1. |
Sliding Up A Rope
05:41
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Sliding up a rope,
clinging on with my paws.
I've no claws to keep me put, but
a great sense of need.
Perhaps my head is upside down and I am slowly falling.
And so I let go with most of my paws;
two keep or one keeps me gripping.
And as such it is that I spin around.
Following the bane of a cork.
Perhaps my head is upside down and I am slowly falling.
I close my eyes and hit the ground and view some drops of steam.
Along with them a filthy dust leaves a layer of grey on me.
I shed my skin and peel my eyes and view the clouds/lakes so green.
Perhaps my head was upside down
Perhaps my head was upside down
Perhaps my head was upside down
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2. |
Puffery
07:09
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Standing on a grain of sand,
sliding towards the waist of the glass.
Time stands still until you fall.
Buried in a pile of sand,
you turn into a bee.
And buzz your way out of the glass.
Keeping track of the pollen,
keeping track of the honey,
and the flowers.
Clinging to the muddy ground,
spreading all your seeds with the wind,
your soul is scattered to every corner of the world.
Landing on the salty waves,
you turn into a boat
and rush your way to shore.
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3. |
Mosesang #1
07:05
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It's warm down here in the moss,
down where the world is mostly green and we say:
You will give to me and I will give to you,
'cos there'll always be more.
More in the morning, more before rest,
more in the evening and all together at night.
Our hammocks dangle between the trunks of the moss.
Pushing the sunlight to dance and flicker when the sun sets a breeze.
And so we lean against the bark and watch.
Taking turns in bringing new brews from the grey earl.
He who mixes citrussy essence in the old black leaves.
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4. |
Ned Ei Elv
04:37
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I en boks
ned ei elv
lokke e lokka
men du ligg å søv.
Når du våkne ser du at
luka lar sæ åpne ganske lætt.
Ute på havet
duppende rundt
nada land å ta te
men du e varm og tørr.
Speide ut i ingenting og finn lykke og ro.
Ro ro ro ro ro ro ro ro.
Ro ro ro ro ro ro ro ro.
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5. |
Lars Goes Hunting
05:47
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Grinding my way through the rosehips and thistlesI sharpen my teeth for the next mile.
Biting a path through the brushes so thick I gather some fruits for when I get home.
To you (on the floor, of the great green hall).
In ours.
Diving might just not be great for my tonsils when forty-three bars squeeze me through and throughout.
An urchin from Murchin will trade me his roe and I proudly bring sacks of it home.
To you (on the floor, of the great green hall).
In ours.
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6. |
Horses In The Sky
08:39
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Aaaaaaaaaa.
Aaaaaaaaaa.
Aaaaaaaaaa.
Lllllllllllllllllllll.
Lllllllllllllllllllll.
Lllllllllllllllllllll.
Æææ.
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7. |
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With boots,
we stay dry.
With boots we stay dry
from the liquid mind we're wading in.
It nurtures
the soil.
It nurtures the soil
from furthest away;
we're leaning in.
Gathering wool from the bogs.
Gathering wool from the bogs.
Gathering
wool
from the bogs.
With boots,
we stay dry.
With boots we stay dry
from the liquid mind
we're wading in.
We spin and knit.
We spin and knit.
We spin and knit.
We spin and knit.
We spin and knit.
We spin and knit.
Spin and knit and
Spin and knit and
Spin and knit and
Spin and knit and
Knit and spin and
Knit and spin and
Knit and spin and
Knit and spin and
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Stilk Trondheim, Norway
Stilk is a psychedelic rock band formed in London in spring 2015 by singer/guitarist/composer Markus Karijord. Escaping the
dysptopian pits of The Big Smoke, Markus went back to his home town Trondheim in autumn 2015 where drummer Geir Anfinn Johansen and bassist Øyvind Wahl joined the quest for pastoral bliss.
Our music is:
¤Simple, modal, naive, drony, noisy, surreal, grounded.
... more
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