in which you find out you're not dead

so, i know it will come as a shock that i am yet, again, praising music from scotland, but i am! broken records is so worth a listen, friends.





plus, they always have the BEST song titles. a few favorites from their last album:

* thoughts on a picture (in a paper, january 2009)
* if the news makes you sad, don't watch it
* if eilert loevborg wrote a song, it would sound like this

their new album, let me come home, debuted this week in great britain (why the american delay? sigh), and my favorite off of it has to be you know you're not dead. there's just something so undeniably lovely about this song - maybe it's the heartfelt lyrics set against relentless pacing, maybe it's because the melody is sweet yet dark. maybe it's because it rises and swells and takes you with it for a ride. maybe it's the violin fighting for domination with the guitars. take your pick.

send me the note that i might know with all my aching heart
send me the dirt that i might hold so that i know where to start
and send me a love, for i am not wretch
send me a life, i am not wretch
for my aching heart
for my aching heart

and send me a hope so i might hold ‘cause all my body aches
send me the earth so i might put the sweater upon a stake
send me a hope that i may not wretch
send me a hope, that i may not wretch
for my aching heart
for my aching

‘cause the worst,
can you not see?
that nothing else matters
‘cause you are my bones
and you are my arms
so come on, come
you know you’re not dead
you know you’re my heart
you know you’re not open wide

and sing out the notes so i can hear just like when we’re alone
sing out the notes so they can burn a pattern across the soul
sing me the notes so that i can learn
sing me the notes so i can learn
before my aching heart
before my aching heart

‘cause the worst
can you not see?
nothing else matters
‘cause you are my bones
you are my arms
so come on, come
you know you’re not dead
you know you’re my heart
you know you’re not open wide

so bury me in weighty dreams
oh, you were my home
bury me in dreams of growing old
with you in my arms
so bury me
oh, bury me

send me a note so i may know with all my aching heart
send me the dirt that i might hold so that i know where to start
send me a life, for i am not wretch
send me a life, for i am not wretch
cure my aching heart

(mp3) you know you're not dead by broken records (via crime waves)