esprit d'escalier

by Revelstoke

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released July 6, 2011

Written, Recorded, Mixed and Produced by: Andrew Seale
Additional help from: Stephen A. Beard (Mixing)
Artwork by: Andrew Seale

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Revelstoke Toronto, Ontario

Revelstoke is folk music played in an underwater city still trapped in the 40s using alien technology. Mini-symphonies built using a banjo, mandolin, violin bowed guitar with gentle poetic lyrics looped through a pedal. Abstract and dreamy.

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Track Name: For Those of You in Revelstoke!
"Who wants a world in which the guarantee that we shall not die of starvation entails the risk of dying of boredom?" — Raoul Vaneigem

Revelstoke was covered in snow,
and I dreamt of you when you were just a little boy.
Russian girls in Russian underpants
crawl south and wait for you to dance.
and i pictured you covered leaves
and i kissed you covered in leaves.

It took two hundred miles of power lines
just to watch the sunset in HD.
We had closed captioning in Spanish.
While I slept you sang to me.
There are a million worlds that are
there are a million that will never be
And I worry that this bed will never be made
will you still sleep in it with me?
Track Name: We Stood Staring at Lights
"If we had had more time for discussion we should probably have made a great many more mistakes." — Leon Trotsky

Undress your recollection
and the clothes you're swimming in.
We gather up our sunburns,
so tired of perfect skin.

See I wanted to impress you.
To pave the way through toothy grins.
I never asked for the attention,
just for needles and the pins.

Now we're underwater.
This is purgatory, I only sinned.
With their bathrobes and their jewelry
Here's to skin we're swimming in.

But the prison guard's asleep now,
and we've all got places to hide.
Once the moon dictates its game plan,
I'll just wait here for the tide.
Track Name: A Certain Artist's Judgement
"I wanted to speak the beautiful language of my century" — Guy Debord

The cigarettes they convinced me not to leave,
and you just stood around waiting for the applause.
What's permanent is permanent – "Just like the sun,"
that's what you said.

Adjust my tie and wait for the shivering of tectonics.
There will be a reason to settle down,
long after Antarctica apologizes.
You are the closest thing my chromosomes have to a friend.
Track Name: In My Own Defense
"All the truth in the world adds up to one big lie" — Bob Dylan

In my own defense, I waited for the fall of North Ontario.
Wearing my brother's pants, I watched the southern lakes begin to dance.
Oh the ghost of those who said "It would be all right" when we stood around his coffin.
And I tore the sleeve of my new shirt.
And you inquired about breakfast in bed.

We spun Catch a Fire on the stereo,
burned a joint and watched the cottage lights decay.
They came out with brand new geology,
some kind of land mass that wouldn't drift away.

So we made lose cultural references
to the Situationists of 1968.
And on and on you spoke of the beautiful things we couldn't save.
And on and on our bodies shake for, things we never could say anyway.
Track Name: It Will Be Difficult Now (la fête)
"We are unusual and tragic and alive" — Dave Eggers

Sockless in shoes, "Oh do I love you!"
sang the cobblestones of Old Montreal.
In your top-hat and grin, palm pressed to your chin,
I think I'll sit this one out until fall.

But the wolf pack is calling, the Berlin wall's falling,
"Sous le pave le plage, Adri!"
When the timing is right we'll catch an early flight,
join La Fete and trade our jobs for the sea.

But I've heard it before and I'll sit on this floor
until the shopkeepers close up their stores.
Give it some time, we'll flee this town
in air balloons our shoes off the floor.
Track Name: Roots that Curl like Lips
"Tell the children the truth" — Bob Marley

Old folks homes and other places you thought you wouldn't miss.
Like grocery bags and laundry smells and roots so old and tired they curled like lips.

To wait in line in Brooklyn clubs and sing of new prescriptions torn to bits.
And Steels grew out his hair for Dave and Jordashes foosball championships.

And it went like this:
I spilled my beer
Ashed on the chair
And we talked for miles
Like you were there.

But you weren't.
Track Name: Song for Anya (cause you can't be here)
"There's one thing to know about this town, it's five hundred miles underground, and it's okay" — Isaac Brock

Inspiration: 10,000 years of radiation in the soil of Chernobyl and driftwood at Sauble Beach.

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The folds in your neon windbreaker from August of '98.
Fishing through Russian dictionaries, while I pretend I'm asleep.
Now we're swimming in radiation it's under our skin
and the waves kiss your knobby knees you won't live past twenty three
so long to living past twenty three

(Where does the time go? it's all gone away)

I'm up on the radiator singing 'bout the Berlin wall
You're out on the streets watching the tabbies eat their kittens
we're coating our loved ones in lead and praying for rain.
where did all the time go? oh it's all gone away.