Untitled Document

LYRICS AND NOTES / PAROLES ET NOTES

THE TRAVELLER
I've crossed a thousand miles
For a glimpse of your smile
To be with you for awhile
But I've never been there
No, I've never been there
I've never been there with you.

I've travelled around the world
Just to find this girl
Find my little pearl
But I never found her
And should I find her
Would she follow me back home ?

Of all the places here and afar
From Ueno to Zanzibar
I want to be in your arms
Find my destination
Amongst many nations
With no discrimination nor harm

I've crossed a thousand miles
For a glimpse of your smile
To be with you for awhile
But I've never been there
No, I've never been there
I've never been there with you.

© J.P. Mortier 2008

SUPERBLACK
New world is on the way
Priests and killers pave the way
Everyday is judgement day

Superblack
In the name of God
Superblack
In the name of profit and fraud

Bandeirantes paint the boundaries
Blaze a trail of brutality
We live upon their legacies

Superblack
Country made of slaves and stones
Superblack
Roads are built on blood and bones
Superblack
History won't write the wrongs
Superblack....

The colour of discovery is gold
Like in all the tales of old
And in the future, history's retold

Superblack
All over again
Superblack
Which lesson will you retain ?
Superblack
Where the forgotten will remain

© J.P. Mortier 2008

NATIONAL PINETOP
Gold mines are gutting Guyana
The big chin pops up in Katanga
Common gain will not yield to common sense
One day you'll repay in dollars
Everything you saved in cents

I provide the jobs, you provide the death beds
Don't go swimming in Spanish riverbeds
Sell your broken dreams out in Mogilev
It's amazing what P.R. can do
Dirt and shit never sticks top you

Stuck in a bus out in National Pinetop
And the lizards leap out of the bag
The old man is drunk again
I try to wake him up to get the little fuckers back in the sack

Rio and Kyoto have been left behind
Buying a reputation is all you had in mind
And when you thought conspiracies were a thing of the past
Look who's greasing the ass of your local diplomat

© J.P. Mortier 2008

MOON OVER INDIAN OCEAN
( instrumental )

© J.P. Mortier 2008

CALIFORNIA
Sail away to California. Sail away to California
Where the girls don't ever seem to care
Where the girls don't ever seem to care.
Swim away to my utopia. Swim away to my utopia
And it seems as though I'm never there
And it seems as though I'm never there.
I don't want to be. I don't want to be Without you.
I don't want to be. I don't want to be Without you.

Sink away to my dementia. Sink away to my dementia
And it seems like I don't seem to mind
And it seems like I don't seem to mind.
I don't want to live. I don't want to live Without you.
I don't want to live. I don't want to live Without you.

I don't want to be. I don't want to be Without you.
I don't want to be. I don't want to be Without you.

Sail away to California. Sail away to California
Where the girls don't ever seem to care
Where the girls don't ever seem to care.
Sail away, sail away.

© J.P. Mortier 2008

HASH HOUSE HARRIER
From the crowded streets of Malaysia
To the green fields of Africa
Gathered together at the on-in
Is the drinking club with a running sin

You'll be the hare and we'll be the hounds
You can run and run so you can't be found
Leaving your trail through the city hub
We'll all meet back at the pub

Cause we're all Hash House Harriers
And we live in a time so much happier
And we will drink to the glory of the Empire
Singing songs about kissing your mother

Run with the FRB's to the market square
Then the bus station then the elder's lair
Through the farms and fields in the heavy sun
We'll quench our thirst when we are done

Cause we're all Hash House Harriers
And we live in a time so much wearier
And we will drink to the health of the Empire
Singing songs about groping your mother

Back at the bar with Mungo Park
General Kitchener is stumbling in the dark
Drinking and fighting, they will assume
And there's Dr. Livingston, I presume

Cause we're all Hash House Harriers
And we live in a time so much scarier
And we will drink to the survival of the Empire
Singing songs about doing your mother
On-on
Cause we're all Hash House Harriers
And we live in a time so much deadlier
And we will drink with the ghosts of the Empire
In heaven or hell fucking your mother

© J.P. Mortier 2008

DRY MARTINI PARLOR
Out in the desert in '42
Down the Red Sea coast
There lies the dry martini parlor
Full of lepers and ghosts.
A violent moon reminds them
Of a long lost lover
Who had lost her innocence
And every memory of her.

Days pass,
The front line moves back and forth
A compass holds no meaning
To the scorpions left in the fort
In the endless days of a war
Fought out here and in every land
Allegiances are empty of meaning
Loyalty shifts like the desert sands
Like the desert sands.

As all dies around us
And the memories fade
Soon it will all mean nothing
With no one left to relate.
Except for the dreamers
Except for the fools
And all of the romantics
Who howl at the moon.

Days pass,
The front line moves back and forth
A compass holds no meaning
To those scorpions left in the fort
In the endless days of a war
Fought out here and in every land Allegiances are empty of meaning
Loyalty shifts like the desert sands
Like the desert sands.

© J.P. Mortier 2008

BLUE NILE / WHITE NILE
See me. Friend to my sword
Obedient to my lord
My knives are shiny
And my teeth are long
And I am famished
For soon I shall be a martyr
And soon I shall be banished

Deaf man
There is no one to lick your wounds
No one to heal your soul
No virgins there to tend to you
No access to the garden
Granted to the likes of you
To the fallen hero
Only death, death awaits you

Blind man
Lead your flock to the precipice
Send your young to die
In acts of war and cowardice
Gather all your prophets
At the junction of the schism
Pay a contribution
For your lack of criticism

People
The vultures have preyed upon your kind
Neither east nor west
Pull the veil upon your mind
Pay in blood, pay in oil
Play with your souls
Keep your eyes open
Or blind faith will swallow you whole

© J.P. Mortier 2008

LOS ANDES
( instrumental )

© J.P. Mortier 2008

LONDRINA
Crouched and slumped in a bus in southern Brazil
It was late when we pulled into town
In my glazened state, I looked through the window
And there was a buxom Brazilian brunette

Whoa... who is she, what is she waiting for...
Possibly maybe the next bus out of town
So I jumped on the platform of the terminal
And ventured around

As I saw her face, I thought I did see
the Southern Cross in her eyes
All the austral constellations in one revelation
so I started to smile

Where are you going to?
That's when I realized I didn't speak Portuguese
I'm just a busker from a frozen land
And I could use some company

On the way from Foz to Rio
I met a senorita in Londrina

Suco to her lips, I studied her hips
And every wave in her hair
I caught her eye, I let go of a sigh
As I try not to stare

Intercom comes on and it won't be long
For the bus is about to pull out
Long contemplation and then hesitation
Consequences are weighing about

One foot on the bus, the other on the platform
She seemed to be headed this way
So I walk down the aisle but I lose track of her smile
Too late to turn the other way

Back in my seat, I see her standing alone
As the bus, it drives away
I feel like I'm in a b-series war movie
My head fills with a thousand clichés

Look back at the lights in the hills of the dusty town
I left my senorita in Londrina

© J.P. Mortier 2008

HAWAIIAN BLIGHT
Locust plague and banana blight
Take the violets to the other side
See how easy it is to waste paradise

Pressure tactics wildcat strikes
Lobby groups fight for a piece of the pie
See how easy it is to sell paradise

Will we have to wait
Until the sky turns to black now
Will we have to wait
Until there's no turning back now

The snake flashes dollar signs
Businessman takes the bite
See how easy it is to be chased from paradise

Cut the trees and plant the seeds
All you do is breed the weeds
Growing GNPs cannot sustain paradise

Will we have to wait
Until there's no fucking trees around
Will we have to wait
Until Hawaii sinks underground

What you take, you must replace
If you can't replace, you can't take
You may have to lose your jobs for the sake of paradise

Will we have to wait
Until the sky turns to black now
Will we have to wait
Until there's no turning back now

Will we have to wait
Until there's no fucking trees around
Will we have to wait
Until Hawaii sinks underground

© J.P. Mortier 2008

COAST OF AZUR
( instrumental )

© J.P. Mortier 2008

HERE
Out West, they celebrate
But there's something here I have to say
The hammer has fallen
And the faces have grown solemn

Here it comes
Slowly, surely across the sea
Warning lights are sending signals through the night
Down from the coast
To this place I love the most.

But the night is growing dark
We've got the ignition but not the spark.
Did I survive adversity
Only to succumb to anarchy?

Here it comes
Slowly, surely. Across the sea
Still wasting my time
Waiting in line For Coca-Cola and democracy.

When I look across the sea
There's someplace else I'd rather be
Don't talk to me about tomorrow
When here and now is all I'll ever know.

Here it comes
Slowly, surely. Across the sea
Warning lights are sending signals through the night

© J.P. Mortier 2008

WHO'LL WATCH OVER US?
Who'll watch over you Once I am gone?
Who'll watch over me Once you are gone?
Anyone at all?

Who'll watch over us Once we are gone?
Who'll see all we've done Once we are gone?
Anyone at all?

Who'll watch over me Once you are gone?
Who'll watch over you Once I am gone?
Anyone at all?

© J.P. Mortier 2008

Song Notes / Notes

THE TRAVELLER
Could it be ? An autobiographical song ? maybe ? maybe not ?

This is the first time I've used an acoustic guitar on my recordings ..not the last time...as you will soon hear... I rented a Taylor 410 for the sessions. I did use my Godin LGX for the leads and an additional rhythm track.

Quoi ? Une chanson autobiographique ? oui ? non ? ...peut-être ?

C'est la première fois que j'utilise une guitare acoustique dans l'enregistrement d'une de mes chansons ....certainement pas la dernière fois... J'ai loué une Taylor 410 pour les sessions. J'ai quand même utilisé ma Godin LGX pour les solos et un doublage de la guitare qui tiens le rhythme.

SUPERBLACK
History tells us a lot about us... not just what it remembers but especially what it chooses to forget.... the contribution of some of its actors are not always put in the right perspective and are sometimes lost in the shuffle.... rest assure that this is not an accidental oversight.

The song's verses are in 10/4 time and the choruses are in 4/4. There are 2 beats that are added at the end of the verses. I am sure it must drive my drummer nuts but sometimes songs have to breathe ... one of my heavier songs ... sounds good live...

L'histoire nous apprends beaucoup sur nous mêmes... pas seulement ceux que l'histoire se souviens mais surtout sur ceux que l'histoire choisi d'oublier.... La contribution des acteurs de notre histoire n'est pas toujours mis sous une perpective judicieuse et certains évènements sont oubliés dans la tourmente... ce n'est pas un oubli accidentel.

Les versets sont en 10/4 et les refrains en 4/4. En plus ,il y a une mesure de 2/4 avant les refrains... est-ce que ça dérange mon batteur ? Des fois, les chansons doivent respirés... en tout cas, en concert, cette toune fesse assez fort.

NATIONAL PINETOP
One night, I was watching W5 or some news report on the CBC and I heard about all sorts of "nice" Canadians screwing people in developing countries...hmmmm.... and here I thought we were nice-goody-two-shoes kind of people... oh, the shame.... BTW, there is a dusty town in Mexico called Pinotepa Nacional.... that's if you wondered about the song title... and no, it has nothing to do with the song...

Un soir, j'ai vu un reportage qui passait au réseau de Radio-Canada anglais sur certains compatriotes qui ne fesaient pas de choses très gentilles dans plusieurs pays en voie de développement... finalement, on est peut-être pas si tolérant et fins comme on le pensait. ...Au fait, il y a une petite ville poussiéreuse qui s'appelle Pinotepa Nacional et qui n'a rien à voir avec le propos de cette chanson.

MOON OVER INDIAN OCEAN
A song that was written outside a diner in Western Australia. The bus had stopped for supper but I had this song in my head so I asked the driver to pull out my guitar from the bagage holds. I retrieved the guitar and wrote my song. When I had finished, it was time to go and I ended up with an empty stomach but a fine little instrumental tune.

Une chanson qui fut écrite à l'extérieur d'un resto au bord de la route en Australie Occidentale. L'autobus s'est arrété pour le souper mais j'avais une idée en tête. J'ai demandé au chauffeur d'ouvrir le compartiment à bagages et j'ai pris ma guitare. Quand j'ai eu fini d'écrire ma chanson, c'était le temps de repartir... le ventre vide mais une belle petite instrumentale en plus.

CALIFORNIA
A bittersweet song about wanting to be elsewhere. I was in Mexico when I wrote California.

I really like the back vocals on this one... kind of Beach Boys kind of back vocals but without the woo-ooo part... Definitely, the radio-friendly one with a bang-up job from my friend, Billy Szawlowski at the mixing board.

Une chanson qui parle de l'envie d'être ailleurs. J'étais au Méxique quand j'ai écrit California.

J'aime les vocales qui se retrouvent dérrière...un peuà la facon des Beach Boys mais sans les woo-oos. Définitivement, une chanson fait pour la radio grâce à tout un travail de mon ami, Billy szawlowski à la console.

HASH HOUSE HARRIER
The Hash House Harriers were formed nearly 100 years ago by British expatriates in Malaysia looking for a reason to drink. These guys came up with a hare and hounds kind of race where the hare would leave a trail through various terrain including city areas, countryside, jungle and through various environments. The hounds would give the hare a head start and run after the hare eventually finishing at a pub or some local watering hole where they would get drunk and sing all sorts of naughty songs about sex, incest and all sorts of adult content fare giving each other nicknames such as "Skinny Dick" or "Fartface" or "Stupid Asshole" or whatever name inspired the lads. Needless to say that this little game caught on to the point where pretty much every town of a reasonable size throughout the world has a Hash House Harrier chapter...

Les Hash House Harriers ont été formé il ya prés d'un siécle par des expatriés Britanniques qui cherchaient une raison pour se saouler la gueule. Ils ont inventé un petit jeu de chiens et de lièvres. Le "lièvre" partait en courant en laissant des indices dérrière lui. Les "chiens de chasse" partaient quelques temps plus tard et essayait de le rattraper. La chasse se terminait au pub ou n'importe quel bar du coin. Une fois tous revenu, ils se donnaient des noms inventifs comme "Trou de Cul" ou "Petite Queue" ou ce qui passait dans leurs imagination. Ils chantaient des chansons cochonnes et passaient du bon temps. Ce jeu est devenu tellement populaire que c'est presque devenu un genre de culte. On retrouve des groupes de Hash House harriers à travers le monde dans pas mal toute ville de taille respectable...

DRY MARTINI PARLOR
I wrote this song in 2003 when the US stormed Bagdad and initiated the second Gulf War.... it made me re-read a story ( a bande dessiné to be more precise ) written by Hugo Pratt, whose claim to fame are the adventures of Corto Maltese. In this story, which takes place during World War 2, a group of soldiers from both sides find themselves isolated in a fort in the Ethiopian desert. Cut off from their superiors and all form of communication, the stranded fighters have no clue if the fort is in their territory or the other side's creating a confusion which pushes the soldiers into a stalemate in the middle of nowhere forcing them to think about the futility of war.

This is one of the rare songs (up to now) that I wrote on keyboard. I recorded a version during the English House sessions but decided to re-record it for Backpacker. It starts in 5/4 time signature but the "chorus" is in 4/4. To me, this is my strongest vocal performance to date.

J'ai écrit cette chanson en 2003 pendant l'invasion des Américains à Bagdad qui a commencé la deuxième Guerre du Golfe. ... j'ai pensé a une histoire que j'avais lu (une BD pour être plus précis) écrite par Hugo Pratt, mieux connu comme auteur des aventures de Corto Maltese. Cette histoire se déroule pendant la deuxième Guerre Mondiale. Des soldats des deux côtés se retrouvent isolés dans un fort dans le désert Éthiopien coupés de toutes communications. Ils ne savent plus qui est en contrôle du territoire sur lequel ils se retrouvent et alors les combattants se retrouvent en situation de match nul. La, ils commencent a se connaître et se retrouvent confronté à l'absurdité de la guerre.

Cette chanson est une des rares pièces écrite au piano (il y en aura d'autres à l'avenir). J'ai enregistré une version pendant les sessions de l'album The English House mais j'ai décidé de la refaire pour Backpacker. Elle commence en 5/4 et le "refrain" est en 4/4.Je peux aussi affirmé que se sont les meilleures performances vocales que j'ai réalisé jusqu'a maintenant.

BLUE NILE / WHITE NILE
This is the result of two seperate songs that I pieced together and added a 7/4 instrumental part...it's the heaviest track up to now with a definite prog rock flavour..

Voila le résultat de deux chansons que j'ai monté et ajouté une partie instrumentale en 7/4... la toune la plus "heavy" avec une saveur de rock progressif...

LOS ANDES
A 3/4 instrumental inspired by quechua folk music from northen Argentina which makes me think of mountains... and yes,it's me you can hear me breathing on the acoustic guitar track. I was pretty sick when I recorded that part so think of it as part of the performance...

Une instrumentale en 3/4 inspiré par la musique des quechuas d'Argentine du nord. Cette chanson me fait promener dans les montagnes....et oui, c'est moi que vous entendez respirer sur la piste de guitare acoustique. J'étais pas mal malade lors de cet enregistrement. Maintenant, ca fait parti de la performance...

LONDRINA
Did you ever see an incredible woman that mesmerized you and you were going one way and she was going another and you knew that if you didn't make a move right away, you would never see her again because there'd be no way of relocating her and that by the time you built up the nerve to actually say something, she was gone...?

Well, it happened to me many times ...including in the middle of the night in a bus station in southern Brazil.

Est-ce que vous avez déja vu une femme si belle que vous êtes resté hypnotisé et que vous alliez dans des directions opposés et qu'il n'y avait aucune chance de la revoir et que quand vous avez finalement amasser assez de courage de lui parler qu'elle était déja partie ?

Eh bien, ça m'est arrivé a plusieurs reprises dont une fois en pleine nuit dans une gare routière dans les fin-fonds du sud Brésilien.

HAWAIIAN BLIGHT
On a trip with my Dad, we were on Hawaii's Big Island and we came across a sign warning us not to haul some bananas from one side of the island to the other as some kind of disease was ravaging them... which inspired me to write this pro-environment tune and our collective bunglings with fragile ecosystems.... and yes, I wrote this tune on a ukulele!

Pendant une voyage avec mon père à Hawaii sur la grande île, ona vu une pancarte qui avisait de ne pas apporter de bananes d'un côté de l'île pour cause de maladie.... j'ai été inspiré d'écrire une chanson "verte" sur nos manipulations sur les éco=systèmes qui nous entourent. Et.. oui, j'ai écrit cette chanson sur un ukulele!

COAST OF AZUR
This tune was written on my grandparents' porch in southern France before leaving for la côte d'Azur.

Celle-ci fut écrite devant la maison de mes grand-parents dans le sud de la France juste avant notre départ pour la Côte d'Azur.

HERE
Since the fall of the Soviet Union, there has been winners and losers in Russia and other ex-Eastern Bloc countries. And while you may think that the old guard Communists that made everyone miserable were the ones losing out, that was not really the case... they just recycled themselves into businessmen, spin doctors and gangsters... much to the chagrin of the masses at the bottom of the pyramid.

Depuis la chute de l'Union Soviétique, il y des gagnants et des perdants en Russie et dans les ex-pays de l'est. Mais si vous pensez que les méchants communistes qui ont sévis sur le peuple ne sont plus en charge ...détrompez-vous car ils se sont recyclés en hommes d'affaires, charlatans et gangsters... et tant pis pour le pauvre peuple.

WHO'LL WATCH OVER US ?
It had rained for a couple of days and here I was late in the evening holed up in a dorm in a backpacker in Hong Kong looking at the downpour from the balcony. I picked up my guitar and wrote this song thinking about people far away, loneliness, death and the legacy we leave behind once we are gone.

Il pleuvait depuis plusieurs jours and et me voici tard le soir pris dans le dortoir d'une auberge de jeunesse à Hong Kong a regarder la pluie tomber sepuis le balcon. J'ai pris ma guitare et j'ai écrit cette chanson sur les gens qui nous sont très loin, la solitude, la mort et l'héritage qu'on laisse une fois que l'on est parti.

A MAN NAMED KENNEDY
Hiding in the alley
Sneaking up behind me
This old man's name was Kennedy.

That's when he told me
« Whole world's gone crazy »
Hiding in the concrete canopy.

He studied philosophy
Even held a degree
But he couldn't find his place in society.

« It's all truckers and roadies
Consumers and phonies
This ain't no place for fantasy. »

« Everybody sees me
No one wants to hear me
Yet my mind roars so audibly. »

« They coat themselves in pity
Wearing clothes so pretty
They become like private property. »

The old man shook my hand
« No time to understand,
Son, the power lies in the land. »

Running from the alley
Looking out behind me
This old fucker's name was Kennedy.

Kennedy, Kennedy.

© J.P.Mortier 2003

SOMETHING SOLID
You know and I know
Who we are, what we mean to each other.
Your car, your furniture
It's not part of your culture.
Your ads and TV shows,
None that you can grow on.
You know and I know
Your mind, your friends, your family,
It's all that will ever be.

If you got to believe in someone,
Let it be someone you can trust.
And if you got to believe in something good,
Let it be..... something solid.......something solid.

You know and I know
In your grave,
Your bank account, it's not gonna count.
There's no jobs, no gods nowadays
Life after death...
Well, who can say?
You know and I know
All I have is you
And all that you have is me.

If you got to believe in someone,
Let it be someone you can trust.
And if you got to believe in something good,
Let it be..... something solid.......something solid.

Solid, baby.

© J.P.Mortier 2003

KOTO
( instrumental )

© J.P.Mortier 2003

SHIGOTO
Sean, Hamid and I
We walked through Mejiro's lights.
To look for work
To this place we had heard.

A new job for the day now.
A new boss for the day now.
A new site for the day now.
4 a.m. towards the park.

For a handful of yen
We'd be construction men.
Suddenly from everywhere
They were there

An army in overalls now.
They made no sound at all now.
Like zombies enthralled now.
Converging towards the park.

Vans arrived, recruiters abound
Spotted and selected like in a lost and found.
And off we go
Destination? I don't know.

For some house to build now.
Some wall to paint now.
Some basement to pitch now.
A job fair in the park.

We stood alone the three of us
Not knowing what to do
Nor who to ask.
No one came to us.
They just stared at us like the gaijins that we were,
Aimlessly trying to get hired
Aimlessly trying to get hired.

Sunrise lights the avenue
From black to red to blue.
Crowd thinned out.
Vans rolled out. We lucked out.

We were left alone now.
Broke and unemployed now.
So we left for home now.
Not to return to the park.

For some house to build now.
Some wall to paint now.
Some basement to pitch now.
A job fair in the park.

© J.P.Mortier 2003

LIKE A WAVE
Smoothing voice ringing deep in my ears
Like a wave into the night.
Eyes so blue as her face appears
Like a wave into the night.

A warm front in the July night.
A distant flicker of the TV light.
Drowns me in desire and delight.
Like a wave, like a wave, like a wave.

There she is, just for me but she can't be reached
Like a wave upon the beach.
Stranded like a castaway, drained and bleached
Like a wave upon the beach.

All you teen idols, you beauty queens
From every page of fashion magazines.
You came on to me in my dreams.
Like a wave, like a wave, like a wave.

Bound to you, I'm a slave to your siren song
Like a wave into the storm.
Passing through and receding out to where you belong
Like a wave into the storm.

Wake up and there's no one in sight.
Here I am, a victim to her blight.
I plunge in an ocean as black as the night.
Like a wave, like a wave, like a wave.

All you teen idols, you beauty queens
From every page of fashion magazines.
You came on to me in my dreams.
Like a wave, like a wave, like a wave.

© J.P.Mortier 2003

INLAND SEA/BOATS
( instrumental )

© J.P.Mortier 2003

TOKYO 2 A.M.
There she was at the top of the stairs
Shadows hiding in her long brown hair
I heard her cry so I sat next to her
Neons bathed the staircase where we were

This is Tokyo at 2 a.m.
This is Tokyo at 2 a.m.

As I held her in my arms
A spark ignited from her to me
Against the tide of a foreign land
As close as two people could ever be.

This is Tokyo at 2 a.m.
This is Tokyo at 2 a.m.

And this moment was all we ever owned
Frozen in the motion of a metronome
Cause it's always when you're all alone
That you realize you're far from home.

This is Tokyo at 2 a.m.
This is Tokyo at 2 a.m.

© J.P.Mortier 2003

SAYONARA BABY
She is there
Oh my God, she is there
In the station so bare
She is there,she is there 'neath the panda bear
She is there, oh my God
Oh my God, she is there.

I can't believe the way that she looks
I can't believe the way that she looks
And there she is filin' her claws
And sharpenin' her hooks
I can't believe.

So I try to say hi now
Despite the fear in my eyes
I try to say hi now
Despite the fear in my eyes
I try to run, try to hide
Find an excuse why
Oh my God, there's this look in her eyes.

And what they say
About love being blind
And what they say
You take what you find
Well, it's so hard to a gent
When you got no intent.

At the table
I don't know if I'm able
At the table
Not feeling so stable
Try to eat, chew the meat
Avoid the feet underneath.
I don't know if I'm able.

And she talks, and she talks
You know that dreary small talk
And she don't stop with that dreary small talk
She';s a tease, she's a flirt
Push the gaijin in the dirt
And she talks and she talks and she talks....
And what they say
About love being blind
And what they say
You take what you find
Well, it's hard to be a man
With someone you can't stand.
Yeah, you know what it's like....

Now we're in the park
Yes, it's Ueno in the dark
We're in the park now
Just a kiss in the dark
But the light betrays the night
Reveals the unforgiving sight
This is it. This is it.

Sayonara, baby.

© J.P.Mortier 2003

I'LL DAMN YOU TO HELL
I'll damn you to hell
But I wish you well.
I want you to stay.
You're going away.
I'm out of line.
You're out of time.
I wish you well
But I'll damn you to hell.

I bare it all.
You bear it all.
I say fare well.
You say farewell.
I'm all alone.
You're on your own .
I wish you well
But I'll damn you to hell.

I'll damn you to hell
But I wish you well.
I want you to stay.
You're going me away.
I'm out of rhymes.
You're out of time.
I wish you well
But I'll damn you to hell.

© J.P.Mortier 2003

THE STREAM
Let the stream
be your guide
though the tides
of your life.

Let the current
be the flow
the undertow
through the highs and lows.

No one knows its destination.
No one knows its origin.
No one questions its motivation.
Let the stream wash off your sins.

...Wash off your sins.

Let the river
sweep you away
show you the way
day after day.

Let the water
be your blood
as thick as mud
a deep and wide flood.

No one knows your destination.
No one knows your origin.
No one questions your motivations, baby.
Let the stream wash off your sins.

...Wash off your sins.

© J.P.Mortier 2003

FREE MAN
If I could put it down
I would be such a free man.
If I could put it out
I would be such a free man.
Such a free man.
Such a free man.

If you could hear me out
And look at me straight in the eye.
If you could help me now
You'd save me before I would die.
Before I would die.
Before I would die.

Look at us, baby
Struggling it out.
Sometimes we whisper,
Sometimes we shout.
Scars on your body
And scars on my soul.
Is this the kind of shit that makes us whole?

If I could put it down
I would be such a free man.
If I could stop from beating you up
I would be such a free man.
Such a free man.
Such a free man.

© J.P.Mortier 2003

WHEEL THIS ONE
Welcome to Tokyo
Welcome to Narita
Welcome to Domestic Hell
Welcome to the English House.

A pimp from Singapore
Sword maker from Prague
A school of English teachers
From the Outback to Pakistan
Like modern day fortune hunters scavenging the city
They hunt wealth, seek opportunities
Alone in the masses in the slalom of Japanese etiquette
Human islands form the English House.

© J.P.Mortier 2003

345 DAYS AWAY FROM YOU
When I think of you
I bridge many miles
At the speed of thought
You get to travel a lot.

I want to be back

Your picture, still with me
Hellish fridge has done its worst
But I ditched it two flights down to its demise
You should have seen the sparks in my eyes.

I will be back

Now the nights don';t seem so long
Separation will not be prolonged
No longer blurred by the tears
I'll be back next year.

© J.P.Mortier 2003

FOR KIRSTEN
( instrumental )

BELA LUGOSI
Hey, Bela Lugosi
Where have you been?
What have you been up to lately?
The days of monsters have come and gone.

There's Henry Ford
He's slavin' the assembly line
Wasted all day in the welfare line
Nostalgia's nice but it has its price.

Too many people, not enough jobs
So who will feed us educated slobs?
There's nothing to do
I was wondering... what about you?

There's Kennedy with F.D.R.
Wondering where Babe and the other sluggers are
Free agents roam
But they've got no home.

Too many people, not enough time
Clean air for jobs is economic crime
Another tree falls
Feeding off genocide.

Too many people, not enough space
So who will save this poor human race.
Once we all start to lose,
It's time to change the rules.

THE ENGLISH HOUSE
I can't believe it's been ten years
Since we hanged out at the House
Standing next to the beer machine
Under Tokyo's city lights.

Good-bye Andrea, good-bye Pete
We said good-bye in the subway heat.
Good-bye Gis, good-bye Sam
This is no longer where I am.

Armed with our guitars,
We would play into their hearts.

Ridin' on the Yamanote sen
We took credit cards and yen.
Money was not the reason
We would make it till next season

Playing truco until five
We partied on every two nights.
Philippe would walk in with his poker face
The jokers knew they';d be getting aced.

Armed with our guitars,
We would croon into their hearts.

Hanging out with Sean at the club
Eyeing every prospect in this zoo.
You know she looked so beautiful,
I didn't know what to do.

I can't believe it's been ten years
Since we hanged out at the House
Standing next to the beer machine
Under Tokyo's city lights

Good-bye Andrea, good-bye Pete
We said good-bye in the subway heat
Good-bye Gis, good-bye Sam
This is no longer where I am.

Good-bye Yoshi. Good-bye Stockman. Good-bye Andrea. Good-bye Pete.
Good-bye Kirsten. Bye-bye Lucy. Au revoir Phillipe. See you later Sean.
Good-bye Karen from Boston, see you later. Good-bye Karen from Austria. Karen from Germany, Karen from Australia ....and all you Karens out there.
Good-bye Gisela. Good-bye Yair. Good-bye Hamid, Doug, Tom,
Good-bye Janet, Kelly. Good-bye Lee Ann.
Adios Jorge. Mr. Johnny and the missus.....

Good-bye all my friends... and I'll see you on the road....

Song Notes / Notes

A MAN NAMED KENNEDY
There is a saying in Japanese that says, "The nail that sticks out must be hammered in like all the other nails," ...or something along those lines. That's what this song is all about. It has nothing to do with the deceased president from the sixties or any other member of his family.

I wrote this song late one night at Ikebukuro station where once in awhile this old, homeless guy would come to hear my play just before closing time. He became Mr. Kennedy.

Il y a un dicton japonais qui dit que le clou qui dépasse doit être enfoncé. C'est le sujet de cette chanson. Il n'y a aucun rapport avec l'ancien président des États-Unis ou quelque membre de sa famille.

J'ai composé cette chanson un soir dans la station Ikebukuro ou je me faisais quelques yens. De temps en temps, il y avait un vieil itinérant qui venait se réchauffer dans la station avant la fermeture. M. Kennedy, c'était lui.

SOMETHING SOLID
There are only three things in life that are worth having: your mind, your friends and your family.

Il n'y a que trois choses qui ont de la valeur dans la vie: ta conscience, tes amis et ta famille.

KOTO
A koto is that instrument that gives that very "plunk-plunk-plunk" Japanese string sound that is always used on TV or in a film to make your brain understand that there is something Japanese about what you are watching.

I know it's cheesy but I couldn't resist putting that gong at the end.....

Un koto est cet instrument qui donne ce son de corde qui fait "plunk-plunk-plunk" et qui est toujours utilisé à la TV ou dans les films pour que notre cerveau comprenne que l'action se passe au japon ou qu'il y a quelque chose de japonais va se passer.

Je ne pouvais résister a mettre ce gong à la fin.........

SHIGOTO
A true story about looking for work in a foreign country where you don't know the language, the customs, the procedure and you end up in a park at 4 in the morning with an Iranian and an Irishman surrounded by an army of silent and contemplating Japanese construction workers who are looking at you wondering," Who the fuck are you?"

Basé sur des faits vécus... comment se trouver une job dans un pays étranger quand on ne comprend ni la langue ni la coutume ni les procédures et que l'on se retrouve dans un parc à 4 heures du matin avec un iranien et un irlandais entouré d'une armée de travailleur de la construction japonaise qui vous regarde silencieusement et se demande," C'est qui ceux la?"

LIKE A WAVE
....Very late ( or very early depending on your point of view ) when all is calm, it's hot and you can't sleep....you are alone and horny.....and all you have is channel 12.....

Il est tard (ou tôt selon votre point de vue) et tout est calme. Il fait chaud. Vous ne pouvez pas dormir. Vous êtes tout seul et excité... et tout ce que vous avez est le canal 12......

INLAND SEA / BOATS
The Inland Sea.....a body of water located between Honshu and Shikoku.

This is actually two songs that were merged into one written in the English house on separate nights. Originally, they were quiet and very relaxing instrumentals much like the sea that gives it its name but human intervention has a way of perverting peaceful things.

Apparently, in Kobe, they chucked the whole side of a mountain, dumped it in the sea and made an island in a land reclamation project. Human intervention indeed.

La Mer Intérieure... un bras de mer situé entre Honshu et Shikoku.

Inland Sea et Boats étaient deux chansons distinctes et ont été fusionnées en une seule pièce instrumentale. Toutes deux ont été écrite dans l' "English House" et elles étaient deux pièces calmes, très tranquilles et paisibles mais l'intervention humaine est venue pervertir cette tranquillité.

Apparemment, à Kobé, ils ont grugé la moitié d'une montagne pour en faire une île dans la mer pour gagner un peu de terrain sur la mer. Voila pour l'intervention humaine.

TOKYO 2 A.M.
Late one evening after busking in the subway station, I entered the house ( there were no front doors ) and there, at the top of the stairs was Sylvia. She was crying.....

Un soir, en revenant de la station de métro ou je jouait, je suis entré ( il n'y avait pas de porte en avant ) et tout en haut de l'éscalier, Sylvia était la et elle pleurait.......

SAYONARA BABY
At least once in a man's life, he experiences a life-changing and traumatic experience called the blind date. In some cases, it is the blind date from hell...... Mine occurred at Ueno station where my date was waiting next to a huge panda bear statue.

This song was written several years afterwards and is the most recent tune on this CD with the exception of "Koto".

Au moins une fois dans la vie d'un homme, il doit faire face à une expérience qui le marquera à vie : le "blind date". Mon expérience s'est arrivée à la station Ueno et attendait sous une énorme statue de panda.

Cette chanson, écrite bien après mon temps au japon, est la plus récente à part pour " Koto".

I'LL DAMN YOU TO HELL
Keeping in spirit of Sayonara Baby.....another romance that went south..

Actually, this song is somewhat of a milestone for me. Although, the lyrics are simplistic, this was one of the first songs where I thought the music and the lyrics came together. I always felt my time in Japan was a catalyst for my songwriting "Kennedy" and "Damn You to Hell" were, in fact, the two songs that unleashed the floodgates and this is why they hold a special place for me. The fact that my stay at the English house was where that breakthrough took place made it logical to me to make it the title of my debut CD and dictated the visual theme to the album.

Après le blind date de Sayonara Baby, voici une autre tragédie romantique.....

Cette chanson est un peu spéciale car elle fut une des premières compositions ou je trouvais que la musique et les paroles formaient un tout bien que les paroles soient assez simplistes. Cette pièce et "Kennedy" ont été les catalyseurs dans l'évolution de ma démarche artistique et ces deux morceaux ont une place spéciale pour moi. Le fait que cette évolution soit arrivée pendant mon séjour à Tokyo, il était naturel de baptiser mon premier cd du nom de la maison ou ce tournant important c'est déroulé et d'y aller avec un thème visuel japonais.

THE STREAM
A nice, quiet bluesy tune written one night at the house.

Une pièce tranquille et un peu bluesy écrite un soir à la " Maison anglaise".

FREE MAN
Written one November night on top of a bank building. When you live in a house with 27 other people, you kind of like to get itchy for your own private space.... I found mine by sneaking up the fire escape of her building and climb on the roof with my guitar and relax in the Tokyo night.

....This song is not about relaxing. It is about violence and abuse made to women from the point of view of the abuser. Unfortunately, like so many problems in our society, we deal with this issue in the aftermath. The point here is not to take pity on the guy but one has to wonder how what kind of despair drives someone to drink and be this violent and how come no one helps him before flying off the handle resulting in a victim and a criminal. There are groups and shelters to help women but it is essential that there has to be someone or something to relieve the mixture of despair, ignorance, stupidity and anger that generates these acts. As long as that issue is not addressed, I'm afraid the circle of violence will continue.

Écrite sur le toit de la Mitsui Bank à Méjiro. Quand on habite avec 27 personnes, il arrive qu'on aimerait avoir un coin tranquille pour soi-même de temps en temps. Mon endroit était sur le toit d'un édifice. Je sautais la barrière, montais l'escalier de secours jusqu'au toit pour être seul avec ma guitare.

.....Cette chanson parle de l'abus et de la violence faite aux femmes du point de vue de celui qui fesse. Il y a des groupes et du support pour aider les femmes qui sont confrontées a cette situation mais il y a trop peu pour aider les hommes aux prises avec cette mixture de désespoir, ignorance, stupidité et de colère. On ne fait que réparer les pots cassés une foi le fait accompli et on se retrouve avec une victime et un criminel.

WHEEL THIS ONE
This song is the one that was the most transformed tune from its conception to the final version.

Originally, the lyrics were about a murder that was committed in a convenience store near my parent's house before my departure to Japan. The clerk was killed for a total of 48$. These lyrics never stuck with the music part. The song was too upbeat and the mood and rhythm did not fit the serious subject matter. I kept the original lyrics for another song.

When recording the English House, I used this chord progression and turned it into an instrumental called Wheel This One so in the pre-production demo, I had this song as an instrumental. As I recorded the real version, I changed the distorted guitar for more keyboard-synthetizer sounds. I then started to write a sort of a poem that was really a list of people who had stayed at the house. Slowly, the song morphed into a song / spoken word piece that described the environment and characters that lived at the house.

In addition to a sword maker from Prague, a pimp from Singapore and a school of English teachers....here are a few of the protagonists that used to haunt the house during my stay : a Swedish photographer, three u.s. marines on shore leave, a stock market analyst that went crazy seeking fortune on the Tokyo market, a voodoo priest from Mauritius, a belly dancer from South Africa, Israeli wheelers and dealers, cooks from Colombia, a tango teacher from Buenos Aires, a karate champion from Iran, a plethora of street musicians and buskers, club hostesses, writers, hippies, street vendors and backpackers.

Wheel This One est la chanson qui a subit le plus de transformation depuis sa conception jusqu'a la version finale.

Au début, le sujet était un meurtre qui s'était produit dans un dépanneur près de chez mes parents avant mon départ pour le japon. Le meurtrier avait été arrêté avec son butin de 48$. Malheureusement, les paroles ne cadraient pas avec la musique. Le rythme était trop vite et l'atmosphère n'était pas appropriée. Les paroles ont été gardées pour une autre chanson.

Avant d'enregistrer l'album, j'ai pris la progression et j'ai transformé cette chanson en instrumentale. Pendant la production, j'ai remplacé les guitares distortionés pas des synthés. J'ai commencé à écrire un poème qui décrivait les gens et l'atmosphère qui régnait dans l'english house. Tranquillement, cette chanson est devenue Wheel This One avec sa jungle et ses habitants.

Voici une liste partielle des résidants de l'English House : un fabricant de sabres de Prague, un pimp de Singapour, plusieurs profs d'anglais, une photographe suédoise, trois marines en permission, un analyste de la bourse qui est devenu fou en cherchant fortune à la bourse de Tokyo, un prêtre vaudou de l'Île Maurice, une danseuse du ventre de l'Afrique du Sud, des membres de la mafia israélienne, des chefs cuisiniers de la Colombie, un prof de tango de Buenos Aires, un champion de karaté de Téhéran et une collection de musiciens, hôtesses de club, écrivains, vendeurs ambulants, hippies et autres globe-trotteurs.

345 DAYS AWAY FROM YOU
The turning point to my stay in Japan. Yoshi, the landlord, had a strange collection of old appliances that littered the house. Appliances of all shapes and sizes....fridges, ovens, washers......none of them were in working order. One old bar fridge was in my room. At that point, I didn't have a roommate. Somehow, the fridge was leaking this stagnant, stinky, watery mess and ended up flooding some of my belongings including a photograph of a girl from back home that I liked.......

Let's just say that I confirmed the theory that fridges are not meant to be airborne as I threw it out a second floor window.

Two days later, I had booked my flight to Korea.....

Le point tournant de mon temps au japon. Yoshi, le propriétaire, avait une collection de vieux appareils ménagers... des réfrigérateurs, des machines à laver, des cuisinières. qui ne marchaient plus. Il y avait un vieux frigo de bar dans ma chambre. À ce moment, je n'avais pas de cols. Le frigo s'est mis à couler une eau nauséabonde sur mes affaires dont une photo d'une de mes copines......

Disons que j'ai vérifié la théorie que les frigos ne sont pas aérodynamiques en la balançant d'une fenêtre du deuxième étage.

Deux jours plus tard, j'ai confirmé mon vol pour la Corée.

FOR KIRSTEN
Kirsten was ...and probably still is..... a nice girl from New Zealand. She asked me to write a song and so there it is....

Kirsten était... et elle est sûrement toujours..... une belle fille de la Nouvelle Zélande qui m'a demandé d'écrire une chanson pour elle...

BELA LUGOSI
Bela..... Henry Ford...... FDR.... Kennedy..... Babe Ruth...... we often look back at the past with fondness, somewhat dismissing things that we tend to want to forget such as the two world wars, communists, the depression, exploitation of workers, racism, polio and our lives being governed by superstitious clergymen. You know, those quote-unquote "good old days".......

Of course, we have evolved, we now have preemptive wars, terrorists, environmental damage, racism, aids and our lives being governed by superstitious religious leaders...........oh well..........

Bela..... Henry Ford...... FDR... Kennedy..... Babe Ruth...... on regarde souvent le passé avec nostalgie en oubliant certains détails comme les deux guerres mondiales, le communisme, la grande dépression, l'exploitation des ouvriers, le racisme, le polio et nos petites vies dominés par des religieux superstitieux......

Bien sûr, on a bien évolué. Aujourd'hui, on a la guerre préventive, le terrorisme, les problèmes environnementaux, le racisme, le sida et nos vies affectés par des chefs religieux superstitieux........

THE ENGLISH HOUSE
....A farewell to old days....innocent times...something like that.

The English House was something called a "gaijin house" ....which was a place to live or to stay. A cross between a youth hostel and an apartment. Travelers, backpackers, buskers and foreign language teachers would stay in these places when traveling in Japan because they were cheap compared to hotels and youth hostels. Some people would only stay the night, others such would live there for years. Some were nice and some were dirty and noisy but you would always find an interesting crowd hanging out in these places.

My stay at the English House was a sort of declaration of independence ( or an equivalent of a military service depending on the mood I was ). One thing for sure is that I have met some incredible examples of Homo Sapiens in that place.

....Un "au revoir" a une époque de ma vie... la jeunesse..... quelque chose comme ça...

"The English House" était ce qu'on appelle au japon une "gaijin house" qui se traduit en une maison pour étrangers. Une sorte de croisement entre une auberge de jeunesse et un appartement. Les globe-trotters sac à dos, les musiciens de rue, les profs de langues et autres voyageurs y séjournaient parce que c'était moins cher que les hôtels et les auberges. Certains ne restaient qu'une nuit, d'autres y habitaient pendant des années. Certains gaijin houses étaient très bien et conviviaux et d'autres l'étaient moins. Une chose certaine était qu'on y rencontrait une faune humaine très intéressante.

Mon séjour au English House a été pour moi une sorte de déclaration d'indépendance ( ou un genre de service militaire dépendamment des jours. Mais il se forgeait dans cette maison des amitiés solides que je n'oublierai jamais.