We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Stay Cold

by Stalwart Sons

/
  • Streaming + Download

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

      $7 CAD  or more

     

1.
Good King 03:36
Good King (David Sings Before Saul) Good King can you hear my voice sound? Good King can you hear my strings resound? Good King witness your dominion all directions your eye sees is yours for keeping garret borders, all your land is alive We tend our piece we have been given piled gold on gold in the treasury provision surely goodness will be yours for all days Good King How your voice wields power a single word shall rend men to asunder may laurels ever grace your brow Even the trees fly peaceful flags and we cower underneath and shake like blue flame grey cloud would hold in spirit and bid you to stay cold stay cold So to rage at the night and hide yourself in dark, Save us wreathed in sheepskin against an burdening time where my strings to swerve your darkening sigh. I weep for my country I sing for my king Good King Born under the hammer shudder at the breezes and contemplate the seasons O Good king will your anger abed? ELABORATION: If we concede that every person is blessed with gifts, with a role, then they are duty bound to use those talents. One man is a King, another a shepherd. My role as a musician or poet then, if I am indeed gifted with song and words, I have no choice but to sing and create. The artist is blessed with insight and critique. The stepping up of militarism in our world is more than disconcerting, a problem far beyond my limited reach to correct. Perhaps it is not my place to make the decisions, the functioning of the country is not mine, but rather to sing my heart and hope beyond hope that it gets heard. David sings before Saul.
2.
A Lonely War 03:06
A Lonely War The stewards spread for miles and the rain to wash them down some when out from the mourning, we tipped our glass overflowing, drank whole at our weakness, the derricks bucking as they taunt: dig my ground, dig it dry 'til there's nothing left under your feet From out a poison tongue won't tease a sullen answer From out my grasping fingers the guitars all bled out While kids turn their faces to the sun black helicopters block the light I'll wave the cane at the shadows until I'm old and bent The Halloween generation sleeps shake the bed to rouse my sons If we spurn to conquer lost nations but we fight a lonely war such a lonely war ELABORATION: In an area of the world the wherein we can exploit a natural resource to its fullest, privileged to such a great degree, causing a huge influx of money to the province, but rarely to the places that need it. The loss, both environmental and moral, far outweighs the gains. The supposed benefit we see is fleeting; the idea of stewardship is one that is lost. How lonesome to be the only one to see the sun about to set, to see the desert coming.
3.
Wave More Flags Blowing out them landscape views sorry brethren, kissing days You speak of watchmen in the walls bored wars and black gold stains And in the Red Deer River flow washed out my shins an all Those grass stains announce sympathies ingrained in our youths The wild geese cut so gentle tastes like iron in my mouth and with the diving sparrow comes at the cross-wind blow deign failure is not of us then the believers move to wave more flags wave more flags We heard the wind bark orders rigid at attention pause underneath the washed-out colours I want them to be birthed anew. ELABORATION: Our country sets aside one day of the year, wherein the people paint their faces red and white and set fireworks off on Parliament hill, and the day after lose that fervour like amnesiacs. I am of a generation reared on Canada minutes and Terry Fox runs, yet even with these pains to unite the country under a banner, yet more often united in a collective apathy. Less a call for nationalist pride, but a pride in and of itself. A desire for a pride worth having. The ability to wave a flag, the ability to stand for something.
4.
Wolfspeak 02:40
Wolfspeak I raise my voice for the boy raised on wolfspeak and to cut my teeth to the sharp point of a widows peak The black river flow and the poison traps to lure us in put two sticks to each other dare best the cold cold cold I raise my view the smoke signal where my city used to be I would sing extinction songs such visions of things once seen every boreal kingdom every woven thread to the wrist tread cherished land constant swathes of antlers grace my path Stalk while my weakness staves God, bless me, I'm young when we howl it sounds like rage your howl sounds like rage ELABORATION: Wolves in Northern Alberta have been poisoned and shot in order to preserve Caribou populations which have been dwindling due to the loss of habitat as a direct result of tar sands development. A literal million was spent to balance an innocent symptom, yet fully ignored the cause of the problem. I feel a great solidarity with the wolf. Even that a song could cause as much change as a howl at the moon. Even in the futility of protest, the joy to raise one’s voice in anger.
5.
Hope Chest 03:08
Hope Chest We storm like kings because we are poor we dive like kamikaze crows We command like swords every word is an in axe in our hands salve to the creaky hinge We strike like boughs as if we don't break how we cover our heads We ring like bells as if we don't give watch our homes cleft in two We sigh like waves and hold our breath like so took bed sheets as our guard We hold like breaks as if we could heave how we cover our heads stave cool, draw blood, topple houses when they say that "we're rebuilding" locked to a ball & chain because you call it thus and with so much to give all this fiery want under precious vow and under resolute cause all this burning heart prepared I put it in my hope chest every single conjured change I put it in my hope chest ELABORATION: The institution of marriage, especially in hardcore circles, is met with derision. Broken homes and certain situations are seen as symptomatic, as if marriage itself were the problem, that relationships are rife for hurt. I see such strength in the people involved in this community, nothing is beyond their grasp. I believe that your life is yours to create. We have the ability to not run in our parent’s ruts, and repeat their mistakes. We have the ability to have loving relationships.
6.
True North 05:58
True North If you could set your legs to run, my dear past barbed wire or waving scarves If it is you who has seen the wind the whole horizon spreads forth The way you bend your tongue or make a shovel with your hands to dig for fire in the dry, dry ground as if to err or provide As if to dwell on solitudes or believe in garrisons no heroes borne out of schoolbooks' want our mere survival entails and so to teach the children to bask in world's ovation every single steadfast pilgrim so frightened by the dark Recite the words of a rumourous band or a national anthem Have you ever set your gaze such heights? The constant northern star? Witness the wind bend low the trees and so the country bows... Recite the words to the rumourous land or a national anthem we true north, strong and- true north and strong ...like one candle to another on the back of my hand I drew a map of Canada O Canada! And so I wouldn't forget on the back of my hand I drew a map of Canada O Canada! If I could set my legs to run past drilled fire or waving flags as long as I could feel the wind (on my face) I would still be running; running ELABORATION: In studying this country, either through its history or literature, it seems we define ourselves as a nation either in the negative from our looming neighbour (as what we are not), or as defined by our “greatest” minds in the most reductivist terms (survivalist, garrison, solitudes). Or perhaps know the land itself purely in the ways in which we steal from it, or in rote recitations of songs in which we never consciously focus on the pertinence of the lyrics. In so many ways, how we are defined has been decided for us, in so many ways reduced to little box exactly how we see our country. I wish to see new definitions, active growth and vibrancy, find that True North, find it myself.
7.
Windburn Children Wind-burned children stand on guard, You braced from recoil showered by the buckshot spray Our cocksure walk down tenant land would never burn them down or quell the quaking ground Wind-burned children dig and grow A marching youth would not hold tight and never could and if they do keep glory here never burn them down and sway with joyous sound Deep and wide there's a cold wind blowing Windburn Children wield our ploughshares here we are standing on guard here we are saved ELABORATION: Coming from a lineage of farmers, I see the decline of family run agriculture, the decline of eating what one grows; a true understanding of land and openness is becoming less and less common. To stand in the open prairie and feel the wind, harrowed by the brisk, is noble – to be a son of the land.
8.
Horse Blanket Rash The breath is freezing as if it were to never end and the wind it breezes and shows it's brawn against my back If we were to look on every river wound against run over one thousand blessings: "May we never thaw, Amen." O may you sing true O may it forever burn, the car seats we pile these horse blankets on My little brothers My heavy eyes My empty bottle My bowie knife My saddle sore My Colville dime Those hearts all bleeding My hungry skies & growing lists Amen. ELABORATION: I’m fully aware of how I must come off, continually treading this theme of Canadianism, giving myself a rash from constantly rubbing this theme into the ground. Nevertheless, I still feel compelled to keep digging at it. Our country has yet to define itself, and as it ages, its people care less and less about it. I have not exhausted my fascination with this place, these songs, effective lists, are an attempt at getting one step closer to definition.
9.
Good Man 02:34
Good Man To walk a narrow path straight as a crow the havens are rich in sound healthy ease and sleepless The way to tread barefoot on shale empty bottle soldiers storm against the air and the harvest about me To have an instrument and the will to sing, resound the hollow gulleys pull anchor and flow on You are the ear I will be a good man Sing full-bore & naked Sing freedom Freedom ELABORATION: Something of a response to Richie Havens’ performance at Woodstock, the revelation of simply chanting the word “Freedom” again and again. To live a strict lifestyle, wear this counter-culture like a badge of honour, intellectualize these words and this music, yet in the end give every fibre to deliver a simple and honest performance. I still believe in the power music can yield. The desire to be a good man, to create something good and exude it nakedly. Cut away all the pretence and radiate.

about

credits

released September 20, 2012

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Stalwart Sons Calgary, Alberta

contact / help

Contact Stalwart Sons

Streaming and
Download help

Shipping and returns

Redeem code

Report this album or account

Stalwart Sons recommends:

If you like Stalwart Sons, you may also like: