The Sweetness Lies Within
There's just a sea between us,
I know this hope will find us.
This serenade reminds us,
Be calm, be strong, be patient.
White skin and auburn hair that,
Just makes me stare and stare and,
You're a friend that really cares and,
You have a healing quality that I see.
But the sweetness lies within you,
And I swear I won't forget you.
When you're tying back your hair,
You have the prettiest of necks.
All the angels broke my heart,
Yes they really had a knack,
Because I loved life so,
And they didn't love me back.
But I swear it's not your beauty,
It's something inside,
It's the grace that you hide,
It's the sweetness that's within.
Beware of spiteful eyes because,
They know not what they do.
Wear clothes that look good on you,
And boys will flock from all of Europe.
Treasure time that was spent with me and,
I will wait for eternity and,
I belong between the angels knees and,
Those filthy little angels never want to sleep with me again.
The Sad Witch
You wouldn't believe in my new belle she flits and weaves a curious spell,
And under my skin there's a place where she resides.
Finding a release in prayers and psalms I will obey her articulate commands,
She is just a coquette and how I wish I could forget.
Breathing new life in to the sad witch and she promised me three wishes and all I wish is she should remain here.
A poisonous saint with a brittle, crippled frame and she fooled me with her motherly gestures, my only guess is she's misguided.
The sins, the sins the heavenly limbs that greet below the red, red lights,
Hold no sway with me now she's my intended.
The jewels around her neck retain a curious sheen, god is in my heart and tearing at the seams,
Her atheist tracts are certainly persuading.
(and I don't know, and I don't want to know, if she floats or drowns, if she floats or drowns.)
A Hymn for the Postal Service
Sobriety breeds sincerity, and Lydia Pond she is my gravity.
I don't know how she felt when she took that E,
But in the morning she shaking, she was twitching, she was jerking.
On June the 5th she moved to Paris, she could not stand the state of British politics,
And I just can't convince her that I'm socialist,
And every night I pray for mail in the morning.
Sweet Lydia Pond is doing it for me,
And I want to sing a hymn for the postal service.
Sinful and proud since I stopped sleeping around,
I am so faithful now to Lydia's handwriting,
That makes me guess the circumstances under which she wrote it,
Why she used the f-word when she never, ever spoke it,
She pasted on a passport photo of herself in pigtails,
And underneath she'd written did my touch make you less lonely.
Oh she promised me that we'd be creasing sheets,
And that our bodies would be bruising, wrestling underneath,
And I wanted to ask her how she cut her teeth,
And why she let time slip through her skinny, skinny fingers.
Love will destroy us in the end
It's the children that I feel for,
Yes the children make me feel more,
More than the liquor, more than the art,
More than the Beach Boys records.
It's the drink that gives us heartache,
It's the charity we won't take,
We feel so empty and our late twenties should be better times.
It's the love and the truth and the hope and the faith,
That will destroy us in the end.
It's the look in the eyes of those one-night stands that gives us the will to pretend.
It's the feeling of fucking the people that we're loving that spurs us onto endless sleepless nights,
And love will destroy us in the end.
There's not a thing that I can save from all those wasted, wasted days,
And there's no faith that will ever save me from being faithful,
And the damn phone never rings,
And I would give up everything,
For a little wine, some conversation
And just for being healthy.
The Librarian
He started to woo her in a most peculiar way,
The Librarian's dress was a fawnish shade of grey,
The books he was to borrow he would surely never read,
They were of an intellectual calibre, he hoped that she would see.
He planned to take her home to bed some day,
He'd smooth her goose bumped skin whilst she lay,
But the unspoken truth they both knew,
Whilst he'd dream of her often she would forget in just ten minutes.
Her beauty has not truly been seen till her beauty's been seen by his tired eyes,
Her tears have not truly been dried till her tears have been dried on his tattered shirt sleeves.
Her body has not truly been stripped till her clothes have been ripped by his nail bitten fingers,
Her beauty has not truly been seen till her beauty's been seen by his tired eyes.
He was beginning to irritate so she made him go away,
The smallest cruellest insults she ignored his subtle ways.
The deftly silence let him know his efforts were in vain,
Did the thoughts ever exist and if so could he find them.
(and oh, oh the loneliest of nights, he will never hold her tight, he will never kiss her eyelids.)
God is On My Side
Make yourself pretty for your boyfriend, Cause his your boyfriend,
Your gorgeous boyfriend.
Hitch up your skirt for your boyfriend, Cause his your boyfriend and no-one else's,
No-ones got the tongue of my sweet girlfriend that moves so swiftly inside my mouth,
And no-ones got the legs of my sweet girlfriend that wrap around me and pull me to her,
It was God who told me to,
God who told me to.
Long nights, short skirts, high heels taunt my eyes,
But I'm alright since god is on my side,
My head falls below her soft white thighs,
But I'm alright since god is on my side.
And could she be the one, to fall for this dirty rotten farmers son,
Oh her ankle chain it teases, makes me feel like I am twenty one,
And my poor tired eyes could do with some rest,
Just place my weary hands upon her chest.
Another Better Friend
There's no reason to be bored when,
a face like yours is adored by all men.
Your making up for lost time,
and your best ideas were mine.
At the age of twenty-seven,
you realised your bed was empty.
A child is what I need but your face is all I see.
Those bruises don't betray any violence on my part,
You've taken my possessions and your dressing like a tart,
but it's miserable and sluttish to be acting like I do in front of you.
No matter how you try you'll never be as cheap as me,
When people have got no one else they can always sleep with me,
and no one else could be a better friend to you than me.
It's not love it just smells like it,
the scent of summer is so exciting.
No matter how you brush your teeth,
I can still smell the nicotine.
And there's no face I'd rather kiss than,
your sweet face, oh when it's smiling.
I loved you until you were bedded,
and our parents still talk of a wedding.
Those bruises don't betray any violence on my part,
You've taken my possessions, we're both dressed up like tarts,
but it's miserable and sluttish to be acting like I do in front of you.
No matter how you try you'll never be as cheap as me,
When people have got no one else they can always sleep with me,
and no one else could be a better friend to you than me.
Love inside the stud farm
Girl, you're a teaser, what an earth did I just do to deserve a thing like you,
And there's love inside the stud farm tonight and while the horses buck and moan I've found a place in you called home.
You don't know what you've done to me,
With that voice, with those eyes,
With that smile, with that smell.
Oh, tonight you're going nowhere you are lying here with me,
Tonight you're skin is warm enough to rid this chill in me,
So open up your eyes, open up your mouth,
Let me kiss your forehead now the night has fallen down.
(oh, I've said it fifty times, I'm happy to reside,
nesting by your side, I will sleep with you tonight.)
Tactile
In five minutes I'll be leaving this room,
she doesn't listen but my word how I swoon when she talks,
but talk is never enough.
The dirty talk that's what's bothering me,
And the gaudy walls of this rented property,
I think I'm watching too much porn on TV.
But I won't go upstairs with her if she talks to me this way,
And I'm not lonely, I'm just bored,
Her clothes are strewn over the living room floor.
I don't want to get laid I just want to be held.
She is unfaithful to a husband 5 miles away,
She lives alone and she rues her wedding day,
She married beneath herself that's what her girlfriends say.
Her smile is sad but not the saddest I've ever seen,
The saddest smiles are in the dirty magazines,
She made me laugh and now she plans to make me scream.
And petticoat hems are rising to high,
Romance is dead I think I see the reason why,
I don't want to get laid I just want to be held.
Eloping
I bet your eyes aren't really that blue, I think they've been airbrushed in by an artist who doesn't care.
And I bet your hair isn't really that blonde, but isn't it the way we wanted it to be.
And I bet you don't usually smile that much, especially with some one like me.
And I bet you really sweat, but none of this is what I want to say to you.
I don't want to be dancing with the wallflower, I want you cause you've got painted toenails.
My tired arms ache just to hold you now.
I don't believe that you are still a virgin, so what say we get a little closer.
Come with me I'll take you on an airplane now,
And London from above at night will look like a billion lit candles,
And you face will glow red at the sunrise,
And god knows I really want to travel and god knows I really want to start anew, with you,
And god knows, god knows, god knows.
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Other Information
So we'd signed to Too Pure and we had to decide who or how we were going to record an album. I was so unbelievably lo-fi and indie at the time. I just thought we should record it on 4 track in my bedroom, and maybe we should have, certainly those versions exist of all these songs. We settled on Tony Doogan not so much because he's recorded Belle and Sebastian but because he'd in particular recorded 'Lazy Line Painter Jane'. It turned out that record was a bit of a fluke and he didn't really make records that sounded like that generally. He was an OK choice I think, I remember him being a bit indecisive and not really being too sure as to what we  were about. I was extremely principled about the proceedings and had strict rules as to how the record should be made. IE. everything live, no second takes, no echos or delays. I don't know what I was thinking of. I think I was really worried that something about the band would go missing or unheard if we didn't record it truthfully at the time, and that's what it sounds like; three folky white guys playing skiffle in a dry sounding wood room.
Its important to be clear about this, every song on that record is truly a first or on maybe on one occasion a second take, the vocal take is the one I'm doing whilst playing the guitar etc.etc. A lot of people say they do these things , but in this case it really is true.
 I'm glad that the record is honest, but sometimes honesty is a conceit in itself and I know its sacrilege for some Hefner fans to hear this but I really can't stand to hear this album now. The singing is just too bad, having said that I know that a large percentage of people think this is us at our best so what can you do?
I have a theory that each of the four Hefner albums owes its character to a member of the band (despite the fact that I wrote all the songs), and the theory goes like this. Breaking is Ants record, Fidelity Wars is mine, City is Johns and Dead Media is Jacks.
Whilst making this record John was still the new guy and had still to make his mark on the production, essentially it was still me and Antony working through our folk fantasies. Ant plays loads of stuff on this record, including quite a lot of the guitar overdubs and vocals and stuff. I met Antony in 1990 at art college. My first words to him were 'So you like the Wooden Tops then?' because that's what he had written on his paint box. On the first day we had to paint a self portrait, Antony painted himself surrounded by potatoes, and when asked why he replied 'I like potatoes'. There's a refreshing simplicity to working with Antony, he never makes it hard work. One thing which not many people seem to  notice or comment on with BGH is that apart from one song there is no kick drum on the album. This came about simply from the fact that Antony didn't have one, and we wanted to go to gigs on the tube. Soon after this album Antony relented and got his kick drum though I for one was disappointed as it made soundchecks twice as long .
The Sad Witch, is one of my oldest tunes, its more of that silly mythic metaphor mixed up with teenage stuff but it works well, and its dead catchy. That top line is played on a little 12 string electric mandolin that I bought for stupid money and only really used once, on this.
A Hymn for the Postal Service, I think was the first Hymn song I wrote, the idea was to write a whole series of songs about my favourite things, it was kind of a writing exercise for me to find stories to attach to all of these objects or themes, and it definitely produced some of best songs. That's John playing the feedback guitar. The girl singing is Gayl Harrison (though a different Gayl Harrison who recorded the first singles), I've lost contact with her now, she used to be in a band called Electroscope who we stayed with whilst recording this album up in Scotland.
 The Librarian was one of my first 'story' or 'character' songs and perhaps for me the strongest song on this album. That's Antony's first lead vocal on a Hefner song.
God is on My Side is me trying to be sexy I think, god help us.
Another Better Friend, is just a re-recorded version of A Better Friend.
Love inside the Stud Farm is a sweet song, its the first love song I wrote about Helen, who I'm still with today. I first went out with her before BGH, and that period and our break up informs most of BGH and Fidelity Wars. Between Fidelity Wars and We Love the City, we got back together which is why that album is so happy in contrast to these.
 Tactile; this though in contrast was written before I'd met Helen and had gone about 2 years without a shag, and boy does it show!
Eloping, this is such an odd song, I really love it but it just seems so unlike me , the rhythm and everything. I've never written anything like it again. We did some blistering live performances of this song which were sadly never captured.
When the album was released we did four gigs in one day at the two Rough Trade shops, the Beggars Banquet shop in Putney and the Monarch in Camden. The album got our best set of reviews, we got features in the music press and we even made a few end of year polls, none of which changes the fact that I think all of our other albums are better than this, sorry.
photos (from top); CaVa studio 2 control room (Hefner), BGH engineer Tony Doogan (D Hayman), Darren and John in Ca Va studios Glasgow recording BGH (A Harding), The to-do list (D Hayman), Darren pretending to work the desk (A Harding), Coffee, oranges, fags , paracetomol, throat lozenges, the BGH diet (D Hayman),Breakings heart promo photoshoot outtake , A very young Ant circa 1990 (D Hayman), 5 more BGH shots (Hefner), Hefner playing outside the Rough Trade shop in Notting Hill during the 4 gigs in one day thing (J.Denitto). |
