Truffles of Love

by Naevus

/
1.
04:15
2.
3.
4.
5.
02:00
6.
04:23
7.
8.
05:21
9.
10.
05:24
11.
08:17
12.
13.
05:05
14.
04:34
15.
16.

credits

released May 1, 1999

Lloyd James: voice, guitar, keyboard, flute, drum machine, other sounds.
Joanne Owen: bass, flute, other sounds.
Dan Knowler: voice (track 2), guitar (tracks 6 and 12).
Mariabob: voice (track 2), violin (track 6).
Lo Spettro Di Se Stesso: treated bass and harmonics (track 9).

Recorded and mixed by Naevus at Wooden Lung from December 1998 to September 1999. Remastered at Wooden Lung, August 2007.

Tracks 2-11 were originally released in May 1999 as the CD album Truffles Of Love. Track 1 is an out-take from the album sessions and was originally released in January 2000 on the limited edition cassette compilation Nature's Mistakes. Tracks 12-16 were originally released in October 1999 on the limited edition split CDr This Is Not Failure. Cover Painting: Lloyd James, 'Hand #1', oil on canvas, 1995.

All material (c) Naevus 1999/2008.

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license

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about

Naevus London, UK

Lloyd James: voice, acoustic guitar.
Ben McLees: bass, electric guitar.
Hunter Barr: drums, keyboards.
Sam Astley: electric guitar.

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Track Name: Eden
Slopped down from Eden
Oh, you slopped right down from Eden
Yes, you slopped down from Eden
I can see by the look in your eyes
Track Name: Bread and Cheese in the Doctor's Surgery
An obscure breakfast
My sugar dumpling
Spilled over plates
And leaving me wanting

Time woven in gentle, glancing touches
Grazing the internal organs
Wiring them up to the heat of the outside
The glory and deceit of treatments
The sheer metal surrounds
Glancing and spreading flat onto a table
Paper replacing the maggot spew

Holy as whims
Silent as the short side of a door
I ask for nothing
Except that the conduct
Be worthy of its own means

I hide like a fungal growth
In the sourest corner of your heart
Track Name: Oracle, Oracle
Oracle, let the chicken live
If he may leave his short career
If he will not interfere
Oracle, let the chicken live
If this world is a patient place
If he will owe you not for this grace
Oracle, let the chicken live

Oracle, let the chicken live
If his weight will not be too much
If his pain will not be seen as such
Oracle, let the chicken live
If this world will not resent
If there is nothing he must represent
Oracle, let the chicken live

Oracle, let the chicken live
If this world is worth more than he
If to kill him leaves him to me
Oracle, let the chicken live
Track Name: The Mouth Song
God bless morbid loathing of the human mouth
Confess disease and feel a satisfaction of your own
The bright and airy honesty of wholesomeness
Has nothing for the back teeth to fasten into

The action is removed to the front of the mouth
And what is left but introverted rubbings?
The motion of gyrating molars further mocked
By empty, cutting canines

A piece of peanut
Hot coffee on the gums
The guilt of the body for its own blind needs

Canines do not care for their satisfaction
And cannot understand the cravings of those buried ones
Like hard mushrooms reared in the dank earth of the mouth
They feed only blindly

A piece of peanut
Hot coffee on the gums
The guilt of the body for its own blind needs
Track Name: Yonder
Can you see me on your lawn?
I am lying on the whore
Can you feel which way to go?
I can’t see you, can you see me?

I’m lying in the garden
I hope and pray
For this final day
And when you’re on your own
I hope to say
I cannot find the way

Can you see me? Can you feel?
I can’t tell you what’s yet to be
On some Wednesday I’ll find you
You can tell me what to do

I can’t tell you when
I’ll find you in the walls
I’ll hone your jewels on the window
And can you see the way
I lie and hope and pray?
I answer all your calls, too

Can you tell me? I can't hide
Do you see what has to die?
Aubrey wanted Dresden heart
Legs of tungsten will not start
Track Name: Parade
Some shoddy past parade
Where promises were made
To cleave unto the daylight
And to freshness and to space
But now the truth therein
Is falling from the window
Rolling down the rooftop
To the gutter, to its place

For such a potent curse
To all at once disperse
Is something to remark upon
Travestial debris
I see you’re lost for words
Let’s leave this to the birds
This thinning square of fabric
Seems to illustrate our needs

And now you must demur
Take your place in the circle
Pity through absorption
Of the qualities we see
The pattern holds you fast
You have your chance at last
To live and yes, I know now
Your subsumption brings release
Track Name: Compliments Slip
An apparition at the bus stop
Chased by unreal appeals
To vanity, not flattery
But pure, corrupted vanity

If there is no second
Then there will always be a third
Unreal spectre, so freshly cold
After wishes and pleas

Compliments slip too easy
From the lazy tongue of love
And they choke in the throat
Of everything higher or lower

What’s the use in a costume?
Well, it gives you a hat to doff
If nothing else
Track Name: Beggar
You are a modern man
You are a man of today
But you belong to all the beasts of yesterday
Drumming out emotion
With reference to thickness
To the ability to slide beneath these
Hot radio
Just slid there
Send a calendar to you father
Send a picture to your mother
Neither need ever know
That the one contains the other
A pathetic stew
A feeble home-brew
Heating meat from the bone
Gives you something to do
Chrome shysters
Apple-bobbing burgomeisters
The chemical composition of which
Is new
Moth or mosquito
Take me to Geppetto
Teach him of the errors
Of his son’s embarrassing measures
A mythical figure
A comical snigger
Drawling out
Drawling out
Drawling it out
To be spelled
To be counted
To be taught the sweetness of decay
Born in the shallow heat of the human mind
Teach the poor, ailing father a few lessons in magnitude
Oh, the poor fellow
The simple distinction is beyond him
A simple tool enabling you to bang your head against a wall
A simple tribute to death, performed by the deed itself
A sure-fire way to argue with no-one
A remedy for decay
A rack for self-display
I’m not trying to defend it
I’m just trying to remember
No valleys
No sheep
Just a motorway
That charges straight through
And dumps you in the Irish Sea
Then hooks you back out
Under the same moon
Half a different side
A handful of stars thrown around somewhere up there
Bowels are reaching for something
There’s an overstimulation
As if to make up for threatless absence
Skimming lines of cloud
Skirting rudely around
A face of platitude
A low line
A dim array
A bright transport so far it’s as dull as my own
I throw another stump
Bounding from barriers
An acute desire for crudeness with a story
Defeating every kind of fire
It’s true that this side of the far line has served me better
Serves me better now
Not as well as before
Those few years eloped somewhere
And though I’ve been away
It was me that got left behind somewhere
I’m disabled by the unnature that persists
In hammy, small, recent constructs
By the labour that failed
Not without some projection
Or hope
A shimmer through high bushes
The point of the arc of a house
Adding me down
Again
To a buried sum this time
I’m waiting under your soil
Through it I see the silver fringe of coniferous trees
Still afraid to specify
But getting there
I’m not the only studied one
Crippled aloud, I see your friend is not mad
Just alone
Alive
Suffering a shell
Like every other
Track Name: The Lonely Remedial
Bound to the straining testes
He is rendered irresolute
The upper body
Spacious and needy
A turret of ferocious force
Learns itself as separate
From the less vigorous limbs

While its location, never free
Arcs through its limited route
Near below the balls, the balls
That nearly bind him near to that turret
That learns itself as separate
From the less vigorous limbs

The balls, the balls, he’s bound to them
Belongs to their space beneath the upper
Caught on the long surrounds
That hang in use
Flinch at a pinch
Gangle in halves
Drawing their keen and steady direction
From the power
That is the face
To the double pendulum
Track Name: Blenheim
A cliff-top romance summoning up every well-used recourse. This is the palace, this is the park, this is the way, this is the way. Shake off sheepish fetters to return to the fine country house. Pay or display. I’ll take your choice.

There is a human body face-down in the roses
There is a crime beneath every fence
Drive me in your car, drive me in your car
Sink or sing the swan song, sink or sing the swan song
Survey the fine estate, survey the fine estate
It must be here somewhere, it must be here somewhere

So few people for so many rooms. Are you sure that this is the way it was supposed to be? There must be a draught. The invasion of art nouveau has left us wanting. A touch of class. Oh, Commissioner, you are spoiling us.

There is a human body face-down in the roses
There is a crime beneath every fence
Drive me in your car, drive me in your car
Sink or sing the swan song, sink or sing the swan song
Survey the fine estate, survey the fine estate
It must be here somewhere, it must be here somewhere

Can you hear it? Rain is sinking through soil. Feel the brightness seeping or sapping. Proximity to anything is an interesting phenomenon, every time.

There is a human body face-down in the roses
There is a crime beneath every fence
Survey the fine estate, survey the fine estate
It must be here somewhere

Sometimes there is something. Doubt has the least innocuous power.

Survey the fine estate, survey the fine estate
It must be here somewhere

There will be an investigation and we all dread it.

Survey the fine estate, survey the fine estate
It must be here somewhere

Without the grounds: intruder. This is not a story.

Survey the fine estate, survey the fine estate
It must be here somewhere

A final heading: misdeeds. Clench.
Track Name: Rags
Musty red mock velvet
A platform for the dirty blue
For the rag of dank absorption
For the wafer-thin mattress that cushions
A bitten fleece of weak reward
To smother little deaths
And other spillage, seepage, discharge
From the world

These are the remnants that recreate
The place that we bring with us
The refuge that pursues us
And waits for information
A platform, a stage, even
For the re-enactment
The preservation
The perpetuation
Of the static myth
Of the self

A curtain to draw across the deeds
That no-one really pries for
A blind to wind around the signs
That no-one thinks to try for
A spirit too mean to care to be seen
A soul disowned by physical entity
Dirty and practical
That is the way it is supposed to be


These are the remnants that recreate
The place that we bring with us
The refuge that pursues us
And waits for information
A platform, a stage, even
For the re-enactment
The preservation
The perpetuation
Of the static myth
Of the self
Track Name: The Steep Face
Is this too far removed from nature?
Is nature far removed from what is really there?
I fold a crease across your landscape
Now it cannot be rolled

You derive your distance from an ancient trick
Quickly described
Like a thin, limp bough, soft behind the rain
And far out past cement-flecked glass

Like ripped vision
Excitement of the mind setting the heart aquiver
Almost making the body flake
I speak to myself and the flora creeps in

But later, it’s fought for, smothered indoors
Muffled again by cloth and underpinned by mould
And cracked like the paint that trims it
Artificial stinking snowflake uncomfortably rucked

To clear or to clog?
The sharp but distant tang of wet brambles
Eating into your presence with soft, black teeth
What did you hope to learn? Modernity?
Track Name: Wrong
Well, I knew that there would come a point
Where I’d see myself as something more
And what did I expect to find
But bitterness within?
And for you it was just distraction
You taught yourself another rule
To govern vicious impulse
And to lead yourself away
And I know I’m no kind of leader
I’m more the kind that just falls short
Through laziness or sheer remorse
Through a burning lack of desire
I invert this into everything
Brought to bear and only able
To acknowledge what I fail to see
I fail to see at all
So I am wrong


So you reside now in intervention
I try to reach through the layers of
My own self reverence, to come to some
New point of revelation
That doesn’t just pass, forgotten
With the host of tawdry, daily miracles
That afflict me still
Afflict me still the same
And for you it was just distraction
An unreminder rinsing off
The silly whims of every other day
That passed unreformed
A gloss for my intuition
Because you know that there is really
Nothing they can tell you
There is nothing there at all
So I am wrong
Track Name: The Mill
Pinched in at the middle
Her small frame smiled out
But lost in suspicion
I failed to grasp it
Her word was an umbrella
It had me on its point
Her stroke was euthanasia
It swept me up in its charity
My helpers came
I didn't recognise them
They gathered about me
I shrugged them all off

Your sides are splitting
As you fall to the floor
I summarise my hatreds
And leave
I cloud over
And feel with the edges of my hands
The beige kernel
The man-made husk
Chafing all around me
It funnels me out
And sorely I’m let
Reeling

As I spit through the mists
I know that you fall away
You’re watching me punish
My body for its own issue
I want you to look
At my back as I walk
I want you to know
The crook of my knees
I don’t want to turn
I don’t want to face you
Because I know if I turn
Then I will turn on you

And this was a haven
And this was a lie
The hangings were yellow
And small in my life
And I don’t like to think this
And I don’t want to say
And I’ll wrap it in something
And I’ll send it away
And it will be received
By a poor, distant fool
Who will wrap it all up
With weak, weak lies
Track Name: Hit the Squeeze-Box
Hit the squeeze-box
Some malady
Comes trailing down the staircase
Seep through shoes
The costume is hot
But it almost fits
Studded green
Leather chair
Fails to enfold
Elephantine
Alas, a lack
Is all I have
To bargain, to brain you
You are dismissed
Touch it in dreams
It may yet seek you out
Oh, believe me
I’ve sinned against you all
Every last one
Of you

Slipped in heat
Passed upon disgust
Driven to arms
In flecks of mischief
In specks of solid doubt
Hard and fast
Cast me from the sheets
Lobes of meat
Of lost deceit
Truffles of heartache
To be savoured on occasion
Staked out
Doffed in splendid boredom
Leaked from the body
In desire
Worse or better
Can scarce occur at all
Between them
They’ve seen it all
But can they speak?
No, they choke
And cough days away
In depreciation
Track Name: Mother, I'm Texture
You saw my flight in the hallway
I saw your face on the stairs
I tried to be your son
I tried to be wholesome
But nature has never been fair

I was the man whom the trees loved
Digging through dust for a book
But now I’ve been caught for
Rappacini’s daughter
She’s wiping the bait from the hook

Mother, I’m texture
I’m righting men wrecks her
Mother, I’m born many brood
Mother, I’m yawning
I slide on your morning
I chide and deride me your food

I know that you won’t understand this
But listen, I’ll try to explain
With poor imitations
And weak demonstrations
Why my friends all smell the same

The turkey-neck reeks in your kitchen
Your children are bound to complain
They sing in the toilet
While you stand and boil it
It’s aural, it’s nasal, it’s pain

Mother, I’m texture
I’m righting men wrecks her
Mother, I’m born many brood
Mother, I’m yawning
I slide on your morning
I chide and deride me your food

Now that I’ve spent all my sources
The drooling, the moth-like are gone
I’ll find a new place
For Lowly Worm shoelace
If that is what pushes me on

Mother, I’m texture
I’m righting men wrecks her
Mother, I’m born many brood
Mother, I’m yawning
I slide on your morning
I chide and deride me your food