David Whitwell

We are sorry for the disruption to your Myspace service today. In the meantime, here's a little music.

LYRICS TO THE SONGS

"When My Blues Retire"

The ballads of the birds
Greet the passing of the night
(Or that's what I've been told)
And I'm standing
By my window
But I'm staring
At the shadows on the floor.
When my blues retire
I will have to find another way to cry.

This artificial world
Leaves my conscience for a while
When I think of you.
I'm not begging you
To love me
As I rarely speak
The language very well.
When my blues retire
I will grow into the man I should have been.

I've four queens in my hand
But the blues have all the kings
And the dealer smiles.
Then he says
"You shouldn't ever gamble
"With the things
"That make you what you are."
When my blues retire
I will understand the meaning of his words.

Distracted by belief,
I propose a holy toast
To the drink I pour.
Here the whiskey
Tastes like honey
And the honey
Tastes like ancient autumn rain.
When my blues retire
It will be the first of April, that's for sure.

The sun begins to march
On its counterfeit parade
Across the faithful sky.
And the morning
Turns its back on time
And settles down in exile
With my heart.
When my blues retire
I will have to find another way to cry.

"Damp Vanilla Hair"

Last night's wine is tepid
The coffee's getting cold
I reach out for affection
There is no-one to hold
Welcome to another busy day
Of missing you

I try to read the paper
But your picture on the wall
Makes the headlines vanish
The paper slowly falls
More years have outplayed me since you died
And I'm counting

I'd run my modest fingers
Through your damp vanilla hair
As you telephoned your mother
On the dusty wooden stairs
Vanilla now unveils my tired tears
Like a traitor

Your spirit comes before me
In your favourite overcoat
The hood and collar missing
The zip and stitching broke
That's how beautiful and young you were
When death arrived

A wise old vicar told me
"Be strong but don't be sad
"You'll love her in your memory"
Memories are all I have
Can you see me darling as I call...

I miss you
I love you
But I can't reach for you
In the dawn's delight
I would give away my every dawn
To smell your hair again

Last night's wine is tepid
The coffee's getting cold
I reach out for affection
There is no-one to hold
Welcome to another busy day
Of missing you

"Porcelain Eyes"

My stranded heart is like a bookmark
Stuck in a novel that I can't read
And as I turn its crumpled pages
Chardonnay stains are all I see
Through porcelain eyes
(Don't ask me why)
And porcelain eyes will weep
When your beauty calls them
And rocks my fear to sleep.

Some eyes are wild and some are stable,
Some boys are proud and some disgraced.
Others, like me, just live to witness
Every contour of your face
With porcelain eyes
(Don't ask me why)
And porcelain eyes will move
When your beauty leaves them
Surrounded by the blues.

I know that I could be your lover,
You choose the ugly now and then.
From foreign angles we look handsome
And only these worthy kinds of men
Have porcelain eyes
(Don't ask me why)
And porcelain eyes will shine
When your beauty feeds them
The candy in your mind.

Two doves are fighting on my skylight
Over the olive branch of yours.
Their wings are souvenirs of travel,
Splinters and cracks run down their claws
Like porcelain eyes
(Don't ask me why)
And porcelain eyes will close
When your beauty sends them
To where the doves' song goes.

It has been said that love is sacred.
But only the sacred could agree?
But I won't appeal or even grumble,
I have my dreams to comfort me
And porcelain eyes
(Don't ask me why)
And porcelain eyes will break
When your beauty saves them
A hundred tears too late.

"Til I Fall"

I will sing for my soul til I fall
Even when there is no soul worth singing for
And I will play through the pain til I fall
Into gold or into dust for evermore.
I will cry and I will smile
Like a loner in denial
'Cause if I don't the time to fall is surely now.

I will seek the joyful dawn til I fall
As the blues are all my morning prayers befriend
And I will drift along the night til I fall
Unaware of what is howling at its end.
I will break and I will shine
For every traveller left behind
'Cause if I don't the time to fall is surely now.

I will dream about desire til I fall
Wondering why my nightmares hunger for the same
And I will long to be blessed til I fall
It is printed in the verses of the rain.
I will fight and I will hide
While my guilt and pride collide
'Cause if I don't the time to fall is surely now.

I will stroll past remorse til I fall
With the scenes of glory moving in my eyes
And I will float over grace til I fall
Down the canyon where the miracles grow high.
I will win and I will lose
On whichever path I choose
'Cause if I don't the time to fall is surely now.

I will try to be pure til I fall
Just like you who built the pillar in my heart
And I will always be close til I fall
Should this raging world explode your life apart.
I will catch and I will clear
The hurt and sadness in your tears
'Cause if I don't the time to fall is surely now.

I will sing for my soul til I fall
Even when there is no soul worth singing for
And I will play through the pain til I fall
Into gold or into dust for evermore.
I will cry and I will smile
Like a loner in denial
'Cause if I don't the time to fall is surely now.

"Torn Like The Shoreline"

Stroll by the ocean,
Comfort me one last time.
The sailor who calls you
Is sleeping on waves of wine.
Ask the tide that never changes
What it is it's looking for
And torn like the shoreline
I'll sing no more.

Symphony rain falls down
On the drowning sand.
I softly awake and yield
To your opal hands.
Yellow clouds collide above us
With the sun they loved before
And torn like the shoreline
I'll sing no more.

Voices of sirens
Melt into perfect blue.
I wait on the rocks
Just hoping they hear me too.
Then I spy you in the distance
As I slip my heart in yours
And torn like the shoreline
I'll sing no more.

Ships from redemption
Paint the horizon pale.
Currents of moonlight
Circle in magic veils.
And how far must anger travel
Til it finds itself adored?
And torn like the shoreline
I'll sing no more.

Soon I'll be going,
There's nothing left to say.
In life I'm unknown,
In death I will stay that way.
Will you keep my music playing
When I close the final door?
And torn like the shoreline
I'll sing no more.

Stroll by the ocean,
Comfort me one last time.
The sailor who calls you
Is sleeping on waves of wine.
Ask the tide that never changes
What it is it's looking for
And torn like the shoreline
I'll sing no more.

“Nazi Lady Waltz” (Demo)

Dear Rebecca, I'm much better.
Let me thank you for your letter.
It seems ages and these pages
Are the first ones since your rages.
My head's bowed as I recall that last row.
Anyhow, this is what I'm thinking now.

Nazi Lady, you were pretty
But your beauty was just a mask.
Nazi Lady, yes I'm lonely
But I've many more reasons to laugh.

You wore lipstick made of arsenic
When you waited in the clinic,
Waving knickers like swastikas
At the deadbeats and the slickers.
Then you said "There's something alive in my head"
As you led the doctor away to your bed.

Nazi Lady, have you lately
Given mercy to any men?
Nazi Lady, it's more likely
You were just psychopathic again.

In the twilight, I felt love-bites
On my neck but they were termites
. And that Pink Gin was disgusting,
One half Gordons, one half ricin.
When I dressed I chose a bulletproof vest.
Since you left I've failed a mental health test.

Nazi Lady, I'm still shaky
And my kidneys no longer work.
Nazi Lady, my bank's empty
And I've blood stains on every shirt.

But the focus of your malice
Was your mother, Amy Alice.
You put floor tacks in her tampax
And then dusted them with anthrax.
Then you threw napalm into her shampoo
For you knew she was far nicer than you.

Nazi Lady, you were filthy
But your duty is only fate.
Nazi Lady, I'm not angry
But I have a confession to make.

Nazi Lady, I don't really
Miss your body or the sex.
You see baby, I fucked Amy.
Yours Sincerely, Your Merry Ex.

(Video by Jonny Goode)

Friends, Myspace friends, relatives, strangers, stalkers, ex-lovers, drinking companions and comrades all.

There is no reason to be alarmed or to check that your ears are still lucid. The spiel that follows is here to formally announce that I’ve uploaded some new material. It’s been over four years since I recorded my debut album, “The Shadow of Song”, and I felt that it was about time the music player above was cleansed of its cobwebs and nostalgia. The new songs will form part of my forthcoming second release, "Squall Lines" (out later this year.)

(Artwork by Hayley-Jane Stanley .)

During the summer of 2008, I met up with my good friend Jonny Goode (one half of the excellent X Corvettes ) for drinks, laughs and moans. We spoke about music, life and whose turn it was to buy the next round. At one point, Jonny put forth the proposition that he was interested in recording some of my recent work and embellishing it with strings and other forms of accompaniment. I thought about it and later decided it was a great idea. With both Jonny and the wonderful Sally Lodge producing, we put the songs down in their home studio in Croydon over two days. So, what you are hearing now (provided Myspace hasn’t crashed) are the results of this project.

(Artwork by Hayley-Jane Stanley .)

The four new songs were written over a period of three years. I like to work swiftly as always, you see. “When My Blues Retire” marks an astounding transition in the alleged development of my guitar-playing because the tuning used is ‘Drop D’ rather than ‘Standard’. I am still recovering from the shock myself. The great Jackson C Frank was correct when he declared that the ‘blues run the game’. And, I solemnly believe, the blues may even subside – but at a time of their choosing. They won’t be killed or vanquished. They will decide to retire after years of cumbersome yet loyal service to their subject. If this song asks any questions they are these: “What will happen after they retire?” and “Can they be bothered to?”


I’m unsure when the lyrics to “Damp Vanilla Hair” were written – possibly the spring of 2005. If I write something that, for whatever reason, doesn’t fit in place then I drop it in one of two boxes: “Potential” or “Drivel”. Fortunately, I retrieved this song from the former. It needed a little rewriting and the small matters of melody and guitar-part. To my surprise, they did not elude me for too long. Now, I’m one of those songwriters that are sadly bewildered by sheet music and theory. I don’t know what a crotchet is; I don’t know what the black dots mean; and should you ask me to play the scales, I would most likely ask if I should remove the flour and butter from them first. My method is to stumble along the fretboard like a drunk across a high street until I arrive at a sound that appeals to me. I nervously performed “Damp Vanilla Hair” at this year’s Annual Nick Drake Gathering in Tanworth-in-Arden. During the interval, my friend James Edge (a sublime guitarist, writer and scientist of music) asked me about the song’s chord structure. I replied, “When you find out what it is will you tell me?”


“Porcelain Eyes” has been reincarnated in various forms. It was originally a lullaby. Then it mutated into a country song. Later still it disguised itself as twelve-bar-blues. But I was never happy with any of them. It was mainly because that although the image of “Porcelain Eyes” was one that had long fascinated me, I did not know what I was talking about – or what I actually wanted to say. Nothing new there then. The final attempt took two years to write. This process culminated in fifteen verses. But I thought that might be overdoing it slightly. So I picked five. I'd like to dedicate this song to my friend Gurdy who I met only recently while I was busking on The London Underground. Her touching words were the perfect antidote to the vibes of indifference I was getting at the time. It was also very flattering to be addressed down there by a lady who didn't have her fingers in her ears!


At a friend’s house party last year, I was apparently and surprisingly the least intoxicated out of those present so someone handed me a guitar. Desiring to be sociable, I sped through a few songs from my busking set; those that no other buskers play, like “Streets of London” for instance. One girl, whose name escapes me (I apologise if you’re reading this), wanted to hear an original of mine. I responded with, “Given that you’re all partying and enjoying yourselves, do you really think that’s a good idea?” Nevertheless, I played one or two. The same girl then asked, “Do you have any happy songs?” My answer was, “No, but I’ve got an optimistic one.” So I sang what was then the newly completed “Til I Fall”. If you were bored or disorientated enough to visit this page before, you may well have heard a live version of this song. But during that performance, I forgot the words to a verse and responded by stitching together various other lines and improvised one or two. That still troubles me to this day. Anyway, I can assure you that the “Til I Fall” available now is indeed fully-attired.


I have decided to retain on here an old acoustic song of mine, “Torn Like The Shoreline”, which was produced by Robert Bluesman and Paul Mallatrat in 2004. It pictures someone who is trapped between the land and the sea but, like the shoreline, is unsure of to which it belongs. I was willing to put this song aside to accommodate my recent material. However, due to a surreal chain of circumstances, the great Nick Cave has plans to record his own version of it at some point, which is flattering to say the least.


The final treat on the music player is a rough acoustic demo of "Nazi Lady Waltz". Our narrator has received a letter from a former girlfriend, Rebecca, who has fallen on hard times and is hoping to rebuild their turbulent relationship. The song is the narrator's reply, in which he nostalgically recalls Rebecca's past appetites for violence, torture and various other sadistic acts. In the finished studio version, the simple guitar strum will be replaced with a more traditional Viennese waltz sound. I am already looking forward to this song's interminable radio plays.


I do believe that is all I have to say for now. I've spent the start of 2009 editing the tracklist for "Squall Lines". During this tedious procedure, two older songs have been sacrificed for two newer ones. The running order is now finalised and I won't be fidgeting with it any longer. In April, I'll record a further four songs and there will be a third and final session after that. Spring promises to be a fruitful season! In between recording, you may bump into me busking on The London Underground, which I do for my lurid living. If you say hello, I'll buy you a drink! So until I provide the next update on "Squall Lines", here's a dollop of my new work and I hope it doesn’t spoil your day.

Best wishes

David Whitwell


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