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Nowhere

from Domestic by Paul Armfield

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    Vinyl version of the Domestic album. (please note that this is not the deluxe box with prints this is available only from paularmfield.com or from concerts)

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    Contained within a matt black cardboard box are square cards with reproductions of Paul's original linocuts with lyrics on the reverse, as well as the CD. Signed, numbered limited edition of 1000 copies

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about

Brexit touched a very raw nerve with me. The idea of an EU imposed homogeneity and impotency is a myth too readily believed by the majority. I believe that there is an ignorance and a fear borne of our insularity and our lack of regular interaction with or any meaningful experience of other countries in europe and elsewhere.
The song paints a fairly ugly portrait of the typical brit, thuggish and badly dressed, clinging to the Imperial measurements quoted in verse 2. The line 'with rocks in our pockets' suggests someone simultaneously armed for violence and ready for suicide.
The middle 8 mocks our lack of worldiness, as the hapless englishman stands dazzled by the foreign sun, with clothes inappropriate for the heat.
The last verse paints a sad picture of British society, the crows pulling up the green shoots of hope refers to the crows I see on the roofs of our poorly maintained high streets, where the only greenery is growing in the gutters neglected by greedy landlords unconcerned with reinvesting in the often beautiful buildings that they bleed for profit.
The final pessimism of the song suggests that voting isn't changing anything, we're stuck with this insular mentality: we ain't going nowhere

lyrics

When the party is over we're the last ones to know
But the first ones to leave when the time comes to go
With scabs on our knuckles and grease in our hair
With rocks in our pockets we ain't going nowhere

With miles in the headlights and stones round our waist
With a left-handed awkwardness to Dover with haste
Blinking shortsightedly with a thousand-yard-stare
With no smiles on our passports 'cause we ain't going nowhere

We ain't going nowhere, not a hint of the breeze in our hair
Not a hint of a clue what to wear
We foolishly stare at the sun
Blinded by the glare, unable to see what we've done
Standing there trousers undone
English and foolish and dumb Ignorant, arrogant, numb
We ain't going nowhere

Pulling together on both ends of a rope
While the crows in the guttering pull up the green shoots of hope
Signing crosses on ballot sheets like kisses on air
As we wave from the terminal, 'cause we ain't going nowhere

credits

from Domestic, released September 4, 2020
Paul Armfield: vocals, fender rhodes bass
Giolio Cantore: cavaquinho, mandolin, percussion
Max Braun: acoustic & electric guitars, harmonium, glockenspiel
Gabriel Schütz: drums
Written by Paul Armfield
Produced by Max Braun
Recorded at Areal 51, Stuttgart
Mastered by Gabriel Schütz
Linocuts by Paul Armfield

©&℗ 2020 PSA records
PSA002LP

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