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The Hinterhaus

by Gillian Grassie

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1.
Marrow 04:23
MARROW How can a body prove its worth? what if I gave the wind a curl? hoping some industrious bird might weave it into something warm and good ‘Cause there’s nothing hard at all about the center of a bone it’s sweet to suck the soft marrow keep on working at me ‘till I’m all hollow and lighter than a dove-tailed swallow Oh to be made to rise above and build nests out of straw and mud singing out the sweetest songs to make the night not seem so long and dark CHORUS But I was made to stand upright on earth that’s cracked like elbow skin and worry about frost at night and feel the weight I’m carrying
2.
THE CANONIZATION OF MARGOT PRICE That night I climbed the stairs as though I were making a pilgrimage as though when I had reached the top I might become illuminated and wise but I saw her there crouched at the kitchen table lost to the world in the ritual consumption of spoon to bowl to maw bone rubbing bone noisily and milk dribbling off her jaw until the box was gone I saw, I saw I saw her there through the bathroom door purging herself of the shame that rotted in her gut until she was no more than a relic I thought of the woman who’d been made a saint for lying on a plank in her basement until she had starved to death and of the one who cut off her breasts I thought of lighting votives on her clavicle like the ones burning in the catacombs of Paris and praying for her resurrection saying, “Come back to me, oh please, come back to me.”
3.
4.
THE HINTERHAUS There is a house behind your house a floor beneath the floorboards with planks of spruce sanded smooth and cut to fit the corners and no one would have noticed no one could have guessed that every time they’d come around they’d been your courtyard guests when was it that you forgot? who you were and were not how to feel as you looked out at all man’s suffering and pain, so exquisite, so mundane saw the trigger of a gun curled like a question mark I know what it is to be half transformed still burdened with the evidence of what you were before but all of this forgetting – tell me how it’s done tell me where you keep the memory of somebody you’ve loved there is a house behind this house curtains upon curtains oh but you can come anytime you like my door is always open
5.
BACK TO YOUR FLAT Your scent is still on my dress and my hairs are on your sweater the ink is still wet on how this will be remembered I never knew, no, I never knew and I never could have guessed that when we laughed our way back to your flat I might never come back the same oh and we laughed our way back to your flat I may never come back the same we’re propped up on our elbows belly-down upon your bed the dictionary is opened to the word earnest yeah, your English it was pretty good but you didn’t understand CHORUS Oh and I hope that Serendipity, the traveler’s patron saint, is smiling sweetly on you now as you bike home in the rain CHORUS
6.
The Mark 02:52
THE MARK There was a moment where I had really lost my style I’d keep flashing my teeth at people and calling it a smile I thought I’d fooled everyone but you took me aside said be kind, oh be kind, oh be kind, won’t you be kind oh be kind, oh be kind, oh be kind, won’t you be kind so we went buzzing around like two drunken honeybees mix-tapes and double takes and letters overseas you say the corniest things, I can’t even believe but it’s sweet, yeah it’s sweet, yeah it’s sweet, oh you’re so sweet yeah it’s sweet, oh it’s sweet, oh it’s sweet, oh you’re so sweet time stretches like taffy melts quicker than salt I just want to be happy for however long we’ve got You took a felt-tip pen, drew a circle ’round my heart I said, “so what’s this then, some kind of modern art?” you said, “no, it’s just so I can better learn my mark if I fall, if I fall, if I fall, oh if I fall,” if you fall, if you fall, if you fall, oh, I will follow
7.
Dust & Wax 03:51
DUST AND WAX Oh we had a spark so brilliant my love and I and we wrote a pact and sealed it vowed to keep it bright So we found ourselves a lantern and thought we were safe not seeing where the light was bending not seeing how the warmth escaped But while we were packing I found soft, hand-rolled candles buried in a drawer and I cried to see the pair like that – dust clinging to the wax I think everyone’s smoking now just to prove they can breathe see this cloud above my head? well, that air was in me CHORUS So scortch me, Love, but do it quick Pass our fingers near the wick Pour a pool onto the paper and press our thumbs into it
8.
I know a place down in Chelsea where my friend works as the hotel barkeep and he'll fix me a drink if I sit down to think and the thoughts that I think get too heavy Take two parts of your favorite bourbon and one part of tremontis mirto those brandy soaked cherries bring out the myrtle berry and a dash of those old orange bitters Oh silk and satin oh sweet manhattan and summer so far away you're looking blue, bird go find a new bird to keep the winter at bay Je prefere les romans je veux habiter dedans parcequ'ils ont plus de sense que toute mes vrais romances J'ai cherché entre tous les mots ceux muets and ceux très forts mais si tu demandes une reponse je peux seulement dire, "Euh, bon, ça depends..." Alors quelle genre cette histoire? Je ne comprends jamais les fins Si je commencais à rire oh est-il vraiment une comedie ou quoi? Je sais pas et donc je boire Oh silk and satin oh sweet manhattan and summer so far away so clink your glasses toss down the hatches a warmth that is here to stay ----- [French Translation] I prefer novels I’d like to live inside of them because they make more sense than my real-life romances I searched between all the words those that were silent and those that were very loud but if you ask me for a response I can only say, “um, well, that depends…” So what genre is this story? I never understand the endings If I start to laugh is it really a comedy or what? I don’t know, and so I drink
9.
BORROWED OR BEGGED Oh I’ve got these blackened traveler’s feet and I’ve got this broken train-stop sleep I got miles unfurled in front of me before I reach my own country I can’t count the places I laid my head seems most of them were borrowed or begged and it may have cost half of all I own but I know the difference between a house and a home I dreamed that I was fast asleep with a pup on either side of me and a grey cat stretched out at my feet in a lover’s bed in North Philly CHORUS So I’m riding in this foreign car sucking fruit I don’t know the name of and this I would give you my love: something sweet and strange upon your tongue CHORUS
10.
Summer 03:21
SUMMER I saw a man singing here on the street he had holes in his shoes you could see his bare feet he wore a smile on his face there was pep in his step I thought man, what’s he know that I don’t get yet? You know I feel such a misfit when I look at the sky ‘cause I’m so down and lowly and it’s so divine you don’t have to be crazy to feel you’ve lost your mind you don’t have to be happy to be doing just fine Take a ride, windows down sharing songs with the town they all mix with the sound of cicadas coming back from the beach we got sand in the seats and some salt water taffy for later when we return with our memories and our songs
11.
August 06:05
AUGUST You sleep like a child so trusting and deep while I lean back into a late night symphony my felt tip scratching in the dark with the noises of mice in the kitchen drawers I can hear them from all the way down the hall but I don’t mean them any harm Oh, and it occurs to me there are several sorts of peace yours are wrapped up in your dreams and mine is solitary lying next to you in the soft space of this room I’ll whisper a tune of yellows, pinks, and blues of climbing the hills with oil pastels and a box full of old newspapers with people I love and the moon coming up our hunger fully sated CHORUS see, even the power lines cannot mar or hide the beauty of the skyline in this brilliant, fading light and there in the gloaming the cattle are lowing the grasses are blowing gently bowing their heads with reverence for the majesty of the heavens CHORUS

about

This is Gillian's crowdfunded sophomore album – conceived in Berlin, recorded in California, and independently released in Philadelphia in the dead of Winter 2013.

credits

released January 29, 2013

all songs written by Gillian Grassie
Gillian Grassie - vocals & harp
Todd Sickafoose - bass, vibraphone, marimba
Ben Goldberg - clarinet
Rob Reich - accordion
Allison Miller - drums
Dina Maccabee - viola
featuring special guest Janis Ian (vocals and keys on 'Dust & Wax')

produced, mixed, and recorded by Todd Sickafoose at Earycanal, Oakland, CA
Janis Ian recorded by Brandon Bell at Minutia Sound in Nashville, TN
Allison Miller recorded by Ken Rich at Grand Street Recording in New York, NY

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about

Gillian Grassie Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Gillian Grassie is an American singer-songwriter and harpist who splits her time between Philadelphia and Berlin.

"It’s rare to hear a young singer with such control and understated soulfulness, and even more rare to hear a harp provide such a deep percussive groove. I was immediately captivated by her sound.” - Grammy-winner Marc Cohn
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