A Day Without Comfort

by Nick Hudson

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about

The third in a quintet of albums known as 'The Phoenix Archaeologies'

'Following on from 2010’s epic "My Antique Son" (made with his sometime ensemble The Academy of Sun), "A Day Without Comfort" sees Nick again in solo guise, offering up a platter of eleven hauntingly-executed songs dealing with the biography of a dear friend and with Nick’s own manifold political/spiritual/social concerns.'

Dedicated to Dr. John Bacchus.

A very favourable review from Was Ist Das -

www.wasistdas.co.uk/withoutcomfort.htm

credits

released January 11, 2012

Nick Hudson - all instruments.

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about

Nick Hudson Brighton, UK

Nick Hudson (b. 1981) has already produced a vast wealth of music, weaving densely-textured arrangements into a truly epic sound, encompassing progressive rock, modern composition, jazz, lo-fi pop, folk and outright psychedelia. Collaborations have featured Asva, Hexenverfolgung, Ekca Liena, members of Kayo Dot, and David Tibet (Current 93), Michael Salerno. ... more

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Track Name: Bad Atoms
The world is falling apart and we are all bad atoms.
I will never be a boy, but I do love you.
The sky may blacken with the blanket fog of doubt.
I will never answer questions and I’ll never be a girl,
But I do love you.
Track Name: Sunday Boarding House
Today is the Lord’s day, but this Lord preaches death.
Take up a pew and give up your breath.
So when the light shatters like concrete on clay
We’ll wake to a different Lord on a better day.

This father has no children of his own.
That which is taught is not what is known.
Track Name: Gnosis
Dressed as a swastika I took to the roof
Armed only with ideology and proof,
And threw the ground at me with unparalleled force,
Slammed my face in the tarmac that held no remorse

I got picked up by a gnostic saint,
A caravan of care in trenchcoat and warpaint.

“Where’s the benefit package that keeps me slack?
The wind-up wife to watch my back?
A plastic Christ to suckle at my breast?
‘Do Not Resuscitate’ tattooed on my chest.”

He smeared a smile across his face,
No meat to his withered frame,
His hair as fine as rotting lace
His body cells locked in a chessgame

“No kiln can crack the hate in this,
No vessel can contain,
The piercing air of this abyss,
The sharpest autumn rain.”

I climb into the coffin, pull the duvet over my head.
The pillow crested with roses, baked of bloodied bread,
To rise reincarnated, with the yeast of hopeful sleep,
Running through veins that might be sated, were sober thoughts not to creep.
Track Name: Murmur
A child fell out of the womb
Because there was no room
For him to grow inside
Or to hitch a ride
And when he hit the floor
The gutter wouldn’t feed
Like she had before
And he cried out a need:

To never be on his own –
Mumur for it, chant for it.

A young boy learned to stretch,
To poeticize and sketch
His thought forms into stars
To throw at passing cars
And when they hit the chrome
The world would be on fire
And feel for once like home
And answered was his desire:

To never be on his own –
Murmur for it chant for it.

A young man felt the earth
Owed him a better birth.
He aligned himself to an orphan’s pain
And seduced it over and over again
And when he hit the floor
All screaming, gagged and tied,
He begged for more and more.
That need again he cried:

To never be on his own –
Murmur for it chant for it.

Silent night, Holy night.
Track Name: Something Falling Slowly
Where world-class are generals,
Anonymous are my heroes.
I wrench my eyes wide,
There’s a lazy chaos by the riverside.

Gulls are flapping like judges
Ignored by lusters and begrudgers.
Beneath the bridge:
A place where God forgot to paint his scent;
A cove untouched by bankers, brides of government.

Algae chokes the river skin
Like acne on the face within,
Who, gaping from the riverbed
Is just a breath away from dead.

Did he jump or did he fall?
Life’s uncanny, wilful crawl calls out
“An accident? Impossible.”

To jump is to fall with conviction,
To be wiped clean of the blight, the blame, the dereliction.

There’s a lazy chaos by the riverside,
But I generally prefer to hide.
Track Name: Birth Guilt of The Misconceived
What does it take for the clouds dressed as bruises
To congregate armed with dull thunder?
Fresh from the riverbed, dragged up, and wrapped,
Officials and family gather huddled.

The news read “the foul amniotic has claimed him”

Now, I’ve found a reason to slow down.
Time does not view haste kindly
If you’re chasing hope around town
Be sure that you don’t find me.

Why does it take for a loved one to drown
For a faction to extend a handshake?
The fatwah is dropped, the pearls are returned
And bloodlines are twined into stalemate.

The news read “the tugboat has a broken rudder”

Now, I’ve found a reason to slow down.
Time does not view haste kindly
If you’re chasing hope around town
Be sure that you don’t find me.
Track Name: Merry Dance
A ghost wind through the rafters sings
Of brighter days in foreign lands.
A bell cup aged with blues and greens
Rings washed of unkind hands.

Dos-y-dos

Where red tiles were now light beams stir
All startled to the glance.
A creeping, morbid, hopeful chant,
And nervous, merry dance.
Track Name: Land of Decay
Why would I stay in
This land of decay,
Where blood runs pastel, peach and grey
From stark and lolling heads,
Laid to waste in their unmarked beds?

A guillotine for the head of state
For he’s too rich to understand this land.

I came upon a fictional god
Who took me aside and said
“If you’re not gonna be a a terrorist
Perhaps be a singer instead.”

To be raised in a state of play,
To be seized by a rate of pay
To be slave to a slow decay
To expire in a blaze of hate

England’s dreaming indeed
If this is the majesty we need.
And so it hurts me to concede,
But I’ve come to understand

That there’s no poetry in this land
Track Name: Quantum Lock
They said a dream can paint your days.
They said a dream can paint your days.
Permanence a fleeting craze.
Our truth that of a mule who brays.
But silence comes to he who prays
That we alone elect our place in time in space
And I’d like to know, I’d like to know.
Track Name: The Vessel of Eternal Youth
To lean into the wind of exotic aeons,
To stampede the far-stretching field of all seasons,
With bunched sheafs of all the year’s yield for the seizing
In poetry borne of forever chasing reason.

This present you’re seeing is quite premature,
But in being out of time lives a tourist allure.

Time’s orphan cannot coldly scald the vessel.
Track Name: Subterranean, Eyeless Part One
Living spectre.
A man disappeared.
Suit fit him well.
A voice for all seasons.

Your history is codified inside yourself.

Cartilage and bone. Packed ash and pulp.
Slumped in a plane. Free-floating tomb.
Lurch against sky as blue as bodies.