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Stories of the Screens

by Tom Gunn Nash

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1.
See no reason to go outside, no reason to see another life As it's all too easy, as it's... All too easy With all these pictures spread out in front of me, I'll study the case Then take the escape and I'm stuck inside Not a second too late I will And I'm feeling to fall now -Ohhh oh oh- Woke up I fell asleep, what's the difference? All just one haze on me, well what's the difference? Find myself in a dreamless state all the same Could not trace the moment I lay my head and I awake Love is all around me But all my friends are in binary Doesn't quite give the same push and pull as life did When you come around with Each time you come around with... And I'm feeling to go now -Oooo oh oh- Ohhh oh oh- Woke up I fell asleep, what's the difference? All just one haze on me, well what's the difference? To walk without, without a doubt to walk To walk right, walk right out to walk Take flight from my desk and taste the air Take flight from my desk and breeeeeathe the air To walk without, without a doubt to walk Woke up I fell asleep, what's the difference? All just one haze on me, well what's the difference?
2.
Well isn't it a shame, as we do wake too late And I see the hand of the clock tick by on by Tick by on by Put on clothes and dry our hair A decision we'll make, some hopeless conclusion we'll draw By the end of the day, if it's ever dawn So I guess we'll call it a day Call it to another day This act doesn't carry a series of zeroes and ones As there's a little less or more of zero A little less or more of one Spent about half our time Just trying to get on the right side of the day And what I've learnt from this coming of age Is that the world, for us is an unforgiving place Upon the fear of making a mistake -Trip and fall by your side, pick each other up- To trip and fall by your side So I guess we'll call it a day Call it to another day
3.
There's a little periscope called my mind, by this I mean Only sees what it wants to see and what it wants to believe There's a little periscope called my mind, by this I mean World don't be mean to me, it's not what your meant to be Cover me up in your blanket, but not for warmth Spent my time chasing wires, o forever and more Pitter and patter, flitter and flatter, goes the sound of the rain From my window to yours forever and more A sight I'd die to live and see Doesn't quite fit into place And in a second I'm there I see Cover me up in your blanket, but not for warmth Spent my time chasing wires, o forever and more -Ohhhhhh-Ahhhhhhhhh-OoooooooooooOooohhh- Cover me up in your blanket, but not for warmth Spent my time chasing wires, o forever and more If there's a little periscope called my mind, by this I mean If there's a little periscope called my mind Won't let it set it's periscope eye on it As you're getting your news from the mail daily And I'm getting mine from the canary I guess there's a world in which we could be A little more independent With a (The) Guardian weaving through the columns O' column after column
4.
5.
Ooooooooo- Ohhhhhh- AhhhhhhhhhhhhhhAhhhhhhhhh
6.
Memory is a strange old trick, should it be something to address? Memory is a strange old trick, should it be something to undress? See the body behind there Double mirrored I am right now and seen as I can see The crook in our neck, for once wasn't unfamiliar There's more to be read Now here I am the passenger Doctors, loved ones, heavy lifters, weight off the shoulders -Instrumental chorus- No pain do I feel, just structure as a symptom My postures are postures of some Should it be something to undress? Then you took me up and I'm glad you like the work of surrealists As their heads tilt to there, whilst their shoulders rests down here Whilst the waist dances it's circles Now here is a weight, I'm advised not lift Why bother feeling weak when everyone around me can lift it Your awareness seems to show contempt, why is that? Just see us while we're here Then ask questions to find out my limits Our spines won't just, disappear You know I shouldn't hassle with this So a wonder spells you to check After every bump in the road, as who knows what it was...? O memory you strange old trick -Instrumental chorus, end-
7.
8.
Pohádka 04:59
The headlines are read out in a hallway of mirrors But it's clear now to see, you before me Each corner is turned, there's no illusion As to whose angle is whose A change of direction A turn of hand The same direction Turn the hand- It's the same direction In arms is where we rest our head After I raised my concern my voice got drowned out By a tyrant reciting a holy violent text And suddenly I get a bit tired After the dozenth fairy tale, oh to soften the blow, oh Looking up at the hill while going down one I tell myself one tower is awake, the other asleep In arms is where we rest our head
9.
Syrcas 02:28
Ooooooo-Ahhhhh_oooooo-ooooo-Ahhhhh-oooo-Ahhh

about

Stories of the Screens revisits familiar themes from Cutting Shapes, an exhibition I took part in during May - July 2015 at Site Gallery in Sheffield, UK. For the exhibition I facilitated a pop-up recording studio and wrote three folk based songs around the themes of Cutting Shapes (tracks 1 - 3), which I also performed live as part of the exhibition.
Featuring an extended work 'Postures of A Dream' which is divided into three parts (tracks 5 - 7), also with variations (tracks 8, 9). 'Postures of A Dream' embraces my experience with a rare congenital disability, 'Klippel-Feil Syndrome', characterized by the fusion of several vertebrae in the upper portion of my spine. I'm lucky in a sense that I don't suffer any physical pain unlike most affected, which I explain in the song, 'No pain do I feel, just structure as a symptom'. It has been a joy for me to write about this aspect of my life.

credits

released April 12, 2019

All songs written by Tom Nash.
Produced, engineered and mastered by Tom Nash, with additional recordings made by Simon James Clowes.
Performed by:
Tom Nash- Vocals, Guitars, Glockenspiel, Synth, Sampler, Bowing things that shouldn't.
Simon James Clowes- Violins, Violas, Bowing things that should.
Sam Nash- Mandolin, Bowing things not.
Artwork by Jessica Maria Heywood. Visit: www.jessicaheywood.com

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Tom Gunn Nash Sheffield, UK

Mostly self-taught, I write folk songs as a way of telling stories and challenging my own way of thinking.

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