Get all 18 AmberHours releases available on Bandcamp and save 30%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Never A Cloud, Their Peril, Embers, Still Points (New Mixes), Among The... (Revised Tracklist), Moving Times (Revised Tracklist), Life Beyond Expiry, The Dance Is Up, and 10 more.
1. |
This City
02:07
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This city tools you up,
Sets you loose
And then leaves you to die
In any number of ways.
This city tools you up,
To be sure.
We’re all avatars.
The primacy of love,
Thinking,
A transient soul
Off to die amongst the people.
To be sure,
This is the place:
London is a deathbed.
How fast you learn.
We’re all avatars,
A place of no safety.
I’m thinking
We’re all avatars
In any number of ways
To be sure.
We’re all avatars,
We’re all avatars;
I’m suicide.
I’m suicide,
Walking.
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2. |
Hi-Beams, Hi-Vis
02:45
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This was not meant to be.
Walking beside the motorway
In twilight,
High-beams in my eyes,
High-vis on my shoulders,
Avoiding the traffic
And choking on the fumes
Of a stagnating mobility.
I paid highly for this,
To be here,
I paid highly.
Clearly,
It wasn’t enough.
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3. |
The Future Is Drowning
02:21
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Edged up,
Made sharper,
Our future’s drowning in the past.
The future is drowning.
Get behind the sale of the art:
Don’t get greedy.
Just take the bloody money.
Whatever happened to the comfort of being sane?
Just take the bloody money.
Whatever happened to the comfort of being sane?
Don’t get greedy:
Get behind the sale of the art.
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4. |
What You Want
01:45
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Covert.
Want.
Need.
Confuse.
Refuse.
Repeat.
Repeat.
Live any way you’d want to
Need.
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5. |
A Table
02:48
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A table, nous voilà debout
Here we are, standing at the table.
Il nous reste du travail à faire.
We still have work to do
Découper, reconstruire, assembler.
Cutting up, rebuilding, assembling.
Je bosse ici depuis toujours il me semble
I’ve been working here forever, it seems.
Il me semble.
Maintenant,
Now,
Le travail commence à me ressembler :
The work is starting to resemble me :
Slow, heavy, disagreeable,
Long, lent et désagréable.
Nos salaires sont penibles.
The salary’s bad,
Terrible :
Nos vies le deviennent aussi.
And our lives are becoming the same.
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6. |
Boxed Heat
02:37
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As the heat rises,
Tape sweats
And breaks,
Printers lose their centre.
Deadlines lag,
Alarm bells ring.
It’s only pressure, after all;
It’s true that money can’t buy love.
It’s true that money can’t buy love,
But its absence can stop it from growing,
Sitting further back
In an ever-growing queue of need,
Boxed, taped and piled high to resell.
As the heat rises,
The tape sweats.
It’s only pressure, after all.
It’s only pressure, after all,
Piled high to resell.
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7. |
Midnight Training
03:00
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Halfway down the stairs
At midnight,
Words and cameras are of little help
Or security.
There’s just pushing and shoving
Screaming in others’ faces,
Making noise
To exaggerate your gestures.
You’re minding your own business.
No-one else is minding theirs.
That becomes a problem
When your idea drama
Becomes someone else’s fare.
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8. |
No Good
02:14
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No good
For good.
Good.
No good,
It turns out
That I mistook my chances for oblivion
And all the rest.
And all the rest.
I’m no-one’s master
And just as well:
It’s nothing I’d have wanted.
No covenant, no faith:
Outside the church in red and reciting,
There’s no wrath I haven’t paid,
No good.
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9. |
Tracks
02:40
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Stopped
Dead in my tracks
As if there were nothing there,
A figure in a million,
A figure in oblivion.
A luxury,
Then nothing:
I see where I’m going now.
I can’t being you the truth,
But I can tell it to you,
A green–hedged desolation,
Fields as they’ve been for centuries,
All cut through,
Bypassed with tarmac:
Some innocuous scene
To finish my journey.
I see where I’m going now
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10. |
Elder Dreads
02:29
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Meeting the dreads again
After all this time
Means walking the corridors,
Means reading notes,
Means listening,
Means questioning,
Means seeing your old expectations
In younger eyes.
Means realising,
Realising there’s still some future perhaps,
They’re still someone’s possible future.
Meeting the old dreads again
After all this time
Means forgetting
What’s been stalking you.
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11. |
Symptoms
03:09
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I’m looking for something,
Something of substance.
I’m looking for something of substance,
Something that isn’t addictive.
I’m told
It’s a symptom,
Something that isn’t addictive.
I’m told it’s a symptom
Of my sanity.
It’s a symptom,
Something that isn’t addictive.
I’m looking for something:
It’s a symptom.
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AmberHours London, UK
A name from an old song. Old habits dying loudly.
Need you know more?
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AmberHours recommends:
This is one of those rare albums where everything fits together seamlessly. The performances are excellent; production is shiny without being showy and the songwriting is very, very strong.
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This is my favourite Grouper opus. It's concise without being rushed. Also, the space between the musical notes and the vocal harmonies really is a breath of fresh air. Love it!
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