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credits

released March 19, 2017

Produced by The Inconsistent Jukebox

Barry Snaith - Guitars, words
Luciole Langevine - Voice, words

Renaud Deback - acoustic guitar & violin on L’Inhumanité
Alison Sheard - Guiro on Ali Bongo’s Bong
Richard Devine - Inspiration for Burning Embers Underwater
Oisin Connolly cello sample on Burning Embers Underwater
Barry Snaith - whistling & percusssion

Supersonic Publishing 2017

Art by Mothmeister www.etsy.com/uk/shop/mothmeister

www.theinconsistentjukebox.co.uk
FACEBOOK @ barrysnaithmusic
TWITTER @barrysnaith
inconsistentjukebox@gmail.com
soundcloud.com/luciole-langevine
soundcloud.com/richarddevine/hydrophone-recording-of

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THE INCONSISTENT JUKEBOX UK

Composer/guitarist/producer Barry Snaith.
Genre hopper. Influences range far and wide:
Captain Beefheart, Radiohead, Cindy Sherman, The Cocteau Twins, PJ Harvey, THE CLASH, Robert Fripp, Laurie Anderson, THE RAMONES, Guillermo del Toro, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, David Bowie, Joanna Newsom, Velvet Underground, Tarantino, Spanish Cinema, Portishead, David Lynch... all the unusual suspects ... more

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Track Name: L'Inhumanité
C'est le temps des naissances, le temps du renouveau
Des cœurs bourgeons gonflés d'une sève impatiente
C'est le cri des enfants qui courent vers la rivière
La frénésie joyeuse des insectes au soleil
C'est le chant des oiseaux au doux ventre du ciel
Le temps du rire des femmes
comme un alcool brûlant

Mais les hommes s'en vont
Comme si ne vibraient pas
Au profond de leur chair
Les appels à la vie

C'est le temps des désirs, des cordes qui se tendent
Des plaisirs qui jaillissent en explosions d'eau vive
C'est le temps des semailles et de tous les espoirs
Mais les hommes s'en vont

Mais les hommes s'en vont
Comme pris de folie
Et s'en vont avec eux
Tous ces bras pour aimer
Et ces mains pour construire
Mais les hommes s'en vont
Et s'en vont avec eux
Le son grave de leur voix
La flamme de leur regard
La promesse de l'avenir

Les enfants pleurent des pères qui seront des fantômes
Et les femmes sont seules au creux des lits trop vides

Ils sont partis les hommes
Armés de certitudes
Et de sceptres de mort
Ils avancent vers l'hiver
Et leur langue est gelée
Sous leurs peintures de guerre

Ils avancent
Et se perdent

Ils avancent et se perdent dans l'inhumanité
Track Name: Second WInd
When 'Home Sweet Home' is wearing thin.
When you feel the bones
Through the thickest skin.
When all your hope is full of holes.
When your bag of dreams has got punctures in...

How can you believe?
When there's no room to breathe
And all you swallow is vacuum.

You must hold it all in
Till you get your second wind
Then you blow it to your friends
In a kiss of life.
To break the spell.

Tell me, how is it you stay awake while the rest suffocate?
Track Name: Burning Embers Underwater
Under the white swirls
 and the smooth surface, hermetically closed, frozen in the lake,
 such as wireless puppets, posed on mud bed
. Staring eyes.

The glossy touch. Long brown algae 
and slow motion of the aquatic mass, 
viscous cold shroud 
enveloping flowage

.
This is where they have failed and sunk, 
taking with them their useless weapons. 


When small keys, 
the delicate spring will return to earth. 

When the conquering sun will dart 
golden rays
, its light sweetness, in the delivered water. 
When the banks will vibrate, 
watering the roots
 that the lake will shudder beneath butterflies wings 
and its blue mirror will stretch in an astounded O
 for diving birds.

When in its depths 
and out of sleep, 
the hungry fishes, 
scavengers, dark cleaners, lips curled over sharp razors 
in a rolling ballet, 
undulating fins 
and noxious bubbles
, will devour all the flesh of the lying bodies. 

It will remain of these foolish men 
under the sun, victorious sun, 
only pale bones, some yellow ivory
 and steel reflections.
Burning embers underwater
(I can hear seagulls sniggering).