On Streets That Know

by Zygmunt Day & Echo Pressure

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about

On Streets That Know is the debut album from independent musician Zygmunt Day. It was written by Zygmunt and recorded with his band, Echo Pressure.

On Streets That Know takes its cues from folk music. Not because it is played on acoustic guitars and banjos, but because it is music that bears witness to experience, that is about work and struggle, and that draws sounds and stories from its physical and human surroundings. Zygmunt’s cover of Ewan MacColl’s song “Dirty Old Town,” originally about Salford in Manchester, was the starting point for the album, beginning an exploration of the relationships between place, imagination, work and relationships that underpin the songs.

In between sonic elements drawn from folk, rock, drone, dancehall and disco, there are echoes of elegiac English brass bands, a spoken word passage reciting graffiti from the wall of Zygmunt’s flats, textures from 1950s reed organs, ready for the tip, that were picked up by chance at jumble sales, and ideas from blogs, books, workshops, buses, flats and pubs.

Recorded independently over almost two years, this album has hard work and struggle at its very core. This album is a letter from England in the first few years of this decade; hoping, broken, evasive, and wry.

credits

released June 21, 2014

Echo Pressure: Zygmunt Day (vocals, guitars, keys, glockenspiel, misc), Joe Hyam (drums, autoharp, percussion), Oliver Bissill (bass), Giancarlo Grasso (guitar), Sophie Jamieson (vocals), Will Day (vocals), Tom Mellish (vocals), Conrad Steel (cello), Joe Murgatroyd (saxophone, clarinets, bass clarinet), Angie Rance (trumpet)

Personnel: Tim Kramer (engineer, producer, Inert Productions), Macks Faulkron (engineer, REX Studios), Sam Killin (engineer), Mike Hillier (mastering)

Artwork: Elliot Kennedy (photography), Chris Nott (design), Ross Aitken (CPB Brutal font)

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about

Echo Pressure England, UK

DIY band from London

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www.echopressure.com

email: echopressure@gmail.com

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Track Name: Kitchen Floor
Over time, my roots
Grew thorns around my foot
Strangling my steps,
And promises.

Sleeping off the booze,
I dream of rocket boots,
On the kitchen floor.

Ghost, don’t come no more.
Track Name: Hailstones
Heaven burst and soaked me to the bone
Walking like a pilgrim on the streets I’ve come to call my home.
Streets of metal, streets of rain, the only streets that know my name.
The only streets that know my name.

And all my friends and all their brothers change,
Grow into their dad’s mistakes and other clothes that fit so strange.
And our days will never come again,
No our days dissolve like tears in rain.
And when I hear them on the street,
I can’t ever fall asleep.
Streets of metal, streets of rain, the only streets that know my name.
The only streets that know my name.

And the skies are falling in,
On the streets I call my home,
Mama let the loved ones in,
Peeled off their dripping coats,
When a storm blows in,
We got nowhere else to go
Outside the pavements glittered
With hailstones.

And so I hide my pride for my mistakes,
To guarantee my family will love me and hurt me again.
So jokes and tears dissolve the pain,
But those tears come back and fall as rain,
And when they’re falling on the street,
I can’t ever fall asleep.
Streets of metal, streets of rain, the only streets that know my name.
The only streets that know my name.

And meanwhile, the shadow at my tail, lengthened a half mile on my way home
And too late, time grew me a new face, in place of a boy who I used to know
Track Name: Dirty Old Town
I met my love, by the gasworks wall,
Dreamed a dream, by the old canal,
I kissed my girl by the factory wall,
Dirty old town,
Dirty old town

Clouds are drifting across the moon,
Cats are prowling on their beats,
Spring’s a girl on the streets at night,
Dirty old town,
Dirty old town

Heard a siren from the docks,
Watched a train set the night on fire
I smelt the spring on the smoky breeze,
Dirty old town,
Dirty old town

I’m gonna take a good sharp axe,
Shining steel tempered in the fire,
I’ll cut you down,
Like an old dead tree,
Dirty old town,
Dirty old town

(by Ewan MacColl)
Track Name: Not Going Home Tonight
I learnt all I don’t know in schools,
And all I do from fools,
But I’m not scared,
I’m alright,
I’m not going home tonight.

And when I stop running and I look back,
I see the wolves have formed a pack,
But I’m not scared,
I’m alright,
I’m not going home tonight.

So send my love,
Send regards,
Send em all a deck of cards,
Let them draw out kings and knaves,
The jokers are the ones who know the game

Tomorrow I might be a beggar,
Might walk the streets like a leper,
But I’m not scared,
I’m alright,
I’m not going home tonight.

And if you really want to help me,
You could do worse than doubt me,
Cos I’m not scared,
I’m alright,
I’m not going home tonight.

Send my love,
Let them draw out kings and knaves again,
Jokers are the ones who know the game.
Track Name: Prisoner II
If I find myself alone,
In a city far from home,
Save my thoughts and write a note,
You will see the things I’ve done.

And red at night,
Evening closing on the dying light,
Darkness growing as the mist comes down,
Making ghosts of our friends in town.
Clocks go round and the late sun fades,
Cousins running in a field of shades,
Leave a light in the window on,
For all your girls and all your sons.

And every night I’ll think of home,
Wonder how the kids have grown,
Save my thoughts and write a note,
You will see the things I’ve done.
Track Name: This City Has An Echo
I’ll be,
Forever checking on my heartbeat,
Where stop-start meets the ever rising heat,
Pyres smoking on the corner of every street,
To burn a furrow in my reason,
And midnights filling through with poison,
A sickness kindles in the burning mind of man,
The flames come licking at the house we built on sand,
With hands uplifted for an answer,
Whether the bottle or the altar,
With streaming promises and hopes for the coming year,
To keep us honest in our faith and in our fear,
And all the sacrifice in secret,
And all the corridors that bear it,
The empty bottles that I broke on my way home,
The sound of shouting from the pubs on the London road,

I check my heart still beats,
And I promise that the change will come next year.

And outside,
All the leaves began to drift away,
The nightclub girls all looking younger than they say,
The changes stolen when we’re busy working days,
Showing our faces in the evenings,
And chasing after some rare feeling,
With shirts and miniskirts and promises half-made,
To always be in love and never be ashamed,

When you go home with them,
And I promise that the change will come next year.

And no jobs, no jobs, no jobs.
Track Name: Polish Last Name
I borrowed the cash,
To pay everybody back,
At the pub I cleared my tab,
Freedom.

Starting on a job,
I can’t leave my hands unwashed,
I can’t stay if I’ve not got,
A reason.

And it’s harder to say,
Than a Polish last name,

But this old ground gets harder to walk round
Like to young clown who used to get thrown out
Of pubs in my hometown

And can I repay, regrets on time borrowed, from my own tomorrows?

All the nightclub girls
Woke up with their hair uncurled
In rooms ’cross town with memories waiting

The clouds bruise pink at dawn,
We were bruised when we were born
And we work long hours for lives worth chasing

And it’s harder to say,
Than a Polish last name,

But this old doubt keeps making me fall out
With the dark sound that smokes in the parks round
By loving, warm, hometown

And can I repay, the promises borrowed, from my own tomorrows?
Track Name: Wanderers
With chalk on the walls we listed the names
That dented our hours like knees in wet clay,
And the sound of the rain came down through the grey,
Softly that day.

As time bears us back to places we’ve lived,
Our lives come like waves that break on a cliff,
And the sound of the rain came down through the mist,
Soft as a kiss.

Come wanderers, we’ll go, home where the rains fall,
Come wanderers, we’ll go, home,
Home to the hurt we know,
And home for the love we owe,
Come wanderers we’ll go,
We’ll go,

When your memory’s loosened a while,
On the dreams you had as a child,
When the sound of the rain came down on the tiles,
We heard it for miles.

Stopped at the end of the street,
It was like meeting myself in a dream,
And of my memories were folding in,
And all the windows were listening.

Stopped at the streetlight again,
It was like meeting myself in a dream,
All of my memories were falling in,
And all the windows were listening.
Track Name: Changing Grace
I was born in Autumn,
And I came up fighting,
In a town that weeps for change,
While a ghost strokes its face.

I stole fruit from summers,
That were wet with fever,
Sucked fried meat from chicken bones,
Winter buried in the snow.

And these are days, of changing grace,
That sew their secrets into creases on a face

And I wish that you could have seen, all the people that I have been,
And the houses where I have lived,
The stories that I believed,
All waiting somewhere, in the night.

With our love of reasons,
We were always mourning,
For the nights that kept nosebleeds,
Running read over teeth.

With our love of reasons,
We lost all the language,
To speak truth to smouldering souls,
Bearing hearts like hot coals.

So call it by it’s name,
And call it out: the changing same.
Track Name: Prisoner Reprise
I was the watcher on the corner, as a flock of sparrows took to wing, and lost themselves amongst the chimney-pots, and the early-evening fog that rolled in, brushing up against the rooftops.

I walked home past the strip club; the bouncers there are built like tanks - double-muscles, rippling layers of steriodal flesh, that stretch the stitching on their black bomber jackets.

From the train, abandoned flats are a decorated shell, behind a fence of chipboard panels - I try to read some of the tags.

Far off, the shoulders of the buildings are lost into the fog. Their lights shimmer, hardly visible from here.

But from here, I can see the skeleton of the gasworks; good memories of evenings with my sensible, soft girl, and down by the canal, the spot where I dreamed up a dream with which to torture myself.

Well, at some point we all want something else.

I used to wish a change would come next year, now I wish I had the tools to build it here.

I used to wish a change would come next year. Now I wish I had the tools to make it here.