The Singer's Tale by [email protected]

Running Away. by [email protected]

Mystery Train by [email protected]

I’ll be the moon. Grimes/Hrybowicz © 1980s

V1

I thought I saw you on a crowded street.

When we touched, it wasn’t you.

I smell your perfume in an empty room

I see your shadow on a stair.

V2

Was it your face I saw -

reflected in a neon glare?

I heard your voice above the city noise -

when I walked out late last night?

V3

I find myself forgetting

You don’t live here anymore.

I took message from you today-

But I don’t know where you are.

Bridge.

I’ll be here -I’ll be the moon - I’ll be the tide in Spring.

I’ll be sun I’ll be the spring for you..

V4

I have the photo you took in Italy

When you were there last spring

Beside the mirror, your comb still holds those few stray strands of your hair.

V5

In winter, when the days are dark -

and the night seems too long to bear.

I lie awake remembering

The precious times we used to share.

The Independent. A review for QEH Show.

This was followed by "I Said She Said", another "confrontational" improvised piece for three pairs of women singers. By the time The Shout tore into "I Sing Because I Sing", the audience was hooked. This is a tremendous ensemble piece, with featured solos and duets. Carol Grimes was in particularly good form for her duet with Wayne Ellington. The Shout closed their fine concert with the relatively brief "Taking Leave Of A Friend".

There is something intoxicating about music like this. The Shout show us that there are many new things to be done with the voice, and that innovation doesn't have to be driven by technology, or anything more than a basic urge to make music - whether by scribbling it down, or by opening your mouth, taking a deep breath and letting rip.

Purcell Room John L Walters Wednesday January 5, 2005

The Guardian

….. The show gives many of the group a chance to shine as composers and arrangers. Song of Work by Carol Grimes has a vigour and improvised complexity that recalls The Shouting Fence. Yet the musical heart of the Shout remains in Gough's substantial compositions and arrangements, including Saltwater Laments, Personent Hodie and an intense, raw treatment of I Saw Three Ships.

No beer and bright lights.

No place could be as bad as this.

They said we’d have a ball

Would you rather be another place with me?

This ain’t no fun at all - this ain’t no fun at all.

No beer and bright lights. No beer and bright lights.

Hey you would you take my advice?

Don't wanna feel this bad

I’ve been there once don't wanna make it twice

Feels like I’ve been had. Feels like I’ve been had.

Seems we need to make a move.

Well, wouldn't you agree?

It ain’t happening, it ain’t happening

Tell me, don’t you see?

Tell me, don’t you see?

Chain gang by [email protected]

Lush Life.

The s t o n e ©

a stone, a frozen stone,

a watching, careful stone.

hard.

seeing, hearing stone.

deep, deeper down you do not touch.

lying, impenetrable.

cold, you do not touch it, silent, you do not hear it.

it's as hard as the ground in a north country winter.

drop it it will not crack,

no back to snap.

no shadow will be cast,

it is a dark place

kick this stone it will make no sound,

ice around the heart of a stone.

rage at this stone is will give no reaction,

ice around the heart of the stone.

a stone cannot bruise, a stone cannot sob,

a stone will never be hurt.

drop it in the dark and deepest of seas,

and only a ripple, a splash

as it sinks to the bottom of the world, in silence..

Heroin. @ Deptford 2006

Annihilate me.

Numb my mind.

Fill my veins

with a smoke screen.

Drip Drip Drip feed me.

Let it slowly take me to a warm soft and silent place.

I do not recognise this hand.

My body was in pain. Now my mind is indifferent.

I do not care where I am. Abandon me here.

I am warm. I taste no tears. I feel no - I feel no -

I feel nothing. I am sinking into dark, dark velvet in silent ecstasy.

Outside has no meaning. Inside I am hollow.

My bones are soft.

All senses blurred.

I exist in tenebrous light.

Suspended, held in slow motion.

I do not recognise this hand.

Here in this impenetrable place, alone. I celebrate, looking with sleepy eyes through smoked glass

At last. I am at peace. I do not recognise these hands.