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HARRY STAFFORD​/​MARCO BUTCHER​-​DRINKER AND OUT

by Marco Butcher

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1.
DRINKER AND OUT 07:11
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2.
CITY OF THIEVES 04:20
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Recorded between Manchester and Winston Salem 2021.
produced by Harry Stafford, Marco Butcher and Allie Jade Butcher.

Harry Stafford: vocals, pianos and guitars
Marco butcher: guitars, drums, keys and horns.

DRINKER AND OUT

I'll see you down the drinker Tim said last night

I count the wet downward steps to the eternal public house

Alex greets me, but I’m not an essential customer

Con and Jimmy, Arthur and Jerry are even less profitable but essential

They are 11 to 11 regulars; their business is booze.

Despite the sticky carpet Alex keeps an ordered house

He entertains an obdurate pool tournament every Friday

Jimmy is invincible and completely fucking pissed

“If only we had a Pool army of men like him”, the general says

He ghosts about the table winning effortless games as potted balls

Echo like cold rocks into a dustbin of empty dreams.

He is the carryout man, the 11.30 ‘get te fuck, ya bas!’ Man.

Blank eyes of brick red belligerence, he’s pushing 35, you know?

The night is frozen, the sleet like horizontal static pushes us around

And like the driving hedonistic drones we have become we forge into . . . town.

But we don’t get far, the crossroads is enough, The hacienda glows with hope.

A cavern measureless to man, we file in and sit cold amongst the vastness.

A beat that crosses from wall to wall and tells us, ‘You’re No good’

I knew this already, but I have to step upon an empty dance floor

‘you’re no Good’, I know, I know . . . just let me dance.

Arms and legs I have no sense of right or wrong, a dance of despair.

There’s a band on tonight you know? Really who might that be?

“Ein-stur-zenda-Noi-bawten or something, bunch of daft Germans”

I see my friend Dave on stage, he is the OZ PA crew, and he looks nervous.

He never normally looks nervous, ‘hey man what’s happening?’

“These guys are completely off their heads,” He shudders,

“The singer has just drunk a litre of Vodka?”

Is that a bad thing? I ask in my 22-year-old heroic stupidity.

“Well, they have power tools.” Dave offers.

One man’s logistics is another young man’s ultimate gig

Blixa strips away the need for risk assessment or set lists

He moves the goal posts and the station pillars

“Ich bin ein pneumatischer Bohrer!!”

‘Alles es gut?’ but it probably isn’t, and I don’t give a fuck!!

A whole unforgiving, inexplicable, 60 minutes of impenetrable noise

Without a doubt the Best fucking gig of my short life ‘Fütter Mein Ego’.

When the going gets pneumatic rase it to the fucking ground! More!!

Later. Not much later . . .

The Taxi takes us somewhere into the night and the yellow streetlights

Outside salmon cabs, chicken and dumplings, greasy and dry in the drizzle

A mad warrior in a grass skirt of belts and nakedness refuses to pay

I ain’t got any fuckin’ Money . . . The dumplingman knows this and sucks his teeth

Inside a house, just a house, now a blues now a late-night crucial brew

Dark red and orange gels the fading, fairy lights of the inferno

Smoke like a poisoned fog bank embeds, absorbs the floating sound attack

Turntable and two rig traffic disco lights flash against the need to flee

‘What are we doing here?’ I ask, ‘Getting some weed’ a voice not mine said

Dreadlocks matted into a square the size of a shoe box points his arthritic finger at me

Eighteen he says, Tim greases him two tens, doesn’t expect change, but gets it.

Wait here! The unpromising words in a fragile transaction. Say.

More bass, likkle treble. Stop dancing with Belinda! You are attracting attention

We stop it makes it worse, the walls are lined with smoking tables

Carl sees us and tells us to go, but . . .

This blues ain’t for you, a bag is stuck into Tim’s shaking hand, we vanish.

The blue light mixes with the yellow and the rain falls on fuck you flags,

Tim finds that Belinda has followed him out, I know a place she says.

I know, I know nothing Mrs Philosopher I’m outta here, I think.

But instead say I’m gonna split which is worse, as endgame announcements.

Which way is home?

credits

released November 15, 2021

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Marco Butcher Winston Salem, North Carolina

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