Come now, the day has ended and given us back to ourselves
so pour me a glass of blackberry wine.
Speak to me of every annoyance, every triumph,
every hour stolen by chores of pressing insignificance,
lists longer than the paper they were written on
and secondary infections of administration.
For now we are retrospective surgeons,
for now we’re calling for more.
Next thing you know here’s the pink glow of three glasses cradled
and it’s shoes off and feet up, resting on tables.
We are sofa-ridden figures, reclining and proclaiming,
dissecting and explaining every finding of the day.
And I am ranting about chasing coyotes
along the riverbanks and the infinite freeways
and you’re announcing the names
at the Idiot’s Olympic Games.
For now we are emperors of the living room,
for now we’re calling for more.
Five down and the time to think before you speak grows.
You’re extracting drunken philosophy from the mundane cacophony
and I begin to run the risk of becoming a little fatalistic.
For now we are slurring academics.
Just one last glass and I can’t,
I can’t appear to see straight anymore.
For now we are conquered, staggering retreaters.
For now, we’re calling for bed
Four indie-pop reflections on growth and loss from the Australian singer-songwriter, sustained by robust pianos and fervent vocals. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 29, 2024
More folk-inflected confessionals on love, loss, and anxiety — plus a Kacey Musgraves cameo —from the Nashville indie pop auteur. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 11, 2024