In Arnica

by Marmalakes

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(free) 03:28


released May 1, 2012

Recorded by Keith Gary at the residence of Kevin Benoit
Mixed by Keith Gary and Marmalakes at the residence of Michael Reyes
Produced by Marmalakes and Keith Gary
Mastered by Erik Wofford at Cacophony Recorders in Austin, Texas
Cover art by Marmalakes

Special thanks to Keith Gary, Rupert Neve Designs, Kevin Benoit, Michael Brown, Michael Reyes, Travis Newman, Evan Kaspar, Linda Halpern, David Halpern, Katelyn Halpern, Zoe Colonna, Beth Evans Colonna, Kurtis Colonna, Cathy Ford Weinacht, Charles Weinacht, Bill Weinacht, our friends, supporters and listeners.


tags: pop Austin


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Marmalakes Austin

MARMALAKES is a rock band from Austin, TX. Dynamic and lyrically-attentive, their songs carry folk-pop sensibilities.

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Track Name: Septimus Warren Smith
Septimus Warren Smith
Left me with the scattered bits
Who knew, what the scraps can do

Whistle with me oh why won’t you
And laugh at the baffling state of the new
The deaf lady in the laundry room
Still made out my mouth-made ooh

So constantly in I-N-G
From memory I am swimming
I don’t carry a camera, I’ve got eyes
Pedal-snap-pedal I pocket the prize

Septimus Warren Smith
Showed me the significance
Of space, between mouth and page

Whistle with me why won’t you now
And relay the mouth’s way of wow
You can look for a reason
If you sing while you’re seeking
There’s no etiquette needed
Just shape and to breathe
It is here, it is here, it is here

Whenever it comes my E-N-D
Hope the graveyard attendees
Will whistle while they carry me
Bury me
Track Name: Dolores
The night stands upright in armor
Topping stair-steps built for kings
Exuding only one expression
A face of daring rigidity

The floor is encased in Arnica
Miner’s Candles and fleeting Fleabane
Occasionally a Queen’s Crown comes along
And demands, a pearly white face

Sparkles down the canyon
Ribbons waver in disbelief
There is no force I can fathom
That could convince me now to leave

Strolling out of her boundary
Trolling for treasure and higher beings
She sank into a spell of defeat
Oh Dolores, your tears are so sweet
Oh Dolores, your tears are too sweet

Sparkles down the canyon
Ribbons waver in disbelief
There is no force I can fathom
That could convince me now to leave

There is no use panning for gold
When the treasure can plainly be seen
Oh Dolores, truth be told
You are the only one for me
Track Name: Canvases of Lakes
Clashing edges – can they really kill?
As salty bubbles brim at sight well sills
Among the choirs of wind, wet and wing
Shall I uncrumple this so crumpled thing?

If men at forty want to sit and paint
And slates anew are canvases of lakes
The canvas, soiled, is a papery slice
Of a daymoon, low and lost,
Looking for highs, looking for highs

I am too young to study out my beard
A barber doesn’t put forth much to clear
The speech that could have hung with student ghosts
In the orchard air...are the apples hosts?
Or are they the soil giving toasts?
I think they are the soil holding toasts…up

Little kin, little jerky, cricket kin
Balding lovers are too airless to attend
Each quirky turn that they see black legs bend to,
As limbs do, they tie the loosened leavings
For the air the leapers are competing
Meeting for more than any lover sees
The two have been divided by belief

Scudding bright beside a pool of inklings
If only I could capture them with blinks:
The fleeting glimpses of expensive booms,
And store them in the sheets of hotel rooms,
To later make it with those sparks in frames,
When I am forty contemplating aches

My canvases, lake-filled, I will look high
I’ll slice the moon, but draw nightwater’s shine
The daymoon, at half-mast,
In the dark dies, in the dark dies

Yes, clashed edges really do kill
Choir-backed blades are made sharp still
On the thinking stone he wished to be
At my canvas with a new vision of sea

I will not play the flat historic scale
Though all I do in comparison pales
To the poet’s monocle upon the page
Through lifted uncle rime I can escape
And try to make a monocle of age
Though I am only twenty-two with tape
I sketch out the un-damming of the lake
For you to paint
Track Name: White Height
Ice swirls, mid-pour are gutter born
Live a hard, live a small span here
In the fit for shadow folds
That act as our northern corner coat

This winter night, the lack of light
is lessened by the ground's new height
new white height

Bright heat, circle we circle,
keep rays away don't crease up our clear cloak
do not trickle out such shadows
this coat may be cold, but I want it close
to cover us completely up in what clouds can

Hey Jon Cook
here I am, considering
here I am, clawing

This winter light in the lack of night
is emphasized by new white height
new white height

We're no longer in
This is not Austin
We're no longer in our city for one night