"Astounding;
you can hear Susannah heartache and hear her tormented breathing... her
lyrics are powerful.. the instrumentation excellent.. An excellent
album for anyone who has graduated from four line stanza driven pop
songs and for anyone who needs more depth, creativity and beauty in
their listening material. The album is nothing short of remarkable" Rip
it Up (New Zealand)
"One of
this country's most gifted, probing and intelligent writers... [How
the Dead Live] is a dark, emotionally intense and musically arresting
concept album..delivered in lean poetry and electrifying
folk-noir... soundscapes of the kind Reyne
deployed to such great effect on Passenger. An impressive
achievement" Elsewhere
(New Zealand) full
review here
"A
jewel of industrial folk...(Reyne's) fascinatingly powerful voice...and
reliance on substance over gloss make „How the Dead Live“ an impressive
album. Disturbingly beautiful. A must have - not just for lovers of
dark and industrial folk, but for everyone." Unser
Luebeck (Germany) full review here
"A
fascinating and intense listen. Reyne's voice,
as ever, is a gift and.. she chooses to use it by
applying
the tools of a story writer and an illustrator... here is something
worth celebrating, a song writer who didn't come down
in the last shower of record company advances and marketing hype"
The Dominion Post
(Wellington, New Zealand)
“a work that delves deeply
into the psyche of the land and our European forebears. A soundtrack to
the cinema of unease" New Zealand Musician
“A
fierce and
unflinching vision, familiar to those who know
Reyne’s work. Perfectly etched with double vocals combined
with that dense, intense electronic backdrop…”
William Dart, New
Horizons, Radio New Zealand.
personell
"How
the
Dead Live"
was written and performed entirely by Jordan Reyne with drums on "The
Brave", "the Proximity of Death" and "Remembering the Dead" by Nick
Clarke. Engineered by Jordan Reyne
(pre-production/production) Simon Holloway and Mahuia (Beaver Studios -
Post Production). Mixing by Simon Holloway and Jordan Reyne (Beaver
Studios). Mastering by Simon Holloway. Album Artwork by Mary
McGreggor-Reid of Blackrobin Design.
Made possible by D.O.C and The Arts Council of New
Zealand (Creative New
Zealand).
lyrics - How the
dead live
1)
from Gravesend
In
which Susannah, her family and History
arrive in
Karamea
In
a town so small it barely had a name
The Fates weighed quiet anchor on the shore.
While ancient trees stood darkly in our way:
the tide went out.
Even
History is surprised that she should be here
And her footprints look like questions in the sand.
She looks at Death and wonders what he'll give her
and the tide goes out.
And
Duty takes my hand and wears me grey
while clouds make weightless exit over sea.
With all the letters never sent, yours never came
And the tide goes out.
The tide goes out again.
Here,
the smell of winter
Isn't one I used to know.
And all these trees retain their colour
Though the endless rain
Should wash them through.
2)
the Micheal Angelo
Susannahs
memories of the journey inside the
ship
"Micheal Angelo"
on which many pioneer families travelled to Nelson Bays before heading
to Karamea
This
song has no lyrics
3) The Witness
In
which History expresses her disgust at being
assigned
to task of following Susannahs insignificant story
Your
eyes shine wet in the dark
And I'm
murderous.
The southern wind fills this mast and
Takes this cargo safely to
a nowhere town
To make nothing of them
They
make me watch you and ask
I am
Murderous.
The ocean chews at the earth
Will they pull you down under crashing waves
and violent sea?
I'd make a story for you:
Murder.
You'll
find ways
Of dragging seconds out
Into days.
Don't let it come to that
You heard:
Don't let it come to that
3
faces that whisper at me:
"murderess murderess"
so where is Death when I ask to be
over you?
Please ask him
please ask him to
bear you out down in steady hands
with no requiem.
What would I say?
Murder
You'll
ask for home
Till every little echo of her is
thin and worn.
I only wait here
and Say: "it is so".
Say: "it is so".
4)
The Brave
Susannah
talks about the lives of ordinary
people and
how History overlooks them
There's
a black dog from the Fenian Rd
He follows everywhere I ever go.
When the earth is bare and nothing grows
He is company and we, will turn the stones.
When
the men are gone and the women speak
O her pretty eyes turn blind to me.
Though we mark the earth as we mark the time
Still she'll look at us, look at us as if we're nothing.
But
maybe, we are the Brave.
Though I know she'll never say.
Maybe we are the Brave
but she'll leave here, all the same
Theres
a dark man on Umere Rd
He speaks the native tongue none of us knows.
And of all her men, and all their deeds
She never speaks a word of his to me
But
Maybe we are the Brave
Though I know she'll never say.
Maybe we are the Brave
She will leave here, all the same
5)
The Dead
Susannah
speaks to Death about History
I'd
pay the wind to turn it off
You make an ice age from a dry dock.
I'll sit here and
wait
for the steamers to sail.
The
quiet earth turns in its sleep
And mountains fall into the sea.
There is nothing else but
waiting.
Waiting.
As
History shook her tired head
I spoke with a man who was already dead
Through yellow clouds of nicotine
He waved dismissive hands at me
He said:
You don't know that you're nothing.
I don't like words that talk of pain
And I'm really only waiting.
But it feels like
something.
6)
The Proximity of Death
History
fantasises about Death taking Susannah off her
hands.
There's
only 6 miles of bad road between you and I.
Only 6 miles of Bad Road and blue sky
If he gets there fast, you won't feel his breath
You won't catch my eye
But I count the time and I watch the days
Till he helps you fly.
There's
only 3 feet of shallow water between you and I.
So it isn't deep – but its just enough to make sure that
I..
O if you swam to the edge of things,
Where the earth meets the sky.
He will meet you there in the setting sun
With his empty eyes.
It's
a short, sharp drop, past 3 flights of stairs
between you and I.
So it isn't far, but you'd get there fast cos you're so
fragile
Will he see me smile, as you taste his tongue?
As you vanish by
You will feel his hands, and they're cold like bone
But they're gone with time
How
do you like your blue eyed boy?
How do you like your blue eyed boy?
7)
Ghosts (Lest we Forget)
Henry
(Susannahs husband) leaves for the Boer
War, which
History has decided to follow out of boredom with Susannahs story.
In
autumn you left with the evening
Cold hands held
Shivering.
Time runs slow, imagining
Warms arms round me in the rain.
While the sea keeps burying your name
The tide will bare its teeth to you
Sirens call the lonely.
Stars don't keep their promises and
God couldn't follow
all this way.
I
asked him to bring you here again.
But
there's noone in the sky.
There's noone in the fog.
There is
noone in the sky.
There is
Noone at all.
Today the breezes sent for me.
They brushed my face with kisses.
If I close my eyes would you
be there.
When I open them
Again.
I will
sing your name into the wind
But there's noone in the sky
Noone in the fog.
Noone in the sky
Noone at all.
8)
Blood
History
waxes gleeful at the prospect of blood,
gore and
a ripping good yarn. She leaves Susannah and forgets her.
This
is where the waiting stops and I
get to move again.
Like the ribs of wrecks worn bare by sea, you will
be forgotten.
This
is where the smell of blood on the air runs like
music through me
And a thousand men will meet their deaths
when I take them down
to Boer with me
I wish you wouldn't wait susannh, cos
the ships don't ever come.
Hope is something that will drive you twisted
in the end.
Now
I get to take the broken stories
of Kitcheners dead.
And mix them with the graves and names of lives
so bravely wasted.
This
is where I laugh at gestures that I never understood
How could you have let the quiet sink so deeply into you?
I don't have to wave susannah, but ill smile instead.
Then Ill throw away your name and the names
of all your kindred.
9)
Remembering the Dead
Susannah
sings to History as History leaves
You
wouldn't wait for me
You wouldn't wait for me.
Time can only
bury me.
In a borrowed grave
Under nameless trees.
While the empty face of your certainty, is
Clothed in sky, and dressed to leave
For the bloodstained tales
Of victory.
And
if I were your jailor
I'd have carried your freed to you
So you'd always remember
All the glory
It won't allow you.
