There’s no such thing as the Hepburns

by The Hepburns

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    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    Includes illustrated PDF booklet with lyrics, song notes by Matt Jones, sleeve notes by Frank Discussions, and discography.
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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Includes illustrated lyric sheet with song notes by Matt Jones, sleeve notes by Frank Discussions.

    Includes unlimited streaming of There’s no such thing as the Hepburns via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 2 days
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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    By way of apology to those who prefer compact discs, we have a few dozen of the CDR promotional edition available. While not quite up to Radio Khartoum's usual CD packaging standards (jewel case alert!), it does include an illustrated 16-page booklet with lyrics, song notes by Matt Jones and a sleeve note by Frank Discussions. In fact, it includes several illustrations that the vinyl doesn't, including that damned, obligatory cat and catalogue thing that has dogged our last four Bügelfrei-designed releases.

    2 copies left.

    Includes unlimited streaming of There’s no such thing as the Hepburns via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 2 days

      £10 GBP or more 

     

1.
01:33
The time for talk is over Cos talk is cheap, no matter how dear The time for talk is over The silence is here I don’t need words to reach you Cos you are always near I don’t need words to reach you The silence is here
2.
There’s a place called Little London Upon the hill above me There’s a row of council houses there That overlooks the sea There’s a place called Little London I can confirm the rumour But whoever called it Little London Had a sense of humour It represents an optimism Now sadly departed Plans for a party That never got started Have you been to Little London? I wouldn’t recommend it I bought a postcard But I don’t think I will send it It’s more like a miniature Of some awful disaster It’s the timid younger brother Of a stern taskmaster It’s like a memorial To victims of the class war A second-rate cenotaph In a woeful Whitehall There’s a place called Little London A secret place that I found, There’s a row of council houses there That overlooks wasteground, although I’m not so sure that anybody’s Looking at the view because it May be a reminder of The things they’ll never say or do It’s like a memorial To victims of the class war A second-rate cenotaph In a woeful Whitehall We are living After the Lord Mayor’s Show
3.
Black trampoline beside an old bay window Black trampoline wherever I go, we go Because of fear I have not lived my life to the full Not like you my reckless other, still so wild, so beautiful Black trampoline when you were up there flying All I could see was that you were in danger of dying Black trampoline the girls always loved you I shielded my eyes and stared into the blue sky above you Black trampoline I will prevail and carry off the spoils Black trampoline whilst you inhale peroxide fumes in silver foils Black trampoline beside an old bay window Black trampoline wherever I go, we go
4.
03:03
I need a white dog to keep me company I need a white dog to keep watch over me When you’re feeling lonely or you’re in a jam It’s good to know there’s someone there to hold your hand I need a white dog to keep me company I need a white dog to keep watch over me Conversations are all well and good But words are just one way of making yourself understood When you’re feeling lonely or you’re in a jam It’s good to know there’s someone there to hold your hand Long-winded conversations are all well and good But words are just one way of making yourself understood He’s the one who picks me up when things go wrong So I thought I’d commemorate that pale hound in a song He’s my white dog, he keeps me company He’s my white dog, he keeps watch over me
5.
Watching a clip of Jerry Reed On the Porter Wagoner Show He plays a version of ‘The Wabash Cannonball’ There goes the Wabash Cannonball Taking me back to when I was small After the applause dies down The host requests another song ‘That blues thing’ says Wagoner Reed starts playing the intro To ‘Hallelujah I Love Her So’ His playing really is sublime But he is running out of time The second verse has just begun When the advertisements come on ‘Hallelujah, I Love Her So’ Is in perpetual limbo Is in perpetual limbo The in-between, the got-nowhere-to-go And as for Reed himself Stuck on a never-ending shelf Marooned between the first chorus and A never-to-be second verse A never-to-be second verse A never-to-be second verse Is this what awaits all of us? Stuck in perpetual limbo The in-between, the got-nowhere-to-go
6.
03:27
I’ve seen you walking around Upon the outskirts of this old town Your spiky copper-coloured hair That has seldom seen the sun I often wonder what it’s like To only ever see the world by moonlight The yellows, oranges and reds Replaced by silvers, blues and whites All muffled and mute The sounds and colours of the day Here comes a solitary flute As blazing trumpets fade away I’ve seen you walking around Upon the outskirts of this old town Getting bolder by the day But still you have to go to ground Do you ever wonder what it’s like To walk around these busy streets in daylight? Peering from the undergrowth Always ready to take flight You’re leaving your scent In midnight places where silently you went Hey foxy where do you go when the sun rises? I’d really like to know
7.
The path to the beach is in shadow I feel the cold sand under my shoe Walking into winter sunlight When I get home I’m going to write The life of a wave, yeah, the life of a wave At first, a swell in the shallows Then a dark line as it starts to grow Turns translucent in winter sunlight From black to jade green then to coral white The life of a wave, yeah, the life of a wave The path to the beach is in shadow A razor clam under my shoe Just like the dogs, just like the sea Moments of glory swallowed up by infinity The life of a wave, yeah, the life of a wave
8.
02:25
Rainwater in an oil drum The traces of what was yet to come Gordon’s Jackson’s wispy hair Getting blown out of the Xpelair A combat jacket and a walkie-talkie Ageing popstars getting porky It’s the moment that we’ve all been dreading In a former football player’s pub just outside Reading We are everywhere, although We didn’t make much of a splash We are lodging in your spare Getting thrown out with the trash I swear I could discern The makings of a future bubble perm Keith Barron on a makeshift raft A fine example of the actor’s craft These fragments of pop history Are actually pieces of you and me It’s the moment that we’ve all been dreading In a former football player’s pub just outside Reading With the trash
9.
Conversation Robot, what big metal ears you’ve got The better to appreciate my narration About a boy who’s on probation For stealing cars in a one-horse town After his brother got himself sent down Now there was a man with a mission But he did he do what he did of his own volition, Conversation Robot? Did he orchestrate the ruination of the Welfare State? You can’t blame him for being greedy When the rich and the powerful trample on the needy However they spin it they couldn’t care less But we’ve all got a hand in this dreadful mess Conversation Robot, it’s such a gas Radix malorum est cupiditas Conversation Robot, you can acquiesce or you can put me on the spot A growing sense of apprehension When you’re only fifteen years away from your pension Middle-aged on the minimum wage Looking down the barrel of a twelve-gauge Conversation Robot, it’s such a gas Radix malorum est cupiditas Conversation Robot, I’m ready for this conversation Even if you’re not
10.
04:07
When you die can I have your money? When you die can I have your honey? Cos you’re not going to need them where you’re going, sonny When you die can I have your attitude? And you can have my eternal gratitude I swear I’ll take good care of your winning ways and easy manner If it’s all the same to you I’ll move into your flat Although I’m not too sure about your cat Your taste in books and music stinks You wouldn’t know a decent painting if it fell on you, methinks When you die can I have your jacket? It’s a Paul Smith one, it must have cost a packet I’ll be here for the duration but I’m not sure you can hack it When you die can I have your girlfriend? When you die can I tie your loose end? There’ll be time to spend and broken hearts to mend You old misanthrope you got no hope You’re permanently poised upon the slippery slope If the sins of the father are visited on the son Then it’s difficult to imagine what your father must have done You old misanthrope you got no hope You’re permanently poised upon the slippery slope If the sins of the father are visited on the boy Your father must have been a right...killjoy If it’s all the same to you I’ll move my stuff in now And do all the things that your girlfriend won’t allow Then you can stop and think about the dog’s life you’ve been led And maybe come to the conclusion that you’d be better off dead
11.
I don’t mind working weekends, I don’t mind working nights I’m just getting going when you’re putting out the lights I don’t mind working weekends although I’d rather not Not when the weather’s sunny, not when it’s hot, hot, hot Are we going to the seaside Or maybe to the lakes? Are we going to the seaside, Where the white water breaks? Are we going to the seaside Can I jump in the boot? I’ll make a little nest for myself Amongst all your loot I’ve been cooped up here for ages, trapped in my little bubble Can I come away with you? I won’t be any trouble I’ll pretend to tie my shoelace if we should meet a friend I don’t want to be a nuisance, I don’t want to offend Are we going to the seaside Or maybe to the lakes? Are we going to the seaside, Where the white water breaks? Are we going to the seaside I want to see the sights Show me fun and laughter Show me the bright lights... I’m the school caretaker with the dodgy ticker I’m the condensation on the barrel of the Vickers I’m the Super 8 as it flashes and it flickers I’m the evacuee, the boy from the blitz The diabolical stench from the sulphur pits I’m the threadbare seats in the Rialto and the Ritz I’m the pain in your eyes when you realise it’s still daylight Are we going to the dancehall? I want to see the fights Show me fun and laughter Show me the bright lights
12.
03:09
It’s only hocus pocus, a little sleight of hand All the props are plywood, the laughter is canned It’s really rather foolish, I know it’s a cliché But this isn’t a novel, I’m not writing a screenplay Every time you leave me my heart tightens like a fist We didn’t go to the gig but we were on the ghost list It’s really rather foolish, I know it’s a cliché But this isn’t a novel, I’m not writing a screenplay ...but if I did... The poster would have your name on it Because you’ve got what it takes You’d be wearing a bonnet like Marlon Brando in 'The Missouri Breaks' It’s only hocus pocus, a little sleight of hand All the props are plywood, the laughter is canned I saw the dawn light turn you a kind of deathly white It prised me open like a door, I walked into the night I saw the dawn light turn you a kind of ghostly white It prised me open like a door. You look just like you used to look before

about

Small-town tales of disintegration, existential limbo, and the dismantling of the welfare state glide on a languid and blissful projection of Bacharach lightness and easy-listening charm. The dramatis personae include foxes, white dogs, a half-human half-trampoline, and conversation robots. It’s sunshine pop of the palest order.

Radio Khartoum MHZ116

credits

released January 27, 2017

Matt Jones: guitar and vocals
Mike Thomas: bass
Cris Haines: brass
Pete Mason: drums and percussion
Pat Grover: harmonica

Additional instruments played by Anthony Rochester

Written by Matt Jones
Recorded by Mike Thomas in Llanfynydd
Produced by Anthony Rochester in Hobart

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about

The Hepburns Wales, UK

The Hepburns are a Welsh indie band from Llanelli, South-West Wales. They have recorded ten albums, two EPs, one single, and three BBC sessions and have been signed to Berkeley-based label Radio Khartoum since 1999. They toured the United States and Scandinavia in 2007. 'There’s No Such Thing as The Hepburns', their tenth studio album, is due for release on 29 January 2017. ... more

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