Rough Tongue Surfaces

by jamesphoney & jamesreindeer

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  • Limited Edition Hand-Crafted CD

    limited edition hand-crafted cd in high quality dual-layer paper sleeve, prepared by raindrop watchers. includes tracklisting, album credits and two hand printed tokens.

    also includes immediate download of 8-track album in your choice of 320k mp3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.

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1.
03:19
lyrics
2.
05:33
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3.
06:43
lyrics
4.
03:52
lyrics
5.
02:52
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6.
10:11
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7.
02:27
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8.
04:58
lyrics

about

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contrary to popular belief, jamesphoney & jamesreindeer are not built from craft paper and string. they had been carving out their individual paths through the alt-rap scene from different sides of the capital of their fair isle before joining forces towards the end of 2007. jamesphoney with his cheeky smile and whimsical attitude and jamesreindeer with his frankly scary tones and spooky voice came together to explore the myriad wordplay their combined efforts might create. their debut collaborative effort 'rough tongue surfaces' stands as testament to their undeniable chemistry on any given track. their wide range of influences and collaborative works enable them to explore almost any given aspect of their chosen musical genre and how, onstage, they fully explore the possibilities of creating live extravaganzas therein. here’s to the two james’ and their wonderfully eccentric and dumbfounding ways...

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myspace.com/jamesphoneyjamesreindeer

myspace.com/jamesphoney

myspace.com/jamesreindeer

decorativestamp.org

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credits

released 30 December 2008
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produced by joel simeus and nimrod saarpreme

field recordings and additional production by jamesreindeer

vocals written and performed by jamesphoney & jamesreindeer

album mixed by joel simeus, nimrod & reindeer

album mastered by jamesreindeer

artwork by raindrop watchers

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Decorative Stamp Number Two - DST.002

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tags

tags: alternative alt-rap decorative stamp electronica emben digital folk jamesphoney jamesreindeer joel simues nimrod saarpreme psychedelic rough tongue surfaces shoegaze London

license

all rights reserved

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discography

contact / help

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Track Name: [ascent] / Void
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void void void void

silhouetted man equipt with paling face, glowing eyes. peering out from the photograph of the reflection of a water-colour painting reflected in the glass of the painting on the opposite side of the room behind james and james gazing at the lens

test site atomic glitter. dazzle dance on a rationed canteen of sun. isotope playpen. external walls elongated shadows in an unfurled tunnel buried neath whitesands. hope exposed in the bleached skyline.

trails of men stain vacant spaces

trails of men mark vacant plots

void void void void

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Track Name: DH.106 [part one] / Rough Tongue Surface [first degree]
stream. antagonist. barrel consumer. vault. necktie shadow. chapter smoke signal. this aspirin path. clapperboard, clapperboard. freelance transplant. shopping syndrome. solidified child shield. chapter shopping. balcony. solidify. geranium path. embarrassed computer shield. veto with an e. flow. witness reverberation. solidify the karma cynicism. pension. decision and cat food. sun death, balcony. necktie. gallows. gun scene.

romance is a poor career move and your favourite shoes were made in taiwan. there’s not enough rotten fruit to throw around so i juggle stones in allotments and somersault on greenhouses. how’s this for an education? if i could say it all in one word i wouldn’t choose to. i love bruising the air with my barely coherent ramblings. splutter, splutter. i cough in the face of cohesion. and see things i never saw before, wasn’t looking. i didn’t want to see them.

we’re not built from armour rusted in the hopeless chains of no focus, shrouded sedatives still costly, walking sallow, housed on a factory line. limelight routine crept in voices miming symmetry. collapse new buildings. lights in crates on display for modern man. disassociation, hollow out the trunk and douse the wand. this is the shape of the new organism. sky coracle or powerline. fingers scrape on firmament and in fragments of borrowed skies.

borrowed skies, time flies heavier than boeing what-nots. but a lot less obtrusely, single file zombie chairman

shrapnel catches jaded faces, laid out scouts for a new sold party dancing

sawn off snout. fruit-picker never eat the fruit. i’ve tasted silver and wasted time for purely my own amusement

grounded in a pre-fabricated delusion bound to sudden eyes crawling into vengeance now singing

perforate my paper angel wings and skin the forbidden fruit alive. i’ve less time for notions now. period.

the cult hypnosis salvation gracing pages of sunday supplements and grinning in the sinning eyes of those less hopeful.

meanwhile in my parents kitchen, discussing with my mother anarchy, biscuits, ex-lovers and the blueprints of our dayscapes.

the void left ajar. now singing healing songs in the pit and dreaming in grease of transparencies desires

collapsed factory sedative. armour rusted. hopeless opportunity. cynicism child. embarrassed computer. chapter robot. weeds, geranium saturation. sun death. balcony necktie. reverberation choice, decisions and cat food.

geranium path. aspirin pension cost. shopping syndrome. weeds flow. carbon chokehold. window vault. barrel consumer. suicide clapperboard. child love. gun dog saturation. solidify karma. shadow mutiny. sun death. balcony visitation. lock-jaw.

this is not a song for symbols or memories
this is not a song for the ageing of time
this is not a song for slow hypnosis
this is not a song for performance art

morphing air expelsion . morphing air expelsion

dressed head to toe in nothing more than tar and feathers i take to the streets to sleepwalk my way across my dream patterned wonderscape. the shape of an ageing heart can eclipse the better part of anything. this is my serious face i’m bearing right this moment. i am the plinth upon which my skin parades itself so raucously. talk is cheap. especially when one speaks about how cheap it is. strip this down to nothing but stripes and signs, remind me i’m just passing through. i don’t ponder words enough before i scruff them on the rough surface of my tongue, as i blurt them out my mouth wounded.

eventual sundown. tentative outstretched space etched in mornings promise. host to the transparent policy. listing off-balance and now ancient and pale and doubting at the platform. failing marginal wish or thrown down temple. unremebered at the now distant passing. throw choke-holds from the gallows and sing vast on the premise. we drift in constant motion. still shifting expanse of worlds collapsing. sudden dust and now sands and now spans cliff-tops, orbits moons and makes lamps of stars

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Track Name: Rough Tongue Surface [second degree] / [adrift]
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a lament in any form is a statement to lost youth. or something.

sun beams, tilted screens or forest imagery on a printed page

an eager whisp of air leaves my sculpted lips and slips away

rows a slow boat to burial grounds on fading cells

see now i’m old enough to know no better than ever before.

i saw suffixes

light shows for tired eyes or scale the falling buildings.

banners reading save the children

cloudless flight on steelwings or superimposed on film stills

blown up real big

permit me to proceed from wherever it was i left off

vapours trails. i left off

cloudless flight on steelwings or superimposed on film still

blown up real big

terror terror terror terror terror terror terror terror

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Track Name: Whitesands
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cut and paste. repeat to fade away. cut and paste. repeat to fade.

crazy paving. views from steel wings. sky chairs reclined from one third upright positioning. clouds disperse to unfurl diorama plates in humble sepia. solitary swing swings in the wind, creaking probably. yeah, probably.

one assumes certain things when in flight. reader in transit light. dimming bulb ricochets, it’s all above us. to sketch comparisons between stanza’s, to stretch the eyeball, to fall forever. water and grass graph-paper partitions.

laughing gas type of laughing. short haul listeners but not listeners. divine driveway abreast the rubbish heap. telephone wires blossom. this is a school of though to stitch up one’s watch pockets.

trolley service. cautionary tales of the man who went to seed with a fractured wingspan. tepid soup battle plan. wilting podium handstand. overly grand scheme.

factory fields ink bleeds on fingered blueprints. city halo’s burn fall-out glow. yellow and black sticky tape, tie knots only. carcass fuselage rots neath tarpaulin.

white sands plains baked in glitter. palms pressed to plastic, so pallid. wicker baby vessel floats downstream.

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Track Name: Civil Avionics / [first heartfailure]
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robinson R44
sikorsky S61L
spartan executive 7W
tupelov TU414
airbus A319
boeing 377 stratocruiser
dehavilland DH86
grumman HU16

beechcraft 1900
shanghai Y-10
spaceshift one
taylor craft series
air creation trike ultralight
bell 206 long ranger
diamond DA20
gaf N22

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Track Name: Rough Tongue Surface [third degree] / [second heartfailure]
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with a browning clementine in my good hand and a thread of thoughts in the other

built to supply and demand standards. standing on a raised platform

there’s still a lot to be seen in this good light he announced then turned into a seed

in a park, late afternoon sun rays, dappled haze and a wilting spell

water visits earth from silver outlinings of father stubble

vapour trail shapes frail in sailing breeze so sink these ships

the muffled voiceovers disintegrate in comical dusty shapes of fashion

in composing prose in a wheat field on faraway green hills

cut-outs bouncing all around in this this written in the midst of tuesday evening

static in signals drifting in. pale, pale, raised to the sun

i leave no scar, the songs of spring

bold gestures and guesswork. highlight in bright pen

bring the sharpest of stars to puncture the bluntest of nights. tightly twisted bags

gunshots from tower blocks and park-bench polaroids

pregnant with a bridge, fracturing the streams progress

rifle-rounds in a fun way. tall, white and painted

another shoe-bomb singalong from the raindrop watchers. eyeing through pebbledash shrubbery some place. a material either dances or shrivels in the windy grey at the exact same time a tribute is in full jig on a cornered screen someplace in colour. you dig your tunnels and i’ll go hide myself in them. i map the mountains i find within the pages of other people’s minds. unexplained terrain. you’ll never claim any flags fluttered here.

entrenched in a smug sense of well-being on a worn cornerstone contemplating the morn. bird flight beyond stone arch, the cast shadows outline the greying path past decaying spaces. footprints on a footbridge or lept-off balcony scramble. pylons or low lines shrines in rusted mosaic shapes and vapour trails sailing low 'neath cloudform mountains. murmuring passages collapse in attics. riding a robust bold motorcade at a slow parade to aid the movements.

same as me. same as them

open doors and then close them

another shoe-bomb singalong from the raindrop watchers

purifying powerhouses. liquified and put in bottles

a zest for life. healthy days

throwing a ball into the sky or firing rounds at these state governors. treetop bough balance and birdsong. song of the gone wrong. long stare from the upturned bench or failing sense of perspective in the face of short-lived options. now fading badly. gladly clinging on to the wilting bouquets glinting eye prize. collapsed at the altar or frozen in videotape motion with a slow gun on a low podium on a warm day in long hot summers.

no need for the structured pages of a book on public motors. i glance behind and read the faces of my fellow fellows; so free without any borders. condensation look-out post, hazy shades of objects. a strings attached to everything. a question framed is a healthy act of destruction. you’ve made a scratch on something. i no longer build bridges like my father and his one before him. i lace my shoes with lead and battle with the undertow.

terror. terror. terror. terror.

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Track Name: DH.106 [part two]
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forget rows of conjecture. staring beyond folk frozen without any platform to gesture from.

the sky tiring now. glance my gaze over shiny splintered skeletal forms, really quite abnormally interesting.

dance in the lightshapes of a smoky projector rooms gloomy ambience in slow honour.

disintegrating beauty hurries through it all. hoping. all broken and all the more gorgeous for it.

another car-bomb swansong in a crowded marketplace for the morbid choir renditions

cloudshapes glide. treetop archways confusing when viewed on your knees. so very mighty.

hidden in a cave complex, slow hand grenade serenade. half mast flags wilting.

hunt the fires on the othersides of horizons. thin lines over time grow plenty girthy with feet scuffing.

written in slow tuesday evening smoke and subdued tone announcements. so much still unsaid in the light of dusk.

open space sliced by sparkling motors rotating. hear the clap, thuder amusing if exhibited in installation pro halls.

leaves colours paint dark hue suggestions. torch-lit hills provide unsettling insight into the cut-ups.

rows of prose, cries of bruises. blanket the water crossing to veil a bold announcement tied tight. long unsaid.

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Track Name: Atomic Test Site [descent]
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trails of men stain vacant spaces
trails of men mark vacant plots

vast wooden man eating chimney tops whilst his face rots. a blaze of vibrant dark tones. cardboard mantelpiece on carpeted cross legs. learn to smirk. learn to smirk. skeletal silo ascends in rusted armatures.

test site atomic glitter. dazzle dance on a rationed canteen of sun. isotope playpen. external walls elongated shadows in an unfurled tunnel buried neath whitesands. hope exposed in the bleached skyline.

trails of men stain vacant spaces
trails of men mark vacant plots

void void void void

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