That Damned Elsewhere / EP /

by The Huge |Plomitallo|

/
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    This album contains five songs from five poems. They all try to lead the listener to a place called elsewhere, away from he or she is.

     

1.
2.
03:13
3.
4.
5.
6.
03:33

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released June 16, 2010

All songs written and performed by The Huge
Lyrics:
track 1 Katherine Fall Pettey
track 2 Anne Brontë
track 3 E.E. Cummings
track 4 Jack Thorpe
track 5 John Donne

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The Huge |Plomitallo| Italy

The Huge is a song writer. Music is his greatest passion. He started playing and writing songs at the age of 8 after a beautiful childhood he enjoyed in the south of Italy. In a few years, he has developed a very personal style, always rethinking the artistic approach to his work. He loves taking photographs and shooting videos, as he considers these closely related to his former passion, drawing. ... more

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Track Name: Morning On The Desert
Morning on the Desert

Morning on the desert, and the wind is blowin' free,
And it's ours jest for the breathin', so let's fill up, you an' me.
No more stuffy cities where you have to pay to breathe—
Where the helpless, human creatures, throng, and move, and strive and seethe.

Morning on the desert, an' the air is like a wine;
And it seems like all creation has been made for me an' mine.
No house to stop my vision save a neighbor's miles away,
An' the little 'dobe casa that berlongs to me an' May.

Lonesome? Not a minute: Why I've got these mountains here;
That was put there jest to please me with their blush an' frown an' cheer.
They're waitin' when the summer sun gets too sizzlin' hot—
An' we jest go campin' in 'em with a pan an' coffee pot.

Morning on the desert! I can smell the sagebrush smoke;
An' I hate to see it burnin', but the land must sure be broke.
Ain't it jest a pity that wherever man may live,
He tears up much that's beautiful, that the good God has to give?

"Sagebrush ain't so pretty?" Well, all eyes don't see the same;
Have you ever saw the moonlight turn it to a silv'ry flame?
An' that greasewood thicket yonder—well, it smells jest awful sweet
When the night wind has been shakin' it; for smells it's hard to beat.

Lonesome? well, I guess not! I've been lonesome in a town.
But I sure do love the desert with its stretches wide and brown;
All day through the sagebrush here, the wind is blowin' free.
An' it's ours jest for the breathin', so let's fill up, you and me.

by Katherine Fall Pettey, from Songs from the Sage Brush, 1910

http://www.cowboypoetry.com
Track Name: Dreams
Dreams
(1845)

While on my lonely couch I lie,
I seldom feel myself alone,
For fancy fills my dreaming eye
With scenes and pleasures of its own.
Then I may cherish at my breast
An infant's form beloved and fair,
May smile and soothe it into rest
With all a Mother's fondest care.

How sweet to feel its helpless form
Depending thus on me alone!
And while I hold it safe and warm
What bliss to think it is my own!

And glances then may meet my eyes
That daylight never showed to me;
What raptures in my bosom rise,
Those earnest looks of love to see,

To feel my hand so kindly prest,
To know myself beloved at last,
To think my heart has found a rest,
My life of solitude is past!

But then to wake and find it flown,
The dream of happiness destroyed,
To find myself unloved, alone,
What tongue can speak the dreary void?

A heart whence warm affections flow,
Creator, thou hast given to me,
And am I only thus to know
How sweet the joys of love would be?
Track Name: Somewhere I Have Never Travelled
Somewhere I Have Never Travelled

E. E. cummings (1931)


somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
Track Name: The Hell-Bound Train
The Hell-Bound Train

(1921)

Heard this sung at a cow-camp near Pontoon Crossing,
on the Pecos River, by a puncher named Jack Moore.

A Texas cowboy lay down on a barroom floor,
Having drunk so much he could drink no more;
So he fell asleep with a troubled brain,
To dream that he rode on a hell-bound train.

The engine with murderous blood was damp,
And was brilliantly lit with a brimstone lamp;
An imp for fuel was shoveling bones,
While the furnace rang with a thousand groans.

The boiler was filled with lager beer,
And the Devil himself was the engineer;
The passengers were a most motley crew
Church member, atheist, Gentile and Jew.

Rich men in broadcloth, beggars in rags,
Handsome young ladies, withered old hags.
Yellow and black men, red, brown and white,
All chained together -- O God, what a sight!

While the train rushed on at an awful pace,
The sulfurous fumes scorched their hands and face;
Wider and wider the country grew,
As faster and faster the engine flew

Louder and louder the thunder crashed,
And brighter and brighter the lightning flashed;
Hotter and hotter the air became,
Till the clothes were burnt from each quivering frame.

And out of the distance there arose a yell,
"Ha, ha," said the Devil, "we're nearing hell!"
Then, oh, how the passengers shrieked with pain,
And begged the Devil to stop the train.

But he capered about and danced with glee,
And laughed and joked at their misery.
"My faithful friends, you have done the work,
And the Devil never can a payday shirk.

"You've bullied the weak, you've robbed the poor,
The starving brother you've turned from the door;
You've laid up gold where the canker rust,
And you have given free vent to your beastly lust.

"You've justice scorned and corruption sown,
And trampled the laws of nature down;
You have drink, rioted, cheated, plundered, and lied,
And mocked at God in your hell-born pride.

"You have paid full fare, so I'll carry you through;
For its only right you should have your due.
Why, the laborer always expects his hire,
So I'll land you safe in the lake of fire --

"Where your flesh will waste in the flames that roar,
And my imps torment you forever more."
Then the cowboy awoke with an anguished cry,
His clothes wet with sweat and and his hair standing high.

Then he prayed as he'd never had prayed till that hour
To be saved from his sin and the demon's power.
And his prayers and pleadings were not in vain;
For he never rode the hell-bound train.

traditional, from Songs of the Cowboys, 1921
Track Name: Air And Angels
John Donne

Air and Angels (from)
(1633)

Twice or thrice had I loved thee,
Before I knew thy face or name;
So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame,
Angels affect us oft, and worshipped be;
Still when, to where thou wert, I came,
Some lovely glorious nothing I did see.
But since my soul, whose child love is,
Takes limbs of flesh, and else could nothing do,
More subtle than the parent is
Love must not be, but take a body too;
And therefore what thou wert, and who,
I bid love ask, and now
That it assume thy body I allow,
And fix itself in thy lip, eye, and brow.
Track Name: Unfortunate
Unfortunate
Rupert Brooke


HEART, you are restless as a paper scrap
That's tossed down dusty pavements by the wind;
Saying, "She is most wise, patient and kind.
Between the small hands folded in her lap
Surely a shamed head may bow down at length,
And find forgiveness where the shadows stir
About her lips, and wisdom in her strength,
Peace in her peace. Come to her, come to her!"...

She will not care. She'll smile to see me come,
So that I think all Heaven in flower to fold me.
She'll give me all I ask, kiss me and hold me,
And open wide upon that holy air
The gates of peace, and take my tiredness home,
Kinder than God. But, heart, she will not care.

1912