Get all 8 Amina Shareef Ali releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of In The Dark (Awake Of Course), Vol. 2, Songs She Didn't Write, In The Dark (Awake Of Course), Vol. 1, A Place to Remember the Dead, How To End The War, Holy Rock & Roll, The Once & Future Boyfriend, and Music From And Inspired By Our Doomed Love Affair.
1. |
If My Love
04:42
|
|||
|
If my love, if my love, if my love,
if my love is a curse--
Honey, you've got it bad,
but I've still got it worse.
If the cure, if the cure, if the cure,
if the cure is a pill,
well then wash it with whiskey.
Let it work what it will.
And do that drug and that drink
make you shrink, make you grow?
(A wink.) The latter, methinks,
and here's how I know.
The broader your back,
the more troubles can be heaped upon it.
The thicker your heel,
the rougher the stones think you want it.
The larger your brain,
the better to grasp this truth:
the bigger your heart,
the more bits it can break into.
If my life, if my life, if my life,
if my life is a thread,
then where does it end?
And what shall I use it to mend?
If the tear, if the tear, if the tear,
if the tear is too wide
for this strand to span,
for the tailor's hand to hide,
then what shall we, shall we, shall we,
what shall we wear?
And what do we risk
if we leave ourselves bare?
The broader your back,
the more troubles can be heaped upon it.
The thicker your heel,
the rougher the stones think you want it.
The larger your brain,
the better to grasp this truth:
the bigger your heart,
the more bits it can break into.
So I've got a piece for each and every one of you!
Yes, I've got a piece for each and every one of you!
|
||||
2. |
Wikipedia Brown
04:29
|
|||
|
When my mind is in the gutter, or my heart’s in outer space,
there’s somewhere I return to. Yes, I’m sure you know the place.
So sacred, it knows everything: if it’s worth knowing at all,
it is written. Who cares if it’s true or false?
And if I thought my trials were notable, and I wouldn’t be the first,
though they frown on self-reportage and original research,
I’d break the code. I’d let them know. I’d put my stories down.
And you’d know me as Wikipedia Brown.
From every soaring romance down to every futile crush:
if it taught me well, or brought me hell, I’d let you know as much.
Tricia Keane, Amina Bean, your articles are stubs;
but that don’t mean you’re not being thought of.
The Wikipedia of my love life—
It might not be suitable for young eyes.
While I’m sure a simple journal would have sufficed,
this way, I can scrub the details, I can always rewrite,
plus everything’s linked, just like in real life.
Well, now and then I’ll stumble on something I didn’t know,
like, how Weird Al lost his parents (found poisoned in their home).
But mostly I just read about the things I’ve read before;
figure I’d rather know better than know more.
And if I ever had to prove my love, we could simply look it up.
Your entry there, under current affairs: “Sarah Rice (Pudding Cup)”.
And content may change rapidly, as with all recent events,
but if you check back, you can find out how it went.
But as for my biography, I hope history will be kind.
‘Cause if I leave tomorrow, Claire, I won’t leave much behind.
Besides the scores of uncut songs, I'll not judge what they’re worth,
there’s no doubt that our love was my life’s work.
The Wikipedia of my love life—
Well, it may never see a ray of sunlight;
but if your name comes up, don’t act so surprised.
We’re bound to record, and we’re doomed to reflect;
what else do you do with all you can’t forget?
From every soaring romance down to every futile crush:
if it mocked my grace, or rocked my face, I’d credit it as such.
Julie hon, oh, Amy Gun, your articles are stubs,
but that don’t mean you’re not being thought of.
|
||||
3. |
You're A Fox
04:48
|
|||
|
I've got a crush on you,
because you're fine.
Your breath is a wicked wind
blowing my mind.
Your mouth moves in and out of view,
your hair tossed to the side,
and I don't know which is lovelier,
what's hidden, or what hides.
You put every strand in place,
and you smooth the folds of your dress.
And you sit just like a lady, and everyone's impressed.
But I don't know who you think you're fooling in those human clothes.
You're a fox, and everyone knows.
Ah, those windows to your soul
are just the skylight to my cell.
I'm just one more poor joe
fallen down your well.
Oh, but that man you keep around,
handsome devil, charming too.
I'd probably want him
if I had anything left after you.
But when I see you coming, I freeze still as the air.
I know my clock is running, and I haven't got a prayer.
You're sure to sense my terror, if you only use your nose.
You're a fox, and everyone knows.
What's more lethal than a siren?
A siren with a microphone.
We're a crowded hall of soldiers
silenced by an infant's moan.
And I don't believe in spirits
but you've spooked me more than once.
That time we talked for twenty minutes
shook me like a damn seance.
But all of it's recorded, so I know it's not just me.
See, I've taken notes, done interviews, and all of us agree.
The doctor you ruined, the saint you drowned, the eskimo you froze--
You're a fox, and everyone knows.
|
||||
4. |
Holy Rock & Roll
03:56
|
|||
|
I wanna rock and roll, if you know what I mean.
What I want isn't dirty, but it sure ain't clean.
You want to know if I'll go to the show with you.
Girl, I'd go to the garbage dump if you asked me to.
I wanna kiss you like they do in France.
I wanna show you I can ride, mama, with no hands.
Want you to pull out your gun and make me dance.
I wanna rock and roll in the biblical sense.
There's music in your body, honey, don't be shy.
I could quote chapter and verse from your inner thigh.
Sing me a sweet little number, yeah, you know the one.
Girl, you keep singing like that, you're gonna make me sigh.
I wanna kiss you like they do in France.
I wanna show you I can ride, mama, with no hands.
Want you to pull out your gun and make me dance.
And in the biblical sense--in the most strictly biblical sense--
I wanna rock and roll!
Holy rock and roll!
|
||||
5. |
||||
|
Each time I try to walk out the door,
I never make it past the hall.
I rush back to kiss you, and you wonder what for.
Nothing, I just love you is all.
Each time I pull you nearer to me,
I can’t get close enough to you, doll.
Don’t ask me. You know just what the answer’ll be:
Nothing I just love you is all.
So if you see me staring off real funny,
don’t look for reasons. You know what you’ll find.
You’ve caught me with my mind on my honey,
and my honey on my mind.
Each time you leave, and this might sound dumb,
I just can’t wait for you to call.
I get all worked up, I don’t know how come.
It’s nothing, I just love you is all.
Each time those drops well up in your eyes,
I just want to catch them all.
I’ll never get tired of telling you why.
Nothing, I just love you is all.
|
||||
6. |
||||
7. |
Red Balloon
06:01
|
|||
|
And when the dream leaves,
like the red balloon drifting away,
each second it only gets further,
and bluer the day.
And never mind getting it back;
how could you have let go so soon?
And then you remember:
it wasn't red, or a balloon.
But the homeless man wakes
to an ungentle nudge from the cop.
He doesn't know what he keeps doing wrong,
but he can't seem to stop.
And the cop's telling him to go,
but he won't tell him where.
It's strange; you remember
the first time you heard your mother swear.
You pay money you've never touched
to people that you've never seen,
for some promise you don't understand,
but could ruin everything.
And you're sure what you owe
seems like more than these things could've cost,
And it's strange, you remember
the first fistfight you ever lost.
On TV there's a man
who they say may be next to lead this country.
They pick him to pieces,
but you still hope it adds up to something.
It's absurd, you admit,
but you were stirred by the speeches he gave;
it's strange when it occurs to you
to visit your father's grave.
You climb into the shower
and you can't seem to stay long enough.
Some things rinse right away;
others, you'll never be rid of.
Now you're crouched to the floor,
filthy as any language you've heard.
Strange enough, it reminds you
of your first favorite four-letter word.
Oh, Love: the places and lengths
that you'll go just to meet her.
In plain shape and shame to some bar,
or in disguise to some theater.
Oh, it's corny, it's tacky,
but you're still glad that she made you come.
And then strange, you think
of the first time you made yourself come.
So then you two retreat,
where the lights and the judgment are softer.
And you grope for the switch
in the dark, unmusical, awkward.
But then you find the tune,
and she starts to hum like a machine;
strange, you remember
the one you crashed when you were sixteen.
Now she's sleeping soft,
and you cradle her like your balloon,
and then, strange as a dream,
it's floating right there in the room with you.
And you can't recognize it,
or fathom what lightness it holds inside.
And you can't hold your own.
Can you remember the last time you cried?
|
||||
8. |
This Heart Is Not A Home
04:33
|
|||
|
Well, you broke down in the desert,
blown out without a spare.
And I had to stop and click my tongue.
"That's a real beaut you got there."
You laughed, "What, this old clunker?
I've had it since I was a teen."
"Oh, it's a classic fixer-upper.
I can make it run like a dream."
But you said, "This heart is not your project.
It needs more than you're investing."
I replied, "Cost is no object,
if that's what you're suggesting."
And I tasted it that one time,
just a slave to my sweet tooth.
It was ready to drop from the vine,
overripe and easily bruised.
And I sank my teeth into the flesh
of that gushing, sticky treat.
Then I buckled, feeling poisoned,
as you staggered to your feet.
You said, "This heart is not your supper,
not some fabled knowledge fruit.
And whatever you learned but didn't earn,
it falls from grace with you."
"Well, this heart is not a ladybug
to catch to charm your fate.
It isn't a prescription drug
to heal, intoxicate
or to help you sleep at night.
This love is not your light.
And sweet or cruel, it isn't fuel
for those cheap love songs you write."
Well, our terms were violated.
I had to evict you from my heart.
And someone spray-painted 'slumlord'
at your going-away party.
Well, you won't get any deposit back,
and I've changed the locks on the doors.
But there's still all this shit lying around,
and I'm sure some of it's yours.
Well, this heart is not a home for you,
it's a warehouse for all spite.
And our love's lost in there somewhere,
but we won't find it tonight.
|
||||
9. |
Sunken Treasure
07:11
|
|||
|
We've both been running from something we can't see.
You've been treasure hunting, a chest sunk in the sea.
I've been saving something I keep inside of me.
Are my feet on the ground,
or is my head in the sand?
Is there more to be found
than this heart in your hand?
'Cause we ain't seen a damn thing.
We don't know where the ship sank.
But my love is worth something.
You can take it to the bank.
We've combed those beaches of semi-precious stones.
Riches beneath us, how much I'll never know.
All I've learned of each is how far it could be thrown.
Are my feet on the ground,
or is my head in the sand?
Is there more to be found
than this heart in your hand?
'Cause we ain't seen a damn thing.
We don't know where the ship sank.
But my love is worth something.
You can take it to the bank.
I said, my love is worth something.
You can take that to the bank.
|
||||
Amina Shareef Ali Oakland, California
Based in Oakland, California, Amina Shareef Ali performs songs of love and struggle, of pain and wonder, of loss and redemption. Lyrics by turns poignant and sardonic are set against a backdrop of American music both traditional and modern, from folk to punk to country to jazz to rock and roll. ... more
Amina Shareef Ali recommends:
Wonderful, lush production and the most delightfully raspy alt-folk-pop voice you've ever heard.
go to album
Distractible Child
by Kelly McFarling
Kelly truly explores the full palette of strength and vulnerability with her amazing voice. The band is tight and soulful as well.
go to album
All Where I Go Are People I Know
by Go Slowpoke
Sardonic but sincere indie pop. Check out the anthemic "Girl, You Make Me Clean My Room" to get hooked forever.
go to albumIf you like Holy Rock & Roll, you may also like:
Forever Only Idaho
by Harrison Lemke
Big, strummy songs that recall the heart-on-sleeve earnestness and lo-fi glory of early Mountain Goats.
go to album
Dakota Blue Moon
by Jackson Harden
Gorgeous acoustic Americana from North Carolina, stripped-back and sublime.
go to album
Caught Up On A Feeling
by Veronica Stanton
Stunningly beautiful orchestral folk songs with just a hint of country, delivered with heart-on-sleeve immediacy.
go to album
