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about
Acoustic indie folk with warmth and poignancy in equal measures
A song for Giovanna, who danced to the beat of her own drum
lyrics
You took me and my sister by the hand
To buy us coffee ice cream from the man, in Milan
We were speaking English, you couldn’t understand
‘Cause you could only lip-read in Italian
You were born in ‘33 in Tangiers
Your father, my grandfather, an engineer, an engineer
They fed you camels milk, for a day or two
And the stories about you are mostly true
In the 50s you rode with AC Milan
Holding Nils Liedholm by the hand, by the hand
They were winners then, and this they knew
That the stories about you are mostly true
Giovanna reach out, and take my hand, we’ll walk in silence, do you understand, of course you do
You said I was like the son you never had, I loved you with every heartbeat that I had
I last saw you at your window in Milan, Giovanna, the world without you is so sad
Chiarina’s getting cross with you again
She’s drinking caffeina in the dark, in the den
Someone said they saw you in the town
These are the kind of stories going round
Drinking, playing cards with Fran and Luke
Memorising all the cards you took, from the pack
Your memories are now all locked away
I like to relive that September day
You shuffle down the corridor alone
Held in a silent bubble made of stone, made of stone
I skip ahead so you can see my lips
And read the words that silently I slip
Giovanna reach out, and take my hand, we’ll walk in silence, do you understand, of course you do
You said I was like the son you never had, I loved you with every heartbeat that I had
I last saw you at your window in Milan, Giovanna, the world without you is so sad
(Repeat)
Listen carefully and you can trace my journey from my native Italy, via Oxford and Edinburgh, to Venice, back to Edinburgh,
relocating to Madrid, onward to Santiago de Compostela, over to London, up to the Scottish Borders, down to Devon and just now arrived in the Scottish Highlands. Am I a wandering troubadour, questing endlessly for the elusive flame of song, or am I just Lost in the Woods?...more
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