My Antique Son

by Nick Hudson

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Four-panel matte finish card wallet featuring artwork designed by Daniel Mackenzie and Nick Hudson, and a lyric/credits insert printed on exquisite floral paper, featuring a foreword by Current 93's David Tibet.

    Includes unlimited streaming of My Antique Son via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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The second in a quintet of albums collectively-known as 'The Phoenix Archaeologies'.

Reviews -

'an intricate tapestry that is hauntingly ethereal' - The Skinny

‘My Antique Son’ is really something' - Was Ist Das

'Exquisite' - David Tibet (Current 93)

'like something geared to the kind of person who visits Victorian graveyards for kicks...' - Penny Black Music


released December 3, 2010

Nick Hudson - guitar, harmonium, piano, voice, percussion, synthesizer, church organ, field recordings

Duncan Harrison - guitar, bass, vocals

Alex Taylor - violin

John Chescoe - flute

Elena Baltzis - vocals, electric piano

Michael Christiansen - saxophone on 'Elysium'

Daniel Mackenzie - treatments, electric piano, extra production

Wolf Deraze - vocals

Erika Blaxland-deLange - vocals on 'Hierocles'



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Nick Hudson Brighton, UK

Nick Hudson is a composer/musician/artist based in the UK..

His queer gnostic post-punk ensemble The Academy Of Sun are currently working on their new album 'Codex Novena'.

"...Like if Nicks Drake and Cave had a homunculus moonchild in a marriage presided over by William Burroughs" - Scott Treleaven, This Is The Salivation Army.

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Track Name: My Antique Dead
this is my antique son/he’s made out of everyone/and everyone knows the moon, when it’s full is hunter’s friend/this is my photo-frame/remembering those who came as ragged saints at my birth on this ragged searching earth/fit for a king/well fit indeed/when war is won/he has his fun, my antique son/along vines of time/his thread sublime/he softly treads/my antique dead/my home my bed/blockades are made/and roads are closed when doors are hung/my antique son
Track Name: London
('London' by William Blake)
Track Name: Rupert Brooke
are all my crushes doomed to be doomed poets?/at least the dead cannot reject affection/the beauty of the dead is locked in death/in the pendant of my twilight resurrection/on the spectre of their legacy my pen rests/it is the tangled reins of faith that we share/behind the ageless gaze lies an assurance/that our minds are licked aflame by the same air/to share awareness of the subtler passions/is to crave to pass a hand beyond the frame/from which you stare to drag you fresh and screaming/from the frozen mausoleum/ in ignition of your now-replenished fairness/I press the pen against my lips as though it was your own/and were we not a continent of death away I’d offer up my throne/rigid with a dream of your seduction culled from that you casually confessed/I weave myself into your lifes meander/divested now of death my poet rests/skewered by a pure erotic fury usually reserved for those alive/behind death’s pain your cool allure is fixed securely and I bereft, the widow of all wives/if I should cry think only wistfully/undressed of death’s duress in foreign fields of graveless company/into the cleavered calf’s caress/corseted by time’s embarrassed flesh/a history harvested is pressed in tenderness/and as a hyacinth my thirst is yet unmet
Track Name: All The Pretty Horses
Track Name: Idiot Song
like somebody painted the sky with rain/I break like a wave on the school gates/and is it such a sin to drink stolen gin found on a paper round?/my uniform fits like a glove fits a foot/and I want to be part of the world, but when the world says ‘I want you to be lonely’/this blazer and tie do not mean that I am the same as the idiot next to me/I’m a whole other flame and a whole other idiot/and I sure as hell didn’t expect to be wholly respectfully part of the world/so when the world says ‘I want you to be lonely’/I say to universality ‘how very gallantly you tossed me aside’/and when the world says/and when the world stops/and when the world looks/like somebody painted the sky with rain/I break like a wave on the school gates/and is it such a sin to drink stolen gin found on a paper round?
Track Name: Scale
not so serene after the morphine/crooked and mean/languid and sore/been crippled and cracked/perhaps less is morphine/let the scale fall from my eyes/strychnine/camphor/arsenic/laudinum/ether
Track Name: Dead Souls Part One
upon returning, everything looks foreign and he can’t name the shapes that made him/torn bags of refuge mar the street like dead crows/please do not obstruct day or night/his heels have no grounding here, and the ghosts no longer look at him, and the sky throws tiles in his path/his knees buckle like a piece of shot game/please do not obstruct day or night/dead souls, I know that you’re lonely, but you must know, you never will own me
Track Name: Dead Souls Part Two
when first I from my living casket peeled I could not, through the door of my room pass/but now on well-oiled wings I wish to be at once the contents and the glass
Track Name: The Pyramid God is Ahephi
per spiritum sanctus reviviscimus/some people decide what the world is before they have seen it
Track Name: En Face De La Mer
(by Albert Roussel)
Track Name: Hierocles
one day I’ll build us an empire/to my lap the enlightened will flood/the bathhouse will foster the senate/dissent will dismember our blood/embroider a cunt to my apex/I implore thee oh scalpel of Rome/take a pleat to my samphire medusa/oh charioteer oh seducer/when my eyes are covered/when my hands are tied/deus sol invictus/husband will never mean housebound/settled will never be staid/empire will never be deathtrap/rosebloom will breathe as a blade/what’s that Hierocles/want me on my front/what’s that Hierocles/bring the empire to his knees/gott des unbesiegten sohnne/deus sol invictus
Track Name: In Crow Robes
a robe to mask death’s slow incision/a robe to eviscerate will/a robe to upend all decision/a robe to make everything still/in crow robes my total is vision/in crow robes my presence is nil/the city sifts me like the finest grain/through its mortar its gravel its rain/and gazeless faces glazed with days stare through me/dissolute/desolate/elevated/absolute/plasma/miasma/corpuscle/sinew/these are another matter to me/the night-paved streets are another anatomy/through waterpipe, wheelbarrow, furnace and factory/everything peels back to me