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Broken Stay Open Demos

by Red River Dialect

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Dull rice, Dull stairs, Dull pillow. Get up. Walking around Bethnal Green again In the rain. Three streetlight shadows. Roman Road. Past Victoria Park Where just before dark I had cut myself On Für Alina. I move some boxes off my bed. There’s a letter beneath that I haven’t read, It says “Dear David…” And from a clear ocean I was taken up To a tremoring crest So high above Where I wait for the break and the deathly fall But the break don’t come There is no shore. The wave rolls on. Two years later Life’s not so tough. The sound of the key in the door means love On both sides now. But the water, it’s been ebbing away. The waves they don’t come by so much these days And I miss them. I miss the magnificent views, The gold haze caught in the air by the bruised Sun going down. So I say to the ocean Oh take me up To that tremoring crest So high above Where I know there’s no break and no deathly fall Now I see it come But I can’t catch it. The wave rolls on. I beat the gold So aery thin But I want it back I would lose you again Before I would lose The sense that you’ve gone In sentiment And aery song Oh you had to go To show me how To ride this wave Oh I see it now But I beat the gold So aery thin I want it back I would lose you again
I would like to be outside Or at least near a window so I could see the sky With the people I love We listen to the wind when the words are too rough I would like it to be daybreak Near to the sea, or near to the trees To be taken by time Taking my time to get wherever I’ll be There could be nothing to tell No ocean swell, no lines in the sky Weather of any kind Cheerful is the sight of the ready mind Oh the cave… of the Blue Dragon I don’t want to be up high I don’t want to fall, I don’t want to be seen I don’t want to be laughed at I don’t want to be caught speaking aggressively I’m terrified of terror Especially my terror taken humorously I don’t to stumble To trip or to tumble into dark irony Oh the cave… of the Blue Dragon What I wish for the end Is also the beginning of the life I intend… So throw the curtains open wide These words reveal a meaning that was never inside Oh the cave… of the Blue Dragon
Candle flame flickering Thunder rolls Thunder flickering Candle flame thunders and so When I sing to you Could you sing through me too? Let the rain touch me Let tears fall The tears on this page Are tearing a space through which all The voices I’ve heard Like timely rain, pour. Oh bell, bell you have said it so well: When I speak for others, do I silence them as well? And if, if I can remember this, Then the me that speaks, and the place I tell might kiss, silently. Paving stone shimmering Sacred world Concrete crust crushing The lives that otherwise would unfurl. Oh sun-trapped sun! How patient the light. I hear the jaybird That colourful crow With her monochrome bark To the birch tree my longing does go. Oh how fickle I am! Oh magpie, I will learn to love you. Oh why, why have I been so afraid To be genuine? What was it that made, made me believe That there could be anything wrong With an open heart, or an open hearted song? Singing me … Oh bell…
This evening the mist has returned. The dawn of November burned The morning mist away Mist frames the day. Or did the earth just rise Into the skies At the end of the Hallowed Day? Hallo day. Cinders lead the way To the presence of an absent way. To the path that the fire took, To the burning haunting every book. Tomorrow the day of souls, Cold mist and coals. I draw myself around The ashes I found. And yet I should touch these strings Like those of the heart. We could touch them here, Right here. Cinders lead the way To the absence that I just cannot say. To the path that the fire took, To the burning haunting every book. When days of such harmony sing What strikes the strings? A shudder through shoulders and tears, The feeling of fears. And feelings how they rise Like mist to the skies. But oh would the breathe again, I missed your goodbye. Cinders lead the way …
Laniakea 07:13
I cleaned out the cast iron cooking pot and then I placed it upon the hob I had turned on. The dishwater sizzled, it danced and it fizzled. The puddle did shrink, and I could not help but think Of the thoughts that I have when I think I’m not thinking. It’s shrinking, but oh, it never seems to go. And then I woke up and the puddle had vanished. I picked up the pan and I burned my poor poor poor. And I’m making a meal. I’m making a meal. With what I have right here. I’m making a meal. You told me the story of when you had driven Your teacher to town for an operation. They put him under, and when he came out He was talking to you in the way high teachers do. He asked if you would partake of a meal in a restaurant before You returned to your mountain home once more. And you said you’d eat what was put on the table, And he turned to you, and he said now that’s a good, That’s a good, That’s a good, Bodhisattva now! That’s a good. I see Kukkuripa in the pixels you show, And I see your heart. You drive through the snow, Careful yet bold. In our container we rocket along. Whatever you sing Is a nourishing song. Kukkuripa loved his dog and he sang. That’s a good …
I found a way out, out of the cold I found a body where the stories don’t go I came back as a story, that’s just how it goes But now I know the path from my head to my toes Deep in my trunk is there someone that knows What the elephant feels when she visits the bones The bones of the others who died long ago I reckon the roots of a story there grow We saw the hills of Galloway To my companion I did say The snowy peaks and spring clouds merge And in this thought did our hearts converge? Just like a horse he is turning away They try to catch his aye, they cannot see his neigh With his Portuguese guittara and his foot stamping ‘hey!’ Stir-up my heart, we gallop away The beeches are creaking, the blackbirds chase spring The treecreeper visits the quiet of wing And sometimes I am sitting and I just cannot tell The ring I swam through from the bluest of bells We saw the hills of Galloway To my companion I did say The snowy peaks and spring clouds merge And in this heart did our thoughts converge?
Is there something joining my wandering mind With the birch tree swaying through the open blind? Is there a connection or a chasm wide? Are there treasures that my thoughts of the birch tree hide? So I think about the way the birch roots roam Near the old railroad through the banks of loam. When the tall trees sway from side to side, The damp earth stretches and the heavens sigh; As do I now. I’m gaining confidence in the view now: The goodness of myself and others. The urge to connect and society! How? Cause I’ve seen the sky and also the weather. On the river Camel, when I was young, There was a water ladder for the salmon to run Next to the long slow sloping weir, Where the rubber duck race started every year. I used to dam the streams with pebbles and stones. And now I dam myself with cinders and bones. I feel the river building up inside. In the muddy puddle I thought I could hide. But it has gone clear now. I’m growing confident in the view now: The goodness of myself and others. The urge to connect and society! How? Cause I’ve seen the sky and also the weather.


Ahead of the release of the debut solo album by David John Morris in May this year, here are the solo demos he recorded which became the album Broken Stay Open Sky in collaboration with the whole Red River Dialect crew. This release is a bandcamp exclusive and includes three as yet unheard tracks that didn’t make it to the LP or any other RRD release. Every download of this digital-only album includes a coupon to pick up BSOS on any format at half price - a perfect anniversary bundle for the album called “beatific” by MOJO and like “Steve Gunn transplanted to Kernow” by Clash.

The artwork shows Gull Rock on the north Cornish coast, as did the beautiful cover on the full band recording, but this time we see it from a different angle. David says: “When I shot the film that this photograph was taken from I was trying to recreate the way it felt when looking at the outcrop from Trebarwith beach as a child; it looked like a cave or portal in the sky. At the time I had already found the photo we eventually used by artist Dayna Cowper online, but hadn’t yet managed to get in contact with her. Fortunately I found a gallery in the Yorkshire Dales, where she had exhibited a few years previously; they forwarded a message on to her, and she eventually agreed to let us use that shot for Broken Stay Open Sky. It perfectly encapsulates the feeling. In kind, here are the songs in an embryonic form, before the enrichment of collaboration and the fullness of sonic light and shade. Playing and singing these songs into a portable digital recorder I was thrilled to feel them take shape, and to imagine where Ed, Kiran, Robin, Coral and Simon would take them. Now that the album has been out for three years, these versions have a sort of shimmer and a grain, as well as a vibrance, and I am happy that the songs that didn’t make it to the album are finding a way out.”

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released February 5, 2021

Recorded at home March - May 2016

Mastered by Jimmy Robertson at SNAFU


all rights reserved


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