Name: Lost Letters
Duration: 5 min 27 s
Channel: Berman Cochrane
Description: "Lost Letters" is a song by Pygmy Beat. Folky? Recycling riffs I know; but here's another sad one. This time it's by Terry & Ray with a little help from Miriam.

Lost Letters

Pygmy Beat

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Folky? Recycling riffs I know; but here's another sad one. This time it's by Terry & Ray with a little help from Miriam.

prog flute cello psychedelic banjo political mandolin sax rock folk pygmy beat

Pygmy Beat

Folk rock meets blues rock whilst occassionally veering into psychedelic and prog rock.

Pygmy Beat: Terry Berman - vocals, sax, piano, flute, recorder & Catholic guilt; ray cochrane - basses, guitars, bad cello, percussion & Protestant longing; Roland - drums, percussion & digital watches; RAMI - occasional drums; Gerry Steele - frequent lead guitar solos; Greg Loyacano - frequent recent drums Pygmy Beat Augmented: Joe Mizzi - recent vocals Gerry Steele - lead guitar solos; Greg Loyacano - drums ray cochrane - basses, guitars, bad cello, percussion; Pygmy Beat Extended: Patricia Vogelenzang - vocals Erik - Drums & Percussion; Greg Loyacano - Drums & some guitars; Gerry Steele - most lead guitar solos; ray cochrane - basses, guitars, bad cello, percussion; Rob Green - vocals & lead - Listen Like Brian; Trudy Newell - vocals; Casey Wells - vocals. Miriam & I: Miriam Webb - vocals, arrangements & good cello. ray cochrane - bass, guitar, bad cello, percussion & arrangements. Roland - hand punched programmed drums. The Newlings: Eric Drabwell - vocals, guitars ray cochrane - bass, guitars, cello Bandi - drums

Song Info

Genre

Rock • Folk Rock

Charts

Peak #170

Peak in subgenre #10

Author

Berman Cochrane

Rights

Berman Cochrane

Uploaded

July 11, 2007

Track Files

MP3

MP3 5.0 MB • 128 kbps • 5:27

Story behind the song

Mix #41 I think, honestly, Faderbug resurrected the vocal track which had been infected by a mystery high pitch that my tinnitus masked.
There are still some synch problems with the recorder track but things are much closer this time around.

Lyrics

Bleary windows
 make it so hard for the sun
 to brighten the rooms  
There’s a jumble of boxes,
 some cases of books
 and a player without any tunes  
An old wardrobe
 Its users long gone
 alone in the corner still stands  
One door broken,
 hanging askew,
 a drawer full of gloves without hands  

CHORUS 1
There’s a little tin box
 under the gloves
 that I find and set on the floor  
 I pick at the lock
Feel my curiosity rise
At what may still lie in store  
Envelopes so brittle,
pages so fragile, 
as I take them into my hands

HALF VERSE 2
Do I look at the past, 
inside stranger’s lives, 
Or leave them, 
as manners demand? 
I gently unfold 
a crumbling past
and rifle through passions not mine.

BRIDGE?
 I feel her fingers
Caress the perfumed paper
Hear her breath in the phrases
 as she whispers her love
Then I chill as her hard words
 drive a wedge between
Taste the pain
 as she says that they’ll meet no more
I stare at the past
At those faded affections
Look at the past
On each crumpled page
And I don’t understand
No I don’t understand
No I’ll never, not ever, understand.

INSTRUMENTAL?

LAST VERSE
The bleary windows
 make it so hard,
 for the sun to brighten the room
As I put back the box
 with its bitter sweet scent of a love
 that only so briefly had bloomed
Walk down the stairs
 on into the yard,
try to shake the dust from my soul
Summer’s day holds me fast
Tells me time’s healed the past 
But why is it I feel so cold?
Why do I feel so cold?