Want to know more about all songs from our EPs? Just read on below, we are running a series of "songs & stories" giving you a background on all 12 songs, updated weekly.
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At the bottom of the page you will find our latest EP "Work/Worth" with all lyrics.
3. That Way You Do
I had heard of the excessiveness of Berlin's nightlife, but it was low, if even existent, on my list of reasons to move there. Some of my German friends warned me of the „Berlin Loch“ (Berlin hole), which supposedly would suck you in and spit you out decades later, with little to no clue as to what had happened in the time that had passed. In London most of my friends were concerned with some new diet, a new yoga regime, Hans Ulrich Obrist’s sleeping pattern and generally all things that could make their life run closer to the atomic clock.
So, even if I had been warned, I found myself surprised at the beginning. When I was supposed to meet people for a drink, I sat at home fully dressed and ready at about 8pm, eventually called them to ask where we should meet just to learn, that I had woken them from a nap and that they still needed to shower and eat. On my very first night trying to go out in Berlin, I actually never left the house but went back to bed at around midnight, as my friend had still not told me where we were going to meet. On another of my first nights out, I left the house at around midnight to go for drinks at a friends house, being bewildered when, well into what I thought was the last drink of the night, someone suggested going to a club. Like hikers on their quest to conquer the Himalayas, a little more alcohol consumed to be fair, we set out in the middle of the night in company of minus degrees in the double digits, to go to a club. Whilst safely making it there, the best I could manage on location was a prolonged and uncomfortable sleep on a couch next to the cloakroom.
With time my new social surroundings however got to me and I familiarized myself with the late and long nights that seemed to have little respect for what the always-fervent sun deemed to be the morning hours. I got used to sitting weary on a morning train home with some fresh and sober faces on their way to work that, whilst to my understanding being a marginalized minority, also existed in the city. I did enjoy this new form of going out yet, at times, it worried me and I was wondering if I was loosing sight of my original reasons of moving and the ambitions entangled with it. This often led to me spending the day after a night out with a hang over, starring in a double role of out of control teenager and concerned parent.
I eventually wrote “That Way You Do” in the immediate aftermath of one particular night out that started in a bar in Kreuzberg with a game of taking selfies with random strangers that look like yourself, later climbing over a roof into a club and misunderstanding a friends friendly wink for a flirting attempt, which should lead to me drunkenly proclaiming to her, that me too I had a broken heart while she substantiated with a head shake, that indeed all men were pigs. She took it as a queue to get on her way home and, in an attempt to elaborate on my broken heart, I followed her on the most likely route to the train station, where I then sat, slowly sobering, thinking about the promise of freedom that I had bought into recently, seemingly leading me to a feeling or possibly even a reality of missing substance in my life. That morning the sober faces on their way to work opposing me on the train seemed endlessly more appealing, contently and sturdily making their way.
"That Way You Do" is on
That Way You Do
crashing out the dangerzone I call your phone but every number's wrong tracked your traces until my eyes played blind now trains of thoughts they're leaving my mind on time I swallowed all guess now it's swallowing me the days they're pushing one another hey let's not interfere i want to be real so i can see things that way you do No need to be free just let me believe in what you do that way you do wonder if this could hold a photograph the colours seem so frail, I think they would rub off your head's a mess but that will be alright I think I like you, let's hope it lasts a while you know I got it coming bad one day but until that day I think that you should stay we'd rent a room just something temporary there'd be no cars or dogs or kids but it would be a home i want to be real so i can see things that way you do No need to be free just let me believe in what you do that way you do that way you do that way you do that way you're doomed that way you do that way you do that way you're doomed because you can't see now so you won't believe in me no the things you can't see now make you not believe in me no i want to be real so i can see things that way you do No need to be free just let me believe in what you do that way you do
2. That's How I'll know
Moving from London to Berlin happened in a flux. I spent a long weekend in early December in the city with a very vague idea of wanting to move there, had a look at a couple of flats and 5 weeks later found myself unloading my belongings in the freezing snow from a movals van. Over the next year I was dangling on a bungee cord, consisting of strong London ties, over the unknown grounds of Berlin, eventually not snapping back to carry me to where I started from but breaking, just close enough to the ground to allow me a docile landing in my new surroundings. One of the last ties breaking was my distance relationship that succumbed to a difference in perspective on life that even the constant white noise accompanying our skype calls ultimately could not mute.
Whilst being at most times a very good one, the relationship was from the beginning also defined by arguments that could erupt like a somnolent night sky on new years eve, many times over the slightest of all issues. In their course the arguments regularly conjured up “end of the world” scenarios, turning many aspects of the relationship into their most possible negative. Even if hindsight usually led to amusement at the ludicrousness of the tantrums put on display for feeble causes, some of the things said, especially the ones with a little more substance, accumulated to occupy a space in between us that got harder and harder to bridge. In time our patience run out, bearded and tired like Forrest Gump on that motorway, leaving his followers clueless with the simple words “I’m pretty tired, think I go home now”.
I wrote “That’s how I’ll know” around the time leading up to the break up, tiring and wondering how many “end of the world” scenarios we could evoke until it actually turned the end of the world. In my head I always see the song as a Greek tragedy playing out in a 21st century kitchen, the protagonists lamenting their woes, a Sophoclean chorus setting in, probably all over a badly closed milk carton in the fridge.
"That's How I'll Know" is on
That's How I'll Know
I never knew how time went by so I never stopped a thing no I never stopped to think you never knew how you should cry to get your way go get your way when the stars give up the sky when the moon it leaves the night to the dark that's how I'll know when the birds fall from the trees to sing their last song to me that's how I'll know We really could have been some one but we never did a thing until the things they got us done they say the future's a stubborns' child so bemused at pushing welter and now my restless nights are rife when the stars give up the sky when the moon it leaves the night to the dark that's how I'll know when the birds fall from the trees to sing their last song to me that's how I'll know look at all these silly games we play always looking for an obstacle I'm always looking for an obstacle now the stars gave up the sky and the moon it left the night to the dark that's how I know all the birds fell from the trees and sang their last song to me that's how I know
Let's start at the beginning. Or maybe the end, but then every end is also a new beginning, so the beginning it is. Shortly before I moved from London to Berlin my mother had moved out of my childhood's house. After a good 20 years of living there, she moved to Switzerland to live with her husband. I was very happy for her, but at the same time feeling like someone pulled the safety net while I was trying to learn how to walk a tight rope.
A year onwards, I was still feeling fairly unsettled in Berlin, doing jobs here and there, spending a lot of time practicing and writing and having long walks, mostly in the snow. It was my second Berlin winter and it was a cold one. Sometimes I hardly left the house for days and, with the long hours of darkness, was sitting in my room in the early evening looking out and feeling like the world outside must have disappeared. It was so dark and quiet, that I had the temporary illusion of not sitting in my flat, but in a space ship, drifting through the universe aimlessly. I took horror and pleasure at once in letting this thought consciously fool me into believing it.
Sometime in that period I traveled to Frankfurt with my girlfriend. We were staying in a part of town that most of my friends were living in these days. One day, we passed through the borough I grew up in and I had the idea of showing her where my old house was. We entered my old street to find it, placed at the end of the charmless courtyard, right where I had known it to be throughout all of my childhood years. A man unlocked the front door just in that moment and, explaining that I grew up there, I asked him if I could show the inside to my girlfriend.
It was a big place, holding a winter garden, a terrace and rooms on two separate floors that were connected by an old wooden staircase. The stairs had a little slide, presumably for luggage, that I often misused as a kid for tiny, uncontrollable joyrides that ended with me crashing feet first into the wall. I have very happy, lively, comforting and quiet memories of growing up in the house, yet it was also the house that I lived in with my parents before and after they split up. So apart from going from child to young adult there, it accommodated a certain crucial change in my life for me, the loss of a construct of home in the sense of a family unit.
On that day, about a year after my mother had left the place, I was walking through the house with my girlfriend, followed by a man that I learned was the landlord's brother. I remember entering the kitchen first and seeing it empty, the tapestry damaged and coming off the walls. It was a fairly meek sight and did little to support the warm memories I had. This continued all through the house, an old art poster, that my mother somehow forgot and left hanging on the wall, being the thing reminding me most of the place once being my home. While we were standing on the upper floor, where my parents and I had our bedrooms, the man explained that they were planning to tear all walls down and make the place into a two-floor apartment loft. They were only waiting for the finance and construction plan to clear. Not long after, we found ourselves back in the courtyard thanking him for his hospitality.
It is under these impressions that I wrote “Times/Tides”, my childhood's house being more an artifact than a place of actual existence, the feeling of floating alone in the universe in a little spaceship, having left a certain period of my life behind and realizing the melancholy of it. It is about life carrying you onwards, towards new times and feelings and having a moment to contemplate and to realize that you are going to miss the times and the people that you were.
Times/Tides is on
pierce through the night kindle the flames in this house of ice build it all up then let it break down guess you have to get lost before you'll be found they say these are the times but here you are stuck in love with what you despise move it all out then let it back in guess you have to be hurt before you can heal and now the tide's coming and I'm not sure we will ever feel the same the patches of paint, they defy you the stairs you once played on, now they hardly hold your weightthose were the times mourn with a smile guess what you have lost now you won't find
again seems nothing remained of that shiver, that held you that broken door frame, that kept you up all night we gave what we had if it's not enough I'll try to mourn us with a smile and now the tide's coming and I'm not sure things will ever be the same one day far I'll build another home for us
doors open up, like hungry mouths
the feast gets served, the horde devours
the digits loath, you do a count
of what you deserve
month in month out
like sisyphus on a budget cruise
finding long lost feelings
in the mediterraneans
go vindicate your bitter fate
exuberant and crushed at once
we're not trying to have it
just a piece of it, that's
blackened fingers, fidget souls
we're just people made of faults
at least so we've been told
go take vacation, from your vocation
could lose some pounds, you're loosing ground
on who you'll be, when you'll be you
lacklustre love, grate till it's true
join the razzmatazz, husky words you cough
go drink it up your bitter cup
and i know just what you'll say before you even go and say it
cause the numbers say that
that there's two in four that
with the chemicals and all that
oh won't you go and shut up
When Boys Grow Up if this is just another story about the good and the bad cop I'm not sure I care which one is landing the sucker punch I'm lacking the ambition for a better nutrition but that's not to say that I don't care about human kind don't give up I know that we're made of much more than these fast fading dreams when girls grow up they're told that they'll find love now I'm not sure just what that means if this is just another story of the good and the bad boy I'm not sure I care which one is dying the lonely one here comes another rendition of an old superstition if we shall all sing a song please make it a simple one don't give up I know that we're made of much more than these fast fading dreams when boys grow up they're told to toughen up now we can't feel just how it feels to be alive and to be scared to die but I'm not so scared when you're with me don't give up I know that we're made of much more than these fast fading dreams when boys grow up they're told to toughen up now we can't feel just how it feels to be alive and to be scared to die but I'm not so scared when you're with me I know that I could live a thousand lives but this one seems alright to me yeah this life is just fine by me oh this live it's alright by me
As If This Never Was Nothing that I did was right I'll never change you and you'll never change me so long, so long Just another time had you bouncing on my mind but there's no way back forth Just another day had our story on my tongue but there's no way to tell the skies above from hell So come on, come on, come on just leave these tears to roll Now come on, come on, come on there's nothing I can do if you feel alone Yours was just another face I got used to have around but that was not to say that it would stay that way One day the sun will burn us out as if this never ever was and who are we to say that love should not be that same way So come on, come on, come on just leave these tears to roll Now come on, come on, come on there's nothing I can do if you feel alone Nothing that I did was right I'll never change you and you'll never change me so long, so long Every way I faced was back I never change you and you'll never change me so long, so long
Infinitesimally Preconception's footsteps follow me Cheshire cat whispers from its tree not one piece is the place that it's supposed to be Our canned fruits of sin dusting on our shelves these late autumn dreams, they keep me tied to my bed I still wanted to tell you what a good time I had Well nothing was the way that it's supposed to be, but everything it was perfectly fine you see When nothing has a place, everything is in its place, these things won't ever be that way that they should be yet somehow we, now somehow we See patterns in the shades of giants that precede our roads they cross and twist infinitesimally and somehow we, now somehow we broke free Your father was a soldier, conquering the universe your mother never bothered to defend you now my eyes they trace your frailty Like lycra catching thunder, wrinkled hands entangled in a storm you're close now, come and follow me Where nothing is the way that it's supposed to be, but everything it is perfectly fine you see When nothing has a place, everything is in its place these things won't ever be that way that they should be yet somehow we, now somehow we See patterns in the shades of giants that precede our roads they cross and twist infinitesimally and somehow we, now somehow we broke free baby you just always care too much baby you just always want too much baby you just always need too much baby you just always talk too much
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