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Chopping Board

by Jack Elias

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1.
When these eyes are king no more And they're done with watching Everything I love die in my arms I hope everything you love dies in yours When these eyes are king no more And they have gazed on all things Everything I love will thrive in my arms I hope everything you love dies in yours
2.
Chronicle 04:57
As ugly as magic your skin is so fair And your body that was lied to is now practiced in the custom Of going to the river and washing your hair And reading the chronicle of eyelids from cover to cover And then cross-dress your sorrows with cheer While the river does its thing with the water and the fish in mid-air Well I must be devoted to feel so near A stones throw away now from you my beloved But as the stone passes through the air Can feel my heart begin to languish and flicker Or words to that effect just only a lot quicker Between the water and the river I'd do well to remember your tears Is it better to betray than to inbreed To pierce the yoke with barbed eyelashes And dip my brush in every riverine And wear the cloth that always clashes How I love these hessian sashes They go with nothing when nothing goes with me
3.
Athlete 04:28
I’m last in a phase of useless feats What follows will determine the light, The summit, the trenches, the lulls and the peaks, The rainbow that bankrolls the night I am an athlete of boredom And the muzzle that I wear is stained with breath And the knots in its sails are sighs And I die from having to suffer less And I suffer from what that feels like I am an athlete of boredom And unlike the athletes of death Whose bodes are summoned to strike Who shift their weight back to the flesh And then ram its head down on a spike I am an athlete of boredom I imagine less and I imagine least of all And then something else besides A tremor, a pause, a ripple, a feast, An almond that clings to the knife I am an athlete of boredom
4.
My countryman’s murder will soon be your grave As you fought us together I have every faith That together you will die for the sins of your weight And the god that I love will look upon evil Evil is old bread Eat it to stay alive But not to be well fed Evil is old bread In sickness and horror we fled to the north We fled to the mountains where our fathers walked They knew that this world did not owe them their thoughts And that both doors are open to call upon evil Evil is old bread Eat it to stay alive But not to be well fed Evil is old bread To what degree now I know of so far Always behind the sun we are And behind the sun is a dog’s behind That begs to turn the other cheek Evil is old bread Eat it to stay alive But not to be well fed Evil is old bread
5.
6.
Oblivion 04:49
Arise, let’s go sing your love for other open ended worlds, and then pin it back into its holster Let’s sing of oceans and the fate of whims and doggy tins and oil spills that map your heart’s low gaze And let’s sing your way out of the burning book that signs our names with a minus sign And be born again To dream a brittle dream And lose a little steam And save your crumbs for a curly day And when lightning lights in a blue sky To build a thing that stays O’oblivion I’m saving my hush money for you What simon says is to avoid men who resume great hope to back the world into a corner With hands on your shoulders and magic markers behind your ear to help you feed and clothe yourself And with sticks and snot, and with springs and spindles and all that mingles, to restore the space beneath your mother’s skirt And be born again To dream a brittle dream And lose a little steam And save your crumbs for a curly day And when lightning lights in a blue sky To build a thing that stays O’oblivion I’m saving my hush money for you
7.
Finch 03:11
When the finch runs foul of the gust And it kicks a big stench And so say all of us And you say dear brother, where are you? And he hands you back the icy cusp And so say all of us And I eat from a bird that won’t sing And I cry a boutique And when birds of a feather flock To greener pastures All I ask is for you not to count me in I eat from a bird that won’t sing When the finch runs foul of the gust And it kicks a big stench And so say all of us And the lord is our shepherd, and his good son Died on a hyphen and not the cross And so say all of us
8.
It fell on it’s ear And from one wet surface to another I steered My father’s tomb to the shores of the moon And the many moons behind But now you are his from behind And I wish you were mine It’s common and it’s clear You told me to fear the devil in all things round To put land on my feet And to sing words to sleep And to dust them with two coats of lime But now you’re his from behind And if prior to here There was no atmosphere Just the sparks that want to fly When you break in old shoes It’s outrageous to lose a farmer before the morning milking No, I never stood a chance But it’s never too late to miss what will never be mine Now you’re his from behind
9.
Put back the shame into my heart and pour every care onto my neck And drag me by my ankle bones to the god-awful end of the stick O’ lord let me be your chopping board So that I can then come to swallow your sword wholly I have now the heart lord, the sap and the fiber to receive your blows So let your sword swing free and your stones hover ’til I’m weathered in woe O’ lord let me be your chopping board So that I can then come to unpack your word slowly
10.
I like it when a song goes down I like the small noise it makes It’s like catching up with old friends On the bottom of the lake And when a song goes down and loses it’s song I’ve learnt not to be slow to sing and go down And fall in with friends who hide drains in their voices And thirst for the things that are gone I like it when a song goes down I like the small noise it makes It’s like catching up with old friends On the bottom of the lake And so drown out your voices and cast down your song And set a place at the table for the hole in your plate ‘Cause great is the heart, the heart that sinks When the webbed hand of the lord drags the lake

about

As clear as mud, Chopping Board’s simple, ancient sound presents as a cicatrice without suture, a treasure tonic for the intuitive digger (or coffee cup reader).

Listen down.

credits

released April 3, 2014

Musicians:
Sonia Zadro: Vocals
Anna McInerney: Violin

Mixed by Robert Irish
Photographs by Eiko Bravo

ALL SONGS COPYRIGHT © 2014 JACK ELIAS

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Jack Elias Sydney, Australia

Jack Elias is the death star of folksong poetry. From the more discordant ramblings of Quaoub (what Elias formerly toured Europe under), comes Chopping Board, the first vinyl release from this Lebanese-Australian songwriter via Spence, Cohen, Prince Billy and Baier cut live from an Erskineville lounge room. ... more

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