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Brigantine 06:49
Brigantine "This I will say though you mustn't repeat to ears unripe to receive Paradise is under the sea Angels are ships, they have no wings but large sails they unfold noiselessly Every night they cross eternity" Angels call on night Angels hoist their sails Angels call on wind to stir up sand and make great waves Oh, the ocean won't hide nor will it be silenced by deaf ear, nor by blind eye you hid your pearls in an oyster shell well be warned angels won't guard them for long Angels will steal them all Angels call on night Angels hoist their sails Angels call on wind to stir up sand and make great waves © Laura Hyland 2002
Gemstone 03:51
Gemstone Hear this - The humble heart will bear a noble gift a love unbounded expanding ever inwards ever outwards establishing a sacred trust How vulnerable how strong the eyes that are wide open that invite another to look inward and explore What greater honour than to hold another's hand with conviction and yet cherishing a separateness through which each bestows upon the other a gemstone © Laura Hyland 2005
Lady Grey's Allotment Mother, mother, mother, you are past it and this dirty whore, your daughter flings your mantle to the floor and dances wilder than a harlot Lady Grey, we made you, oh now nurse us in the darkness, may we suckle at your cold breast, may we kiss you and caress you, may we huddle on your doorstep Movers and shakers, on-the-makers, wheeler-dealers, rock n' rollers reeling to the rumble of a hundred hollow pipers. Snipers, sate our appetites with pixel or with pencil, tricksters, troubadours and thinkers, mystify me with your musings Lady, look upon your many minions pin their high hopes to a pittance Oh now none dare to admit it but the asking price is precious Lady labyrinthine and lithe, lead us to the pyre, lay us down supine Every ugly alley offers up another lover, every trussed up trend inspires and then withers like a flower. All our hours linger listless and protracted, ripe and bloated with distractions, fat and full with contradictions Slipping softly, softly slipping through our fingers Tick tock tick tock tick tock goes the clock. Quick, quick, quack, quack, Oh how those gods they mock us with this weather, weilding sun and surly tempest. All and sundry run for cover in the bunkers and the bedsits Lady won't you save us from an unsavoury ending but the Lady wouldn't listen so we feigned to fight against her with our foul and filthy lucre and the puca in our pockets and the banshee at the bedstead and a demon in the closet and we're calling 'Mother, may we please appease our concience with these lovely Autumn apples; we have grown them in the good earth of our Lady Grey's allotment.' © Laura Hyland 2007
On The Promise of A Blue Sky I may have been sleeping I dreamt that I was dreaming I don't know which way the wind was blowing; My mind was drifting in and out of time. Maybe I'm home again, here again there again and we're back again where we belong back to where it all began Meanwhile you' re gone in search of sunshine, magic and starlight and the full moon! And I'm chasing a daydream, stalking inspiration on forgotten pavement benches where the old folk meet and the tomcats screech. In the shadow of street lamps this world is throwing shapes around us; I'm hanging on the promise of a blue sky We'll be home soon We were under the ocean hand in hand dancing in silken sea We were hunting adventure, travelling through time, hanging on the promise of a blue sky © Laura Hyland 1998
A Ritual To Read To Each Other If you don't know the kind of person I am And I dont know the kind of person you are A pattern may prevail in the world And following the wrong god home we may miss our star For there is many a small betrayal in the mind A shrug that lets the fragile sequence break sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood storming out to play trhough the broken dike And as elephants parage holding each elephants' tail But if one wanders the circus won't find the park I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty To know what occurs but not recognise the fact And so, I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy, - a remote, important region in all who talk. Though we could fool each other we should consider. Lest the parade of our mutual life gets lost in the dark For it is important that awake people be awake Or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep The signals we give – yes, no or maybe – should be clear; the darkness around us is deep William Stafford
A Death And A Vision "Nora I'm on the way out" She said, over the phone from the bay window overlooking the graveyard And then? well then she was gone seventy eight with a grandmother's grace at eight in the morning And in the soapy softness of her aged and ancient hands I felt a warmth unmistakably hers and in it every mother's kiss every soft caress Sitting by the cistern smoking cigarettes © Laura Hyland 2007
Grain Of Sand No. I will not die for love I lack the dicipline To face the waves and drown in them My nature is to spin Around and around like a grain of sand whenever a tide flows in Anonymous 8th Century Japan
Bric-a-brac 06:24
Bric-a-Brac Little things that no one needs Little things to joke about Little landscapes, done in beads Little morals, woven out Little wreaths of gilded grass Little brigs of whittled oak Bottled painfully in glass These are made by lonely folk Lonely folk have lines of days Long and faltering and thin Therefore little wax bouquets Prayers cut upon a pin Little maps of pinkish lands Little charts of curly seas Little plats of linen strands Little verses, such as these Dorothy Parker
The Hushed Bud The day has come And all remains 'tight in the bud' waiting for rain waiting for sun waiting to blossom... Gorgeously concealed wrapped in finest red delicately curved pursed and poised within the safest of cradles the warmest of wombs the shyest of passions is coming undone But all the Earth insists - drives an ancient, urgent kiss from the pit of the root to the quivering tip - wakes the sleeping core - the aching bloom unfurls © Laura Hyland 2002
Shipwrecks 05:27
Shipwrecks Oh to feel the freezing Sea All around me Send me your greatest wave May she flood the whole wide world in her mouth Drag me down in briney foam I am done with dry land I would gladly give up these lungs for gills to stay with you Oh that this raging Sea this slathering beast would ravage me Hurl this form on every rock cast me to the icy depths to join the shipwrecks © Laura Hyland 2005


Independently released in September 2009. Re-released by Forwind Records in 2010. | www.forwind.net
Artwork by Laura Hyland & Riccardo Arena | www.riccardoarena.org


released March 9, 2010

Written and produced by Laura Hyland | www.laurahyland.com
L Hyland - voice, guitar
James O Sullivan - electric guitar | www.jamesosullivan.co.uk
Peter Marsh - double bass | www.marshmusic.org
Matthew Fisher - Drums
Mixed by Conor Curran & Laura Hyland
Recorded by Ollie Keen at Trinity College London
Mastered by Graham Seymark at Cyclone Music UK


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Clang Sayne Ireland

Described as ‘venturers in the post-genre slip stream, weaving folk, improv, art pop and contemporary classical into new material that is soft on the ear but tough as leather.’ (Cormac Larkin, Irish Times).

Laura Hyland (compositions, voice), Carolyn Goodwin (woodwinds, voice), Matthew Jacobson (drums, voice)
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