Music for All Occasions

by Robocobra Quartet

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1.
02:56
2.
04:21
3.
03:45
4.
5.
6.
02:00
7.
8.
9.

credits

released November 18, 2016

Chris Brazier - Assistant Engineering
Chris Ryan - Vocals, Drums, Production, Engineering
Dan Coutant - Mastering
Gavin Millar - Photography
Nathan Rodgers - Bass, Effects
Patrick Gardiner - Backing Vocals
Paul O'Reilly - Bass Clarinet, Clarinet, Tenor Sax
Ryan Burrowes - Oscillator, Effects
Sean Joseph - Backing Vocals
Simon Templeton - Piano
Thibault Barillion - Tenor Sax, Alto Sax, Flute
Tim Farrell - Art, Layout
Tom Tabori - Soprano Sax

Recorded at Start Together, The Harty Room & Mandela Hall, Belfast
Mastered at Sun Room Audio, New York
Lacquer cut at Finyl Tweek, London

This release has been supported by PRS for Music Foundation’s Flash Funding in association with MODO.

tags

license

Track Name: Correct
i wondered why - instead of calling me "a critic" - you called me "critical".

i've been asked if Cash really killed that man way out in the desert of Nevada. I don't know.

he says "You've got the look of someone who's got the world figured out". correct.

but it's a solo endeavour: admission for one.

admission I've strayed.
admission I'm done.
admission I'm long gone.
admission for one.
Track Name: You'll Shrug
pour over a week of transcripts:
four out of five words a waste

leave more on the cutting room floor.

or you'll start to get the feeling that your mouth should sound the opposite of what you mean
to coax a kind word, to coax cordial flood
you'll get the feeling.
Track Name: Nice Life
your two o clock fell through.
your three o clock failed you

hands wave from afar... dreadful sinking when you find they are just palms in refusal.

chris won't be seeing anyone today, he feels its better this way.
your day flew in.
your day can't begin.

you saw them slip and fade: pirouette turned setback. head split on ice.

nice life.
Track Name: Problem Solver
i have nothing to report on my return

back from fact finding, i have found no facts.
home from the new world, gurkha's gloss turned matte.

i want to talk for a second about where we're at
i want to talk for minute about that
i want to balk for a moment before we yield
faults find their way to cheek each year

I have nothing to report on my return

but i found comfort in a held-back smile seeping through your speech
sleeping through a few weeks, waiting for the worst to drop

those weeks were astral but i lay in wait for the death-knell 
sometimes your day takes a different shape than you thought it would resemble.
Track Name: Our Very Own Version Of November Rain
like a claymore faced toward moving car
like a turncoat, incorrect guess at who we are

history not worth repeating
r.o.i on a chance meeting

work in shifts for twelve months of the year
to come a long way from right about here
dragged by the hair, pulled by the ear

caught by surprise on an idle monday
says "it feels right", looks more like a halt at a turnpike
a frightful prospect draws near

work in shifts for twelve months of the year
to come a long way from right about here
dragged by the hair, pulled by the ear.
Track Name: Find X
find x, show your working.
found standing next to profound things
find yourself seething
find yourself not hearing
find yourself saying the same thing.
Track Name: Dirge For Self
got on like a home on fire

as embers burned i quickly learned this home was a pyre



got on to a bad repetition

watch me second guess, watch me dig my heels in

what i do best



what i do has Strait Bering on you

stepped out for the entire day just to watch my mind go astray


like an encore on a setlist, lose magic by delineating everything straight away
Track Name: Straight Lines
i want to be a doctor. i want to be a vet.
i want to be what the universe doesn't know it needs yet.
i want to be a firefighter, albert stanley   
right now i'm gordon ramsay 

when the letters stop coming, when the jury comes in
i want to be a straight line
i want be present for the shrill chime of my verdict

a guard in a white uniform, a sixteen year old not home
i'm perched on the pavement clutching a phone
galvanised by the knowledge that I'm alone 

learning about straight lines
a billion people with little x's for lives
a billion people joined in a collective sigh 

when I emerge and roll the boulder back i'll be much bolder and tactful too.
the slate will be wiped and i'll start anew. 

i'll be a straight line
i'll be present for the shrill chime of my verdict 
Track Name: Album Of The Year
another year came around
take stock of what's left in lost and run aground
sachets scattered on a tray
let the help take it away
third-person fugue state

hibernate for december, when frost bites down
a season drowned and then frozen as a placard, spelling out in script: "31 days set to fuck you up hard".

four months on, that creeping sense of dread turns numb
spring has sprung and the world stays deaf and dumb
come along for a dry run - this one's just for fun.