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The Queen’s Head Holy Mary destroyer of planets These dishes in the kitchen make me wish we weren’t married In your best suit you wait with expectation They bury you, tap the earth down, a welcome smile from Vishnu I’d like to buy everyone a drink But I have three shiny pennies The Queen’s head, the Queen’s head, the Queen’s head Not enough, not enough, not enough The mechanics of sanity are petrified and ossified They grind with dusty algorithms They do not run smooth They twist and jerk, and below them my madness grows I dream of clockwork men who dance in badly fitted shoes The fields the fields are green But the system, the system is against you This feeling on the ceiling grows but we are subterranean We have nowhere to fall This time next week we could be in Vegas Married and divorced and dead and in the undertakers In your best suit, you wait there at the altar You cry for me with one eye on the undertaker’s daughter
The Roaring Boy Gilda Gray danced the shimmy in the summer of ‘29 Though incidents and accidents were breaking in the brine Actresses are living in my mind Chorus lines are singing ‘please be kind’ You can have the world, and me I will become the Roaring Boy I will become the Roaring Boy Karloff tried to kiss me when he was still alive Through acetate and half inch tape we struggle to survive Vampire bats are living in my mind Try to love me darling, please be kind The big show saw to Bobby, in the summer of ‘45 Fearlessness and drunkenness had never left his side Fortresses are flying through the sky Destiny is cruel, please be kind
Monsters of the Deep You tried to sing the blues You tried to catch my fallen wings too soon You’re almost there I know things got confused But there are things that most men won’t refuse I’ll take you there You’ve got this feeling, you’ve got this feeling Like planets in your sleep Don’t know the reasons behind your dreams They’re like monsters of the deep One day I’ll move away Just pack a suitcase, no one should need more For less is more And as I pull away No tyre screech or Thunder Road cliché No engine’s roar And when you’re choosing When you’re choosing your life, watch out And in the playground When we’re picking our teams don’t leave me out
Bad Things 05:35
Bad Things Can’t believe you’re out, falling all about Causing all the wrong vibes Everything you do makes me think that you Don’t give a fuck tonight Bad things happen on the brink Happen when you drink Don’t you think? Good things happen to the good Happen when they should If they only would Most people think you’re mad You seem to have it bad Born in to the wrong time Daytime you wander streets, count the cars And heart beats, time leaks Oh lay me out Like you’re a cannon ball, a boxer or a wall Oh follow me Off to war or on the breeze or out to sea For any time, for a crime Would you like to wait in line? Old men have the same days as you They have the same point of view Aching but try not to let it show Oh for a dream, for anything My memory fails


Silver Bird Recordings 2019


released November 1, 2019

Neil Cousin - Acoustic Guitar, Vocals
Mark Remmington - Electric Guitar, Mandolin, Resonator Guitar, Vocals
Isi Clarke - Bass Guitar, Piano, Acoustic Bass Guitar, Vocals
Pete Saul - Drums

Produced by Isi Clarke at Grange Farm Studio, Emneth
Mastered by Denis Blackham at Skye Mastering

Original photograph courtesy of Mike McKelvie
Cover Model - Matthew 'Doghead' Stockman


all rights reserved



Neil Cousin and the Julia Sounds UK

Songs about nothing, stream of consciousness anecdotes and unreliable testimonies to events that never happened.

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