Demos - October 2013

by Alex Rake and the Leaves

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about

Two rough recordings materialized to figure out our equipment and to prove to venues that we make music and junk. No percussion. Oh well!

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released October 27, 2013

Alex Rake - Vocals, Mandolin, Ukelele
Jonathan E. Quaker - Alto Saxophone
Isaac Harvey - Bass Guitar

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about

Alex Rake and the Leaves Mission, British Columbia

Alex Rake is a singer/songwriter/low life from Mission, BC, and the Leaves are his friends. They are recipients of a Mission Muse Award for emerging artist.

Together, they make folk music with jazz ethics and punk aesthetics. In less fancy words, they yell and improvise all over troubadour songs.
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Track Name: Some Boys [Demo]
Some boys are slimy things
on the shore all downing drinks.
Some boys fix drainpipes,
some vomit down the sinks;
some boys swear they're different
and care what no one thinks.
They cast their curse across the sea,
and on our girl a jinx

Some girls are easy things,
so young, naive, and hot.
Some girls get poisoned,
some girls get shot;
others are that lucky few
who crawl right out of the pot
which holds the gold, and men of old,
and all those things that rot.

You play her like this piccolo,
pressed up against my lips
to call to her across the hills
(all over which she trips)--
all while some slim succubus
you once knew from your blood sips;
all while in her like a rusty knife,
your ugly body slips.

Now I can't reach to touch her.
Her face won't twitch to smile.
Anything else you were hoping you
might damage or defile?
Does it bring you satisfaction,
us choking in a pile?
It ain't hard to tell: you're going to hell.
I'll catch you there in a while.
Track Name: Mushroom Cloud [Demo]
So you are that cool giant robot
who stomps through our city
so aimless all day,
wrecking the world on your way,
wishing someone'd just ask you to play!

There're deep rusty holes now, all over
your body; you walked through
the wrong factory,
climbed up the one burning tree,
and fell down the black coral sea!

You fire your warhead right up
in the air, the mushroom cloud
pretty and bright
(like sunshine all through the night),
and you're finally feeling alright--

But life's like a rocket that flies
through your ear, firing
out the opposite side,
destroying your white, crying bride;
and you can't even say that you tried.