Evening Sounds

by Jake Shane

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1.
The All Night Boys Valley stretched out like the ancient spine Of a King James Bible stained with Sunday wine And the stars exhale over Granada A darker, an older sonata Water kneeling, rising, chanting on rocks Under the blown up bridge with all the rusted locks Your heart started hard as the temple columns But that didn’t keep the kingdom from falling And the all night boys with their melodies Hanging to the walls of the narrow streets Blood orange boughs bow in weighted silence As the air is thickened with a cavalry of violence And the bride with a kerchief in her hands The groom’s razor blade in the river sand She dreams of gypsies tying, taking Jacob To a sea of reeds just before she wakes up And the stars exhale over Granada A darker, an older sonata And the all night boys with their melodies Hanging to the walls of the narrow streets
2.
04:29
Visions The room was quiet and warm Almost as if there were no storm Limbs bent about to spill Against the pane and windowsill Rain stones wrote their poetry As we hunted the mystery Ay ay ay ay, ay ay ay, ay ay White light of the new moon shone Just like jasmine on unhewn stone Isaac touched his cheek to it To see if he still could submit The consecrated blade on his knee As he hunted the mystery Ay ay ay ay, ay ay ay, ay ay Curtains rose as windows cracked The night began its final act You unwound a lullaby Words replaced by deepening sighs Your chest was a rising sea As we hunted the mystery Ay ay ay ay, ay ay ay, ay ay
3.
The Upper Sun Old men amble through the park With hands held behind their backs Or else they cast fishing lines And reel in all the slack Fortune tellers tilt their heads To remember all the refrains Pigeons perch on outstretched palms And cards curl with the coming rain You walk by with the afternoon The upper sun in your hair I recognize your face Seen you here twice this week Once in the crystal palace Once near the almond trees If I see you once again I swear I’ll fall to my knees Senegal men lean on iron Rails of the rowboat lake The saxophone marches in With the dancing man in skates Gypsy women carry rosemary Pressed against their chests Boys and girls roll around For hours without a rest You walk by with the afternoon The upper sun in your hair I recognize your face Seen you here twice this week Once by the fallen angel Once near the library If I see you here again I swear I’ll fall to my knees
4.
03:27
Seascape Burial clouds are descending The captain tells you to be brave But cliffs are impending, bulwarks bending, And the hull is digging a grave Dogs are howling in the bay But St. Brendan has gone away St. James can’t show you the way And St. John don’t work on Sundays Painters will paint wild oceans Singers will sing of the waves But only a sailor knows the motions Of a ship that cannot be saved Dogs are howling in the bay But St. Brendan has gone away St. James can’t show you the way And St. John don’t work on Sundays
5.
The Lights Go Out She was washing the dishes and singing with the water Yellow gloves rubbing the rhythm of her lyric I held a cloth as she turned to me and said When I see beauty I always feel melancholic And her lives above Painting boats a chestnut shade And this is my favorite part When the lights go out She was searching for books in a room of thousands Distant music mining under a dark landscape She brought down two poets, turned to me and said It’s April—read this sepulcher, then these sonnets to escape And her skies above Staring west at Jupiter And this is my favorite part When the lights go out She was playing a Chopin waltz on the untuned R.S. Howard Black red white ribbon bobbing in her tangled harp-string hair Her arms were waves of light and I thought I heard Her whisper about beauty falling from the air And her treasures above All hidden in the broken bed And this is my favorite part When the lights go out
6.
Before Winter You leaned over the rocks Soaking the white sheet in water Echoes of light on your dress Echoes of night in your sigh You watched the boys in the stream Swim toward their childhood dreams And you wished it were just as it seemed... But you say it’s only a matter of time Before winter, and the curtains are closed He stood on the hill with his paints Brushing the sun in your hair The breath of the wind on his vest The breath of your body in his eyes He watched you wringing the sheet The streams of water on your feet And he dreamed of the day you would meet... But you say it’s only a matter of time Before winter, and the curtains are closed They lay on the warm river rocks Counting the wet cotton clouds The echo of a breath on their chests The breath of an echo from behind They watched you turn toward the hill Your body a slave to your will And you stood with the white sheet so still… But you say it’s only a matter of time Before winter and the curtains are closed
7.
The Grinding Stone I stand in this room all alone Turning the grinding stone It leaves palettes of dust on the hardwood floor To be swept in one sweep out the door Crickets scratch out a moan Lemon leaves swing in undertones And the delicate webs of the night are sewn To make it all seem a bit less hollow So much work still remains And yet what is there to gain? Well it’s getting late now and anyway I count in hours not in days I look for the boundary line Between the real and divine On the edge of the edge of the blade I grind I feel it from time to time The rumor of horses spreads fast Along the hedgerow then the grass They are coming four to take me at last From this room this stone this task But so much work still remains And yet what’s really to gain? Well it’s getting late now and anyway I count in hours not in days
8.
Evening Sounds As the olives are slowly pressed Up against the metal twilight Church bells ask for answers And the village dogs contesting While hammered strings climb cedar beams To where Cecilia’s sons are resting And chiming in some chimney swifts Shadows streaming past the western window And oh, the white-washed houses hold The last of the country’s light And evening sounds are filling up These rooms that were once so bright Wind and dust form silver bows That sweep over waves of Spanish pages And the feather ink pen trembles Like a sail its ropes drawn taut While the needle spirals the circle slate Slowly unwinding the knots She is sitting in her mermaid chair Looking for the faded meadow But oh, the white-washed houses hold The last of the country’s light And evening sounds are filling up These rooms that were once so bright One by one the dogs lay down Their jaws on paws in cherry groves And the shadows swing suspended Over the bed of her sleeping sons While strings, ropes, and knots are slacked And the church bells have rung out of questions The wind is sinking beneath the waves And the olives completely swallowed And oh, the white-washed houses fold Deep into the country night Leaving evening sounds to fill up The rooms of our dreams tonight
9.
The Blacksmith Like the blacksmith with his hammer I just want you to give a little But you’re as hard as any anvil And it’s breaking my will Well I followed you like you told me Past the brick tobacco buildings To the hilltop threshing floor But you wanted, you wanted more Mountains melted into flocks of Sheep and I felt just like one I waited for you until the fall You didn’t care, care at all Like the blacksmith with his hammer I just want you to give a little But you’re as hard as any anvil And it’s breaking my will
10.
Birds Flew On By I found you below Slowly drinking the fig tree’s shadow You showed me how the river Had cut the cliff so steep so low With your hands spread wide Like the village on the mountainside You took the air prisoner Then you opened your mouth and sighed And the birds flew on by Flew on by, bye Four a.m. woke me With buckskin drums crossing the valley You were still dancing on cobblestones Covered in melted wax and sherry I found you below Singing sacred songs in the meadow The daughters of the wilderness Told me again to let you go And the birds flew on by Flew on by, bye

about

"Jake Shane's songs take us into a space populated by saviors and strangers, situated somewhere between minute particulars and eternity. His voice yearns and seeks, and his language is as fresh and original as it is beguiling. By turns plaintive, rollicking, mystic, celebratory, Jake's music channels the spirit of blues and folk traditions while breathing new life into the old forms. His characters are often familiar; the stories are his." Emir Parrotta


"Jake Shane's album Evening Sounds neatly blends folk, Americana and even some Spanish influences from his time in Madrid in pleasant melodies with some clever lyrics on songs such as Before Winter and Seascape. An enjoyable listen." Martin Chilton, The Daily Telegraph.

credits

released March 13, 2015

Jake Shane - Guitar, Vocals
Sally Fazakerley - Background Vocals
Stephen Turney - Piano, Accordion, Additional Percussion
Ben Jones - Upright Bass
Ken Byers - Percussion

Produced, Engineered and Mixed by Stephen Turney
Recorded at The Treehouse in Nashville, Tennessee
Mastered by Alex McCollough at Yes Master
Additional recording by James ‘Jamp’ Phelan in Madrid, Spain

Cover photo by Bonita Beil
Guitar made by Juan Álvarez in Madrid, Spain. 
All songs written by Jake Shane

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Jake Shane Madrid, Spain

Jake Shane is an American singer-songwriter based in Madrid, Spain.

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