Released February 2012Two releases into our We Dream In 45 program for 2012 and the scope and diversity of the pop single is already vividly demonstrated. Last time around we were in Indie-land, with the sad sacks and the dreamers, whooping it up and dancing like crazy then reflecting afterwards on what it all amounted to. This time, we're in the woods and it's getting dark. Originally the superb closing track of The Nightowl Sings album "By the Light Of the Fallen Moon", "Bright Yellow Sun" is here a different animal altogether. How to do a great cover version? - simple really, make it sound like a totally different song, the same being in a strange parallel universe all of it's own. Where the original came on like a pixelated, cracker-barrel philosopher spinning a moonshine tall-tale, We Are The Wooden Houses evoke an intense Fahey-style wander through the darkness. It's all come close and I'll tell you, if you really want to know, but don't hold me responsible for the words once they're out there.
The flip side, "3 a.m. Love Song", perfectly fulfils the promise of it's title. We're out of the woods now - but only just - stumbling out into the night, tired and restless, maybe a little stoned. It's a little town or village, out on the fringes - a lot of us came from a place like that (maybe we're still living there) - somewhere like Consett or Silloth. You make your own excitement in those kinds of places and it isn't always fun or particularly pretty. Maybe it's just wandering around looking for laughs or hash or some kind of revelation, however slight or fleeting. And there are the local characters and the familiar buildings and streets, warped and made a little strange by the drink or drugs or our youthful hopes and dreams. And the music itself, in amongst all of that, sounds a little like an imagined collaboration between Ray Davies and Donovan - both deadpan and trippy, clear-eyed and cosmic. Incantatory bells and smoky guitars creating beauty in the fog.
Both tracks create their own world and, if you listen long and hard enough, these worlds become our own. A shared autobiography. Sparse instrumentation - words, chords, mood and shadow - paint a universe. Intimate yet vast. The ghost in the machine is (always) art. - David.
Download here :
http://www.mediafire.com/?r3l1riwdlngwj2b
