A Connemara Songbook - Landed​/​Lullaby (2000​-​1)

by Stephen Hero

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03:28
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03:14
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06:02
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03:21
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04:08
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04:17
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03:12
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about

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Tracks 1-7 originally released as 'Landed' (Rag001)
Tracks 8-11 out-takes from 'Landed'
Tracks 12-13 demos
Tracks 14-19 originally released as 'Lullaby' (Rag002)
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In 1999 Patrick moved from London to the Irish wilds of Connemara to purify his soul and pursue the heart of noise. Here he wrote and recorded the first two Stephen Hero EP's and released them on his own Ragoora Records. 'Landed' was released in 2000 and 'Lullaby' in 2001. These took the bare bones of Kitchens of Distinction's songwriting hallmarks and moulded them anew with drum machines, samplers and, of course, effected guitars some of which are by his former bandmate Julian. Lyrically his themes moved from an isolated urban anger to a search for new shores, away from a world that had merely shrugged rather than fallen truly in love. "A Connemara Songbook" comprises these first two EP's and adds in previously unreleased demos and out-takes written and recorded from the same period.


Mojo, Independent Album of the Month, UK, January 2001 (Landed)


Gay Times, Album of the Month, UK, January 2001 (Landed)


The Independent on Sunday, UK, 29th October 2000 (Landed)

"The English music scene doesn't welcome genuine mavericks. Despite a series of fine records and healthy US sales, Patrick Fitzgerald's former band Kitchens of Distinction were never really fashionable, though Fitzgerald's openly gay lyrics were ground-breaking, and their phosphorescent guitar sound echoes through Radiohead's OK Computer. This self-released mini-album is his best work since Kitchens valedictory masterpiece, Cowboys and Aliens. From the scowling stomp of The Nobel Prize is Mine to the widescreen psychedelia of A Howl ? at 3am, these songs evince a hard won defiance; but also a delirious sense of freedom. Landed is often a dark, even bleak record, but it sparkles like mica."


Hot Press 10/12 , Ireland, May 9th 2001 (Lullaby)


Q Magazine ****, UK, July 2001 (Lullaby)


Gay Times , UK, May 2001 (Lullaby)

"Patrick Fitzgerald, who we should all stop referring to as "from The Kitchens of Distinction", has released a second solo album already. Languid, lush and lovely, it's his best work since "Love is Hell"."

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credits

released September 29, 2011

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'Landed' (Rag001) - October 2000
'Lullaby' (Rag002) - May 2001
Originally Released by Ragoora Records

All Songs and Recordings by Patrick Fitzgerald

Additional Players (Landed)

Drums and Programming by Dave Morgan
Guitar and Effects by Julian Swales
Keyboard on Childhood Poetry by Karl Harris


Additional Players (Lullaby)

Drums by Dave Morgan

Landed
© Patrick Fitzgerald - London/Cashel 1999
℗ Momentum Music Ltd

Lullaby
© Patrick Fitzgerald - Cashel 2000
℗ Momentum Music Ltd

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about

PATRICK FITZGERALD Manchester, UK

Patrick Fitzgerald is the singer and bass player in Kitchens of Distinction, the master of ceremonies behind the band of freaks known as Fruit, one half of mystery duo Lost Girls and the guiding light of Stephen Hero. He has been releasing records under all these guises and more since 1987 ... more

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Track Name: Walden
Still wait for waves to come to carry us to some land...
Track Name: Land
We wait for waves to come to carry us to some land. We wait on this stinking ship to be braver men. Land, land, a place to call home, a quiet hall, a fire's roar, a simple God with sixteen hands, a simple sleep with few demands. Want a wave to pull me down to land. And, and, a shopping mall, a Chinese cinema in which to forget it all. Meryl Streep and pornography, summer's soma and it's all over. (To drink to sleep and not to dream). We watched the men get caught, it wasn't supposed to hurt. Saw what happened to the girl...
Track Name: A Howl? at 3 a.m.
Darkly, sweetly, comes the Lethe. Darkly it carries us beneath the shade. Down, down, into hell itself to meet my friend howling at the boxes packed with his history. Come outside the air is big and we can breathe. Come outside the sky is huge and we won't bleed. Pulling on his soul's remains (we can) take it for walks. Promise coffee, beer, and a light, not who is wrong (and the why's and the won't's). Here, drink this Lethe, forget your sin and walk with me. Up, up, into the forest shade where we can sleep. Too much boxed-alone thinking, head in solaced hands. Here comes the spring air that carries the chatter of life's rich winners. Here comes the sweet air that carries the laughter of us rich winners. Too much television thinking (in American).
Track Name: Krave
We hope for clouds, we hope for storms, we watch for weather systems. The television is 8 feet wide, we travel through double rainbows. We got the cloud, we got the storms. We've got the cloud, we've got the storms. We stop the car and listen. Sleek black hair a fountain of relief, stinking of perfume, lavender and rosemary Christmas is wrapped up in green ormolu. Paint your house silver: a Canova please in each room. Where go we tonight? Done in Leopard's Hall. Where go we tonight? At the Fall of Bridges. Where go we tonight? A bar across the (eyes)(ice?), tight in a staircase light. Raven of Lisbon with those trees in his hair. Floor-length green dresses hitched up BBQ, and posh tea with Stephen, Gertrude and the Dead. We wrote these ritzy pages, my sweet and visionary mmmm. Pharmacopeia in the palace of Madrid. Walls of cut bottles, poisons and reliefs. You showed me all these things, my sweet itinerary, stinking of perfume, lavender and take me to Tokyo...
Track Name: The Nobel Prize is Mine
10am. Drunk again. Is this the style of writer's with prizes? These sour thoughts won't pretty the world. I'll piss instead on the bleach blocks where they rest. The season of gin has relaxed me again. And I love my dear wife, she says: "Oh John, why today?" My face a stamp, postcard 45c. I'm smiling head-on so write something witty; like 'I hang in pools near smiling boys', I'm pure in deed though I thought to (suck his cock) leave this world. The sorrow of lust has forced me to thrust my point home in shame. She says: "Oh John, why today?" It has come too late, this prize. Battled out. The tyres have squealed. Who have I hit? Do they need assistance? I'm qualified in indifference, care and concern, and drunkenness a connoisseur. The season of gin has bedded me again. I die my dear wife, accept this prize for me.
Track Name: Childhood Poetry
Burning childhood poetry, burning childhood memory, on the fire....
Track Name: Being Brave
i got something i want i need in front of me being brave i touch you take you simplicity because you travel me to good and companion me to hope laughing and dancing close laughing in dreams tonight of eye flowers you'll grow eye flowers rare and gold you've got something i need i'll share no consequence i've got something i've got something we've got something high flyin' sea horse's tails i'm taking something i want i need no consequence.
Track Name: Lullaby for a broken dog
Didn't mean to push you.
I know you didn't mean to fall,
and now you're all in pieces on the wooden floor.
It must have been the anatomy book,
something thick and heavy,
that's left you barkless.
And your brother on the shelf,
quite beside himself.
Track Name: Lull 2 (hamlet was a prince)
The moon has done her make-up and you have such bad teeth. Yes she has blacked her lashes and you have broken teeth. She slips out to aid the stars that light your romantic bliss. Cruel bitch she exaggerates all that is amiss. It haunts you, you beg to be released. It taunts you, you beg but to dream. Try and sleep here tonight. Imaginary mothers forgive and cleave their child, cooing an 'OK', 'alright', into gluey eyes. Coaxing a growing upthrusting rocket life. Imagine this, impossible that, to soar without a fight. The right to sleep allowed and clean inside this labyrinth. A bullish moan, a hero's flight, a night in ancient Greece. The moon is done she's sleeping now, your happy hopes are crushed. The moon will rise beautiful And you will turn to dust.
Track Name: Lull 5 (venus slipped)
I'll show you sleep on a hammer headed beach, with the rain tap stopped and the surf appeased under geometric duvet skies. Empty giant fan shells, empty giant fans, orange as sunsets. Did I tell the story of the sodden immodest body? The swollen face and the bloom of bruises her ankles re-shaped and useless. Where the rope had lunch and that rope had dinner. The rope had lunch and then sleep was upon her. The rope had lunch and the rope had dinner. The rope had lunch and then sleep was upon her. Only trying to scare you Nothing bad's ever happened here Get back to tanning why don't you... Empty giant fan shells, empty giant fans.
Track Name: Lull 3 (night fairy guide)
Sweet honey milk, teaspoons of jam, musical boxes, treasures in hand for a dream with the night's Fairy Guide, winged, unleaden, light... to a golden tree land and golden sky sands, silver castle dogs with moons to count - three! And your dark slumber hair (your dark slumber hair) Perfect kisses, OH! Rainbow rich promises, to keep you hers, for ever more.
Track Name: Lull 4 (I know who is sick)
I know who is sick, I know who should worry, I know who is guilty, I know who is sleepless, with fingers crossed and filled teeth grinding, I know who is faking, I know who is hiding, I know who was careless in honour and friendship, and certain opinions on the rightness of things, I know who was noble, I know who deserving, I know who stood sly and gave us all away, crying 'Surrender!' 'Surrender!' Flowergundaddream on an achy belly, I done had a dream now got an achy belly. I know who is sick, I know who is over.
Track Name: Lull 1 (feed me on the banks of the river nile afterlife)
Hush, he's quiet now. Hush, be quiet now. I can feel his cloak about my shoulder. The footsteps on the creaky boards, Jane, is he coming with our gifts? He's walking fast, he's breathing thick. He's walking fast, he's breathing quick. Can you hear the curlew outside? Pull the blanket tight. Whisper 'I love you, still'. Can you hear his breath inside? Pull the blanket tight. Whisper 'it's alright you can go...' The footsteps on the creaky boards, Jane, is he coming with our gifts? He's walking fast, he's breathing quick. The hammer on the wooden floor, Jane, is he coming with my sleep? I'm beating fast, I'm breathing quick. Beating fast, I'm breathing thick. Feed me on the banks of the River Nile afterlife...
Track Name: Hamlet Was A Prince (04:57 Radio Edit)
The moon has done her make-up and you have such bad teeth. Yes she has blacked her lashes and you have broken teeth. She slips out to aid the stars that light your romantic bliss. Cruel bitch she exaggerates all that is amiss. It haunts you, you beg to be released. It taunts you, you beg but to dream. Try and sleep here tonight. Imaginary mothers forgive and cleave their child, cooing an 'OK', 'alright', into gluey eyes. Coaxing a growing upthrusting rocket life. Imagine this, impossible that, to soar without a fight. The right to sleep allowed and clean inside this labyrinth. A bullish moan, a hero's flight, a night in ancient Greece. The moon is done she's sleeping now, your happy hopes are crushed. The moon will rise beautiful And you will turn to dust.