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Leaves from the Family Tree

by Polly Paulusma

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  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    Included is an artwork PDF booklet which contains all the lyrics and original artwork including the beautiful image from artist Rima Staines. And if that wasn't enough, own our home-spun video for 'Last Week Me' (shot in our back garden over 48 hours) in high quality!
    Purchasable with gift card

      £8 GBP  or more

     

1.
LAST WEEK ME If I were a time traveller, I'd climb inside my travelling ship and take a trip to find myself a week ago. And if myself could see me, and hear what now-me had to say, I wonder how I'd phrase it all to make me understand. Because last week me was a blissful, bumbling idiot bang-crash-landing through my days with nothing special on my mind. Yeah, last week me was that carefree, caring, safe guy, I was happy as a little mayfly, wasn't noticing the time, slipping by, by, by. And if I were a time traveller, I'd tell myself to spend some time with you, to stroke your hair and smell you for remembrance while I still could. But then I'd have to tell me the horror of the days to come, that happy me just living in the moment, and lying in the sun… And last week me was cocooned from doom-dread-brooding, bang-crash-landing through my days assuming everything's fine. Yeah, last week me was that carefree, caring, safe guy, I was happy as a little mayfly, swooping skyward in the sunshine! Oh, last week me didn't have a code to live by, thought you'd always be by my side, wasn't noticing the time, slipping by, by, by. If I were a time traveller, I'd write myself a cryptic song and play it on the radio one morning. And in that song I'd tell me to hold you tight and never let you go, to grab my gun and climb up on my rooftop, and fire out a warning… And last week me might have stopped washing the dishes, might have covered you in kisses before I'd wiped my hands dry. Yeah, last week me might have said, 'Come sit beside me,' might have emptied out the diary, 'sunny day, let's go outside!' Oh, but last week me was a blissful, bumbling idiot bang-crash-landing through my days with life's detritus on my mind. Yeah, last week me didn't know your hours were counted, took your warm fresh face for granted, didn't stop to say goodbye, say good-bye, bye, bye.
2.
BLOOD-RED COAT When the earth has turned to stone and the flowers have been sleeping forever, I put on my blood-red coat as a protest against this foul weather. And I can't keep it out forever, and I can't keep it in here much longer, because any day now, it's going to be spring. When my heart has turned to stone and my voice is the sound in a seashell, I put on my blood-red coat to remind me that G-d's in the detail. And I can't keep him out forever, and I can't keep him in here much longer because my bones are growing stronger and, any day now, my life's going to begin… like a butterfly! shed the skin of this other life! It's a sin to waste a minute I've been given, so begin it just as soon as I feel warmth upon my skin… When my eyes have turned to stone and my mem'ries are darkly receding, I'll take off my blood-red coat so that no-one will notice me leaving. And I won't wait it out forever, and I won't keep it at bay much longer because that bright light's growing stronger, and any day now I'll be stretching my wings… because any day now, it's going to be spring.
3.
HALLELUJAH There's an angel that roosts up on our roof, can you see him, cooing down his comfort on our heads at night? Above his canopied wings, I hear him singing, can you hear him, ringing out in echo cross the fire-flashed night? Our house is a womb, a warm cocoon, cradling us like jewels right at the heart of it, cupping us like holy water in a silver spoon and all the half-baked beauty and truth that's scattered round its rooms throb in perfect unison, radiate an undulating hallelujah. I can't say if our angel's going to stay up there forever, who he prays to, ruminating on our shiny rooftop; but I know some who would shoo away their feather-fettered guardian, rip the rafters, torch the table, tear the tiles off. This house is a womb, a warm cocoon, cradling us like jewels right at the heart of it, cupping us like water in a silver spoon and all the beauty and truth that's scattered round its rooms throb in perfect unison, radiate an escalating hallelujah.
4.
STORY OF MY LIFE I know you of old: you're the eye at the door of my dreaming and every failure, each tumble in time, you've observed me unblinking; every night you're there, just like the one before... Why don't you come on in, and make yourself at home? My door is open wide, and if you sit me down and run it back again, the story of my life, then I might just see where I went wrong. Black box recorder, you've got it all locked in your memory: ev'ry misguided side-swipe when I was just trying to be friendly. Press yourself against the crack, it's always been ajar. Why don't you come on in, and fix yourself a drink, I've nothing left to hide, and if you sit me down and tell me what you think, the story of my life, then I might see where I crashed and burned... How could I get it so wrong? How could I? Yeah, for so long? How could I, never knowing what was true? This time, I'm going to listen to you. You're with me again, oh that calm-centred eye of my maelstrom. You're a ribbon of stitch-sky to lift me through turbulent rainstorms; you've seen my all and still you choose to tag along… Why don't you come on in, and make yourself at home? I've nothing left to hide, and if you sit me down and run it back again, the story of my life, then I might just see where I went wrong.
5.
MOST OF IT I don't know how long we've got, so I want to make the most of it. Right here, right now's all that we've got, so I want to make the most of it. And ev'ry second, ev'ry time we meet, it's like a little rosebud or a sprouting seed; I'm trying to bank it in my memory… Yeah, I want to make the most of it. I don't have, I don't have a crystal ball, so I want to make the most of now. The facts I have are incomprehensible, so I want to make the most of now. And ev'ry second's like dynamite, it's like a diamond sparkling in the morning light so put your book down, come on, let's go outside! Come on, let's make the most of it. I don't care if I miss out on plenty, I want to know I made the most of you, because when your chair's stone cold and empty, I want to know I made the most of you. And ev'ry second's like a little pill, keeps us moving forward though we're standing still, so while we think we've got this time to kill… …come on, let's make the most of it.
6.
TWO HOUSES High on my hill, the weather is changeable. Tricky winds make forecasting mostly wrong. But I stand stock still, constant, whitewashed, amiable; these four thick walls have stood here for quite some time. Are you still awake? Can you send me a sign? Make my timbers shake, and tell the world you're mine? And high on your hill, you stand tall and well-preserved and your days are corseted and functional. I wish I could fill all your empty rooms with flowers and light a candle on each windowsill. Are you still awake? Can you give me a sign? Don't make the big mistake of thinking my light's dying, because I'm only on this hill, and I'm biding my time. I'm waiting for you still to let me know you're mine.
7.
DON'T ASK ME Are you saying I've got to sit here and watch all your lights turn cold? Pack my bag of good intentions in the boot of growing old? Are you saying my hand can't hold back this tsunami rolling in? The only power at my disposal is choose which way to swim? I'm sure I knew it on the day I was born, but time has misted up my memory! All I know is that I know nothing, so don't ask me. I've been late to learn a lesson: some things are best left unsaid, but love has polished the connection between my big mouth and my head. I'm sure I knew it on the day I was born, but time has misted up my memory! All I know is that I know nothing, so don't ask me. I've got trouble enough keeping my own nose clean! Each day's a twisting path with dangers I can't foresee. I'd better mind my own affairs, trust those I love to mind theirs; I'm going to shut my eyes and count to one-two-three... So I'll watch the wave approaching, rising deadly up the sands, and I'll smile in all the right places, and sit upon my hands. I'm sure I knew it on the day I was born, but time has misted up my memory! All I know is that I know nothing, so don't ask me.
8.
OCEAN Swim out! Not waving but drowning, I can feel you crying though they tell me you're fine. Swim out! Just keep treading water; if I could only see you, I could throw you a line. And I say oh, bobbing on this ocean, you rise and fall with every ebb and flow and I say oh, quiet in the commotion, I'll be your rock and that's all you need to know. Swim out! Out, through all my faults and all the stupid things that I have said and done. Swim out! Find a place to shelter from the grilled confessional, the gilted gun. And I say oh, bobbing on this ocean, you rise and fall with every ebb and flow and I say oh, quiet in the commotion, I'll be your rock, just hang on and don't let go! Oh, see it in slow motion, warm skies above and a firm footing down below! Oh, you can be my ocean, I'll be your rock and that's all you need to know. Swim out! Not waving but drowning, I can feel you crying though they tell me you're fine. Swim out! Just keep treading water; if I could only see you…
9.
LYNCH PIN In the morning when I wake up and remember where I've landed, I can close my eyes and visualise exactly what I'll see: sheets bundled round you, the creases criss-cross your face like a map of your dreams, just for a moment or two. And in the morning as I fumble for the radio alarm clock, to form a barricade to stop the world from flooding in our room, we reach out our feet, legs all in a tangle, the bedclothes all mangled and strewn, just for a moment or two. Let me love you always, hold your hand on the warm days, light a fire on winter evenings when it's cool. You're my lynch pin, my soulmate! What began on that first date - it took me years to realise - it was the story of our lives. And in the evening, when I'm up the stairs bathing our children (their tiny night-clothes lie in piles of pink and purple on the stairs), a hello from you, well it's enough to make them scream and shout and find they're caught unawares, just for a moment or two. And in the night-time when I'm lying right beside you and you're breathing, well it reminds me of the boy you were and what you have become, no more 'if only', no more 'if I could' but only 'look what I've done'; it's making a man out of you. Let me love you always, hold your hand on the warm days, light a fire on winter evenings when it's cool. You're my lynch pin, my soulmate! What began on that first date - it took me years to realise - it was the story of our lives.
10.
ALL IS WELL Softly your new bed sinks into the ground, and softly the raindrops come pattering down, and softly the tears roll down your son's downy cheeks as he cries for the days and the weeks and the months and the years that you'll miss. And blindly we stagger towards the church; it pains me to leave you here and love you so much. Between the yew trees, your daughter plays hide and seek, not counting the days and the weeks and the months and the years that you'll miss. Because you're only in the next room, drifting in a dream where we can't find you. You're only in the next room, all is well, and all manner of thing shall be, shall be… And silently, the snow falls on Christmas Day; she tries to be a rock but she's giving way. But faithfully you're there, though you cannot speak; you'll watch over the days and the weeks and the years, not missing a thing. Because you're only in the next room, drifting in a dream where we can't find you. You're only in the next room, all is well, and all manner of thing shall be, shall be… well.
11.
WEDDING DAY This time tomorrow, you’ll be married to your man! Something blue, something borrowed, a glass of Moet in one hand. And under the table, you hold on as your heart begins to thumb, like you’re going to jump, and in the flash of a camera your wedding day has come! It feels like yesterday that we were seventeen, posing in your soft-top like a pair of beauty queens. The plans that we made, sipping lemonade and sitting in the sun, they popped like bubbles of gum, and in the flash of a camera your wedding day has come! And nothing lasts forever; it changes for the better! So grow yourselves together, grow yourselves together, starting from now… This time tomorrow, how your dancing eyes will shine, and your taxi will be waiting when you squeeze this hand of mine. A new life awaits you, so come on now and show us how it’s done… careful, or your makeup will run… and in the puff of a candle, your wedding day is done.
12.
TAKE ME HOME Mornings wake up with nothing to shout about, no-one to make a fuss of, no-one to care about. Days wander by with no-one to share them with; even though I hardly know you, I want to give them to you. Will you take me home? I'm not the kind to give my love easily; it just comes naturally, flows from my fingers and my toes(Toast) to the bride and groom, what a lovely couple! When this big party's over, I'll wear your jacket for you. Won't you take me home? No pressure, no questions: maybe I can leave my loneliness outside. Come here and pretend that (we could learn to love each other if we tried?) (maybe if I close my eyes then I won't cry?) Morning wake up with head like a rotor-blade; you never made it here, lost you in all the crowds. Next time I won't wait, I'll say it straight out loud! Time waits for no-one proud! I'll make you shout it out, if you'll just take me home.

about

Polly Paulusma's third studio album, recorded Jan-Mar 2012.

credits

released May 28, 2012

Polly Paulusma www.pollypaulusma.com
vocals, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, piano, rhodes, organ, mellotron, mandolin, glockenspiel
Rastko Rasic
drums, additional percussion
John Parker www.thejpdoublebassblog.com
double bass

Neil Cowlan www.neilcowlan.com: additional guitar Last Week Me, Most of It
Harry Harris www.littleblueplaques.co.uk: additional mandolin Last Week Me
Adem Ilhan www.ademusic.net: additional poulet Last Week Me
Erin McKeown www.erinmckeown.com: backing vocals Lynch Pin
Piers Partridge www.pindropclub.co.uk: ukelele Most of It
Anna Phoebe www.annaphoebe.com: violin Last Week Me

Nick Ward: violin 1, string quartet
Ralph de Souza: violin 2, string quartet
Garfield Jackson: viola, string quartet
Caroline Dale: ‘cello, string quartet

Vox Cordis www.voxcordis.org.uk: choir Take Me Home

Written and composed by Polly Paulusma.
Produced by Polly Paulusma.
Mixed by Dave Moore at Cream Studios, London
Mastered by Cass Irvine at Wired Masters www.wiredmasters.co.uk

Engineered by Polly Paulusma in her shed and
Neil Cowlan at Absolute Studios www.absolute-studio.co.uk
with additional tracks recorded and emailed in from
Adem in his London home studio
Harry Harris in his London studio and
Erin McKeown in her Massachussets studio
Piers Partridge in his Bristol strawdio
Anna Phoebe in her London house
Rastko Rasic in his glorious Barnet music room

String quartet arranged and conducted by
Michael Price www.michaelpricemusic.com
and engineered by Dave Moore www.redeskimo.co.uk
at Phoenix Sound, Pinewood Studios www.phoenixsound.net

'Take Me Home' and 'Ocean' appear with kind permission from Derek Birkett and One Little Indian Records www.indian.co.uk

Photography by Rory Lindsay www.rorylindsay.co.uk

Artwork and design by Pete Manley www.madefour.co.uk

Anja in the Horse Chestnut by Rima Staines appears with kind permission from the artist. Border designs by Rima Staines. www.intothehermitage.org.uk

Thanks to all these people who have helped me in ways they may or may not understand. My beloved Mick. Vee and Coren. Rastko, Sarah and Hannah Rasic. John Parker. Michael Price. Kipper. Piers Partridge. Neil Cowlan. Harry Harris. Anna Phoebe. Adem. Erin McKeown. Charlie and Toe Grace and Vox Cordis. Dave Manington. Rima Staines. Gavin Maude. Cass Irvine. Derek Birkett. Amanda Beel. Pete Manley. Rory Lindsay. Iain Martin. Alex Mandel. Dodo and Grandaddy, Toby and Tammy Riley-Smith. Merle and George Paulusma. Elaine Dawson. Sona Pejcharova and Martina Klimova. Jay Williams. Sabrina Scolaro, Emilia and Sara. Liz Macfadyen. Amy and Jonno Brech and iSearch. Godfather Jasie, Nanny Kasia and Bump. Lorenzo and Cyc Promotions. Biagio Troiano. All my students who remind me of the poetry in living.

℗ Wild Sound Recordings 2012
© Wild Sound Recordings 2012

Cat: WLDSND001

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Wild Sound Recordings Cambridge, UK

Record label which distributes and licenses songs and instrumental tracks of acoustic folk roots artists. Founded in 2012 by Polly Paulusma after leaving One Little Independent Records, it now works with other artists. “Wild sound”, aka “wild track”, is the recording a sound engineer makes of air moving in an environment to be used in a mix. It captures the sound a place makes just by being. ... more

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