Chief

by Warrilow

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1.
The Gallery 04:11
Are you one to look through a frame? Linger on the corners while the picture frays. Fade. The pencil fades, fractured by the day. Form an orderly line. Form up brothers. Are you one to stand knee-deep in rills? Sun at your neck, while your shoes fill. Still. The light is never still, fractured by the lake. Form an orderly line. Form up brothers.
2.
XXII 05:38
Rust. You’re Tied. Weed clamped wheels, waiting on a fine. Rust. you’re rusting for eyes. A cabaret of decay. may as well make use of time. Whiskers of paint shorn by a finger, like moving dust to find dust. Like digging soil for cinders. Trash for a battered picture. A woven path acts out paragraphs, a soliloquy through trees spoken to fast, and yet a battered tractor gives the woods a corner. Bed, far from home. A pointed hedge pricking like a duck-feather pillow. Bed. Rest up for the show and dream of straight lines in the sod. Machines will never note the throes. A coffin ship scuppered by sea-salt. Even the breeze corrodes. A flint-knapper taps, a stone sings its faults and it’s cast aside never to reach the vaults. You silence your sigh. So much depends on you.
3.
Rope Bridge 05:28
Waiting in the barley in the wind. Her hair a flicking flag across the sun-starved abyss. She whispers an elegy and curses the howling gap, But even her laments are poetry to the man this fissure trapped. He sang “I’ll make me a Rope Bridge. I’d hang my bones from each side. And although it’s my life I make it with, this chasm will never divide us again.” Words carried far lose nothing in the breeze. His smile set, lustrous amber free from the tree. Flightless on the promontory cleaved apart by time. Two cliffs alight in revelry, lovers linked for life.

about

Chief is a dedication to forgotten, battered and broken tractors in the corner of a field, to time spent gazing at rocks overturned by ancestors and to any lives cornered and wasted by media-taught convention.

If anything at all, Chief is a dedication to Warrilow’s late, great stepfather ‘Chief’ West, who taught him how to play, but unfortunately missed the beginning of Warrilow’s solo musical career.

credits

released May 25, 2015

Classical guitar, vocals, lead guitar, bass - Warrilow
Drums - Charlie Vasiliou

Recorded and produced by Liam Gaughan at Loft Studios, Newcastle-upon-Tyne.

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Warrilow Newcastle Upon Tyne, UK

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