what they mean.

I'm moving my hands in a curse of the cauldron cold.
Where are you now that it's harvest time?

Oh, little Jon, I'm a three legged stool,
Dancing blindfold among eggs,
You in three, me in two,
But each six, and each dozen you crash into view,
Dancing slow tarantelle, glass arachnid 'gainst blue.

Oh, little Jon, I'm a child now,
And no, I will not sleep:
I will not construct 'round your absence
The cage of a day gone, a week gone,
Lest I grow old in your absence with the dry eyes of E H Gombrich.

Where are you now that it's harvest time?
Track Name: East By East
I have raised an offer on this land,
I cannot drive you out, but I can try to force your hand.
A listless indecision in your blood,
But I am east, I am east by east by east.

I have gazed in awe at all you've done
But the palaces you've built from your great fictions all disolve upon your tongue
I have not come now to fight:
I am east, I am east by east by east,
I am east, I am east by east by east.

I stand amidst the dust of all your plans
It's gathered in the folds of your great robes that now are tatters in my hands
Even as you turn to land your parting blow,
I am east, I am east by east by east,
I am east, I am east by east by east.

The time it takes to tell you what I mean
Is my first major underestimation of the day
How hard can it be
To tell you what I'm thinking as I'm thinking it,
And not five seconds after the fact?
Track Name: Jugged Hare
Doo wah dee, yah dee dum,
Doo wah dee, yah dee dum.

I wake to find the day begun without me,
I draw upon my recollections of what's gone before.
Happily, I had forgotten all my aspirations,
Now, a hare for jugging, they come flooding back to fill my lungs.

Oh.

Hee hee hee, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Doo wah dee, yah dee dum,
Doo wah dee, yah dee dum.

It's out now with the hand bells,
Yeah, we'll play a quarter peal,
And we'll never repeat ourselves,
Never repeat ourselves, never repeat ourselves.

Hee hee hee, hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo.

Oooooohooooh.
Oooooohooooh.

Doo wah dee, yah dee dum,
Doo wah dee, yah dee dum.
Track Name: Continuum
Grass green waking dream,
Hold out your hand.
My devil red contessa,
I'm watching you get dressed,
Seeing for the first time
How beautiful you are.

This is all we are:
All that comes to hand,
A simple setting sun,
A coffee from a polystyrene cup.

Continuum ad nauseum

Hi ho fatal blow,
Stale stinking I
Your hand across the gavel,
Devil take your tongue,
An idiot in winter,
Cowering within cold tedium

Continuum ad nauseum

Roses, a ring thereof, slowly processing past the narrowest of windows, an ancient animation of a girl I know, in instants, in moments, in pink and in black.

My my, what am I to do?
It isn't coming easily, it isn't coming naturally at all,
And no one will believe me that I have done my best here,
That I have tried to make a thing or two, but what's the point?
Shape it with your fingers, and leave it on the mantel piece.

Roses, a ring thereof, slowly processing past the narrowest of windows, an ancient animation of a girl I know, in instants, in moments, in pink and in black.

Continuum

Roses
Track Name: Fag Ash Crow
You come at me with your bright hello,
And that cold old day of doom in tow,
But I don't hear you coming in,
And I will not hear you leaving.
How can I be truly sure
That you were ever here at all?

Is that a five part harmony I hear?
Oh say, is that a five part harmony I hear?
Well, I could get up on that five part thing,
If I teach these boys right here to sing,
But I don't hear them coming in,
And I will not hear them leaving.

You dive dive dive little fag ash crow,
Come pick your worm from the quagmire flow,
You spit your sugar, turn to go,
But you're caught in ecstacy's sad throws,
You come at me with your bright hello,
And then you dive dive dive when the foul wind blows.

Here comes Johnny with a running gag:
He can't tell the moment from the photograph.
Here's ten old hags on the cutting line,
A ring of roses soaked in brine.
Here comes my girl Eleanor -
I'll tie her to me come summer.
Track Name: Blue Bow
I have a blue bow around my neck,
And a string with which you pull me.
I have a blue bow around my neck,
And a string with which you pull me.

You have a yellow bow in your hair,
And a string with which you pull me.
You have a yellow bow in your hair,
And a string with which you pull me.

I have a blue bow around my neck,
And a string with which you pull me.
You have a yellow bow in your hair,
And a string with which you pull me.

Your hands behind your back, my dear,
Hold the string with which you pull me.
Your dress billows when you walk,
And there's a string with which you pull me.

I have a blue bow around my neck,
And a string with which you pull me.
You have a yellow bow in your hair,
And a string with which you pull me.