We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Nightingale

by Anniversaire

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $11 USD

     

1.
You said you miss having dreams. It’s getting expensive to sleep. Drugged out or filling the frame, your mind takes you places you hate. Outlines, shapes in the spheres; hours are seconds to hear metal cast in our years; powerless to engineers. Cold, freeze in the heat, fountains of ink could never explain these colorless hues; amethyst fumes choke out the haze. Haven’t we been here before? Chemical weather from your century spent with machines; limitless discovery! Clockwork, wind in the leaves; metal forged under the sea. Brave, speak, whisper to me, “I don’t think we should believe...” No, we should stay here, we pioneers, with feet in the ground. Oh, we should then sing, hymns of the sea, with ash in our mouths. Yes, we should stay here, orphaned frontiers will bloom in our hands. Hey, withering fields listen and yield a harvest from sand. Come love, and leave all our things behind. Nothing we do makes sense at the time. Down in the dirt we will lay our heads; down in that flowerless flower-bed. ‘Cause we’re already, already, already, already dead.
2.
There’s a moment, it haunts like a verse, of a sonnet yet to be heard from your sweet voice. Every line of your hand was a way, I could follow, right with the rain into your skin. I want to take you apart you are a lost work of art that I’ve just found. Let all the measurable things be cursed and cast in the sea, to sink and drown. ‘Cause we don’t need to remember how every day of December killed us, how every crack made us colder, how every hour made us old and nameless. Don’t turn away now; don’t run away now. It’s easy to do. Don’t dread the headwinds, they sweep this way to cleanse; to make us new. Come back to me when you are where you need to be.
3.
F. Sonata 04:39
Dear, you’ve gone for now. I’m left up here with songs and photographs; magic souvenirs. There the chandeliers go dark for you. Patrons in their best; entrances on cue. But does it all make nothing of us? ‘Cause here the curtains close on you, you see. Roses on the floor; cheers from only me. Views are fine indeed from balconies, but wouldn’t it be grand if we were Old Paris? Les lumières sont lumineuses quand personne n'est autour. I will not forget that moonlit flight to our castle in the air.
4.
The colder it gets it’s sure to hypnotize; sure to cover all of us with dark, unflinching night. When thoughts of the grave churn and come alive, don’t forget to quiet down and hum yourself to sleep. And then recall what you said, “Beauty is what we receive from the barren creek bed, and branches that fall from the trees.” When you awake, while you’re lying there with your windows frozen shut; they’re hard (those dreams) to shake. But we can take them and mix in some violet where there was only iron-grey. And watch them flower into, all the blushing of May; naked and birthed in the rain. And when the swelling allays, be cast into soil again.
5.
I know the feeling. It comes to me too, with all the sway and tilt of ships, jarred and anchor-less. You want the frame focused, you clutch the trembling lens, and hold your breath to find that nothing seems as it is. So we progress, if at a crawl, and the clocks, well they’re chiming on; mechanical laughter. You wrote a song that could make the orchids bloom. But what’s the point, when all you wanted was God to prove, that they are more than seeds, that we are more than thieves, and this acyclic birth is more than just chemistry? But we are met with the hollow ring of that massive white noise sea. The static. The sinless. Counting machines are choking down pendulum swings; ceaselessly asking, “How can we be so removed?”
6.
Tele-visions 04:44
Where have you been? Was it one thing, when you wanted two? No, you said it best, “Let the water cleanse and cover you.” ‘Cause in between every wire and screen, the images come through; the monochrome, that we’ve known as home, has split to red, green and blue. Where did I go, that you move in code and foreign turns? The buildings arranged with the cracks and made our lines converge. So we asked the night, “Could you please provide?” And she carved out brand new stairs. Up we went, weaponry in hand, and we fired every prayer we had. But is it enough, is it enough, is it? Tell me (slowly now) do you think we are getting through? Our mouths have gone dry, but maybe it’s all we can do. So heat up some tea, let it spread with speed through every bone. And turn down the bed, singing to forget the months alone, with all of these dark, fragmented scenes that swirl inside your brain. And we will dream of the fever tree to cool our lips with leaves and rain. But is it enough, is it enough is it? Tell me (quickly now!) do you think we are getting through? Our tongues have unfurled and proudly they calcimined fly. From your single-bed, twisted sheets and alarm clock red. You’ve been here before, but now it seems all that exists.
7.
Gossamer 03:02
With a kiss, champagne, wit, she was all violins; and a few hours older. Northern belle. Beauty started her war. Say farewell to fairy tales, the sins of men have hollowed out. But in the rain, she walks with her heart set. One by one they fall asleep. So unaware, she walks with her heart set; her will set. Soon enough they’ll all regret the neon glow of her gossamer nights.
8.
You fingered quickly on the window wet, “Don’t cave in and don’t you dare forget.” You thought that best, ‘cause you could wipe it all away. And in your busy brain you often felt that you were enveloped by the sea. The trouble seems, to me, that that’s just what you need; a chance to fit the Atlantic deep in your pockets, where no one can dry you out. You used to drive a lot, alone at night, and head up north, away from sickening light, from shallow sky, to watch the houses all go dark. But now the city lines are farther out and you can’t escape the maddening, speeding sprawl. You can’t move on to somewhere a little less severe. You and I have compromised; that burn in our throats is our own fault. But we are not some ruined clocks, no we move with exacting precision; never too slow.
9.
A numbered language and a leveled lens, aimed at the dark heavens, were meant to send the points of white and yellow light into a spin. I was too young to tell the world was well along. And while the children sing of wisdom seen throughout the history of crook and king, we’ll pour the wine and plan to try and do the same. I will never keep you out. I’ll never let this cold house keep you down. This foolish enterprise should come as no surprise to you, we’ve filled these halls with our darkened thoughts. And all we’ll ever need is courage to come clean again, just like the state of the elements. And heaven knows just how this hell can grow, like a single-cell, it leaves us reaching for the nearest switch to turn. And we can curse the light, or move with time for once.
10.
Is there a reason we’re all nerves and angled? Your pose and posture a worn courier, say we were once a tree all roots and tangles; and now we hunt for seeds like winter birds. Let’s take from this what we must take from this, and close your eyes, (they’ve bared enough for now) I know that you have been afraid, you’re scared that this might not be nearly as beautiful as you had hoped, but don’t be scared if we are here alone. The snow still falls, and we still have a home. You bend and curve your frame much sooner lately. Is it to cry yourself to sleep? Or pray? If I could be the mender I’d be at sea, gathering the wind, the whales and waves, to take apart what we must take apart, to get you well, (you’re needed desperately) The stars, the crests, are spiraling. We won’t explode. We won’t burst open wide, (open wide to windward side!) and we will hide, and measure out our grain. We must survive. We must stay alive.
11.
Luscinia 06:16
You went missing, turned to grey. Left in downpour, left to stay. Conjured city in my memory. Architecture vanishing. Warping features. All these strangers moving backward. Children’s voices, echoed in the old cathedral. Was it for you?

credits

released January 7, 2011

All music written and arranged by Anniversaire
Lyrics by Aaron Jordan
Anniversaire is:
Aaron Jordan – piano, Rhodes, celeste, trombone, vocals
Megan Siebe – cello, vocals
Benjamin Eberly – percussion
Travis Ahrenholtz – bass, auxiliary percussion, celeste, glockenspiel, vocals, vibraphone
Produced by Anniversaire
Recorded by Luke Mabie at Arc Studios in Omaha, Nebraska
Mixed by Jason Burkum at The Green Room in Omaha, Nebraska
Mastered by Doug Van Sloun at Focus Mastering in Omaha, Nebraska
Additional musicians:
Jessica Kellner: violin on Measure for Measure, In a Field of White…
Kacie Burkum: vocals on Seeds & Thieves
St. Cecilia Choir: Anniversaire, Kacie Burkum and Michael Childers
Painting by Walker Plank

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Anniversaire Omaha, Nebraska

"Anniversaire has a bright future by writing artistic pop music, colored by disparate pieces including orchestral music, Death Cab For Cutie-style hushed indie pop and moody early 2000's Brit-pop." - The Reader

contact / help

Contact Anniversaire

Streaming and
Download help

Report this album or account

If you like Anniversaire, you may also like: