# (Works in progress)
by Boyarin
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Useless Lights
05:16
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Oliphaunt
05:58
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Invasions
04:46
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Emergency Exit
07:30
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6. |
You
03:30
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Progéniture
07:02
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8. |
Impossible Corners
03:55
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9. |
Progéniture [reprise]
01:14
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Grande-Garabagne
07:49
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11. |
Rafflesia
05:21
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13. |
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about
Not available yet. Still working on it. Let's keep in touch…
contact: msboyarin@gmail.com
"C'est par une royale issue de secours qu'on est entré dans l'univers musical de Boyarin. Soit la chanson Emergency Exit, invraisemblable dédale de près de huit minutes, chanson-gigogne capable de rendre chèvre n'importe quel expert en chausse-trappes mélodiques et en casse-tête harmoniques. A la première écoute, l'esprit tout embrumé par l'émotion, on a pensé un peu trop facilement avoir mis l'oreille sur un nouveau spécimen de petit génie de la pop baroque […]. A la deuxième écoute, on a confusément senti que cette affaire était loin d'être classée, que quelque chose d'autrement déviant se tapissait dans la trame proliférante de cette musique étrangement organique, dans la langue savante causée par ces claviers un peu cheap et par cette drôle de voix haut perchée […]. Aux écoutes suivantes […] s'imposait au moins cette évidence : on se trouvait face à une musique aussi limpide dans ses manifestations sensibles qu'énigmatique dans ses principes. Et les autres pièces – chantées ou instrumentales […] devaient enfoncer le clou : mouvantes et imprévisibles, comme douées d'une existence autonome, elles semblaient sorties de la conscience supérieure et des mains expertes d'un compositeur et instrumentiste rompu à des formes inédites de sortilèges. Richard Robert, "L'Oreille Absolue" n°4, février 2011: www.loreilleabsolue.com/article/Boyarin_J-essaie_de_cr%C3%A9er_des_formes_de_vie
"Boyarin - Emergency Exit. Sept minutes d'hallucination auditive, pendant lesquelles l'esprit de Bach se réincarne en bricoleur pop de génie : ce garçon est à suivre.
Les Inrockuptibles, 24/02/09, p. 68, "10 Chansons sur le Net";
www.lesinrocks.com/actualite/actu-article/t/36385/date/2009-02-21/article/week-end-top-ten-8/
www.lesinrocks.com/lesinrockslab/artiste/profil/boyarin/
******
"Derrière Boyarin se cache un grand amateur de la pop bricolo d'Animal Collective, des orchestrations généreuses à la Divine Comedy, des B.O. inoubliables d'Ennio Morricone et de l'élégance de Blonde Redhead. Foutez tout cela dans un shaker et cela nous donne "Emergency Exit", soit sept minutes d'une symphonie complètement folle, une chevauchée pop fantastique qui témoigne de la douce folie créatrice qui habite ce jeune Français pour le moins prometteur" Goûte mes disques, compilation Jeunes Pousses vol. 2, oct. 2009 || www.goutemesdisques.com/dossiers/id/compilation-gmd-jeunes-pousses-vol-2/
contact: msboyarin@gmail.com
"C'est par une royale issue de secours qu'on est entré dans l'univers musical de Boyarin. Soit la chanson Emergency Exit, invraisemblable dédale de près de huit minutes, chanson-gigogne capable de rendre chèvre n'importe quel expert en chausse-trappes mélodiques et en casse-tête harmoniques. A la première écoute, l'esprit tout embrumé par l'émotion, on a pensé un peu trop facilement avoir mis l'oreille sur un nouveau spécimen de petit génie de la pop baroque […]. A la deuxième écoute, on a confusément senti que cette affaire était loin d'être classée, que quelque chose d'autrement déviant se tapissait dans la trame proliférante de cette musique étrangement organique, dans la langue savante causée par ces claviers un peu cheap et par cette drôle de voix haut perchée […]. Aux écoutes suivantes […] s'imposait au moins cette évidence : on se trouvait face à une musique aussi limpide dans ses manifestations sensibles qu'énigmatique dans ses principes. Et les autres pièces – chantées ou instrumentales […] devaient enfoncer le clou : mouvantes et imprévisibles, comme douées d'une existence autonome, elles semblaient sorties de la conscience supérieure et des mains expertes d'un compositeur et instrumentiste rompu à des formes inédites de sortilèges. Richard Robert, "L'Oreille Absolue" n°4, février 2011: www.loreilleabsolue.com/article/Boyarin_J-essaie_de_cr%C3%A9er_des_formes_de_vie
"Boyarin - Emergency Exit. Sept minutes d'hallucination auditive, pendant lesquelles l'esprit de Bach se réincarne en bricoleur pop de génie : ce garçon est à suivre.
Les Inrockuptibles, 24/02/09, p. 68, "10 Chansons sur le Net";
www.lesinrocks.com/actualite/actu-article/t/36385/date/2009-02-21/article/week-end-top-ten-8/
www.lesinrocks.com/lesinrockslab/artiste/profil/boyarin/
******
"Derrière Boyarin se cache un grand amateur de la pop bricolo d'Animal Collective, des orchestrations généreuses à la Divine Comedy, des B.O. inoubliables d'Ennio Morricone et de l'élégance de Blonde Redhead. Foutez tout cela dans un shaker et cela nous donne "Emergency Exit", soit sept minutes d'une symphonie complètement folle, une chevauchée pop fantastique qui témoigne de la douce folie créatrice qui habite ce jeune Français pour le moins prometteur" Goûte mes disques, compilation Jeunes Pousses vol. 2, oct. 2009 || www.goutemesdisques.com/dossiers/id/compilation-gmd-jeunes-pousses-vol-2/
credits
released 20 June 2012
tags
license
all rights reserved
feeds
feeds for discography
-
Jun 2012 -
Dec 2010
contact / help
For help with downloads, click here.
For all other inquiries, click here.
Redeem download codes here.
- Track Name: Useless Lights
-
I took a knife from the sideboard
I stealt some cash you put aside
I gently ran away through winding lanes
I wrote a letter and I hid it behind a shelf
You'll find it years from now
You'll read it and maybe you'll remember
We tried to live as they do
We tried to have a kind of pleasant life
We rented proper thoughts and usual advice
But we got into debts for we weren't hardworking
These expensive pastimes / these costly commonplaces
I have now to turn off useless lights
And watch the night
I miss the years we have wasted
I miss the beauties we lost
I have to map this slow disaster
I'll dig to the bottom of the history of failure
Before I’ll stop to moan
Before i'll pull down my watchtower
I have to go down to the sewer
and feel the water
****
Storm in the morning
Puddles on the track
Old tyre marks
And rubbish left by poachers
Setting out for my hidden recess where i will rest my mind
Swamps by the old gas station
Hungry creatures roam around
Clouds of bugs assault each moving flesh
Heaps of rusty scrap
And i mingled with foxes with hedgehogs with lizards
And i got old fast - crawling in the sludge of a mean world - Track Name: Oliphaunt
-
I saw your eyes snowing fears that filled your plate
A cold-flat tiredness flooded your whole gear like tons of oils
You spent summers in a jar
You fished old nails on tar
To build your spaceship
There must be some old stars to born on
I heard you hunting your past like slugs in the grass
An angry music fell off from your hands and scared the garden
You’d love to be a secure land
You’d love to care about a friend
But they have taught you to wear this insane coat
to hush
There’s a cellar in your mind you fail to open
Your potentials have expired
And if you’re tied to empty days and blank relationships
Please give me a call and I will come a-running
I’ll always be your Oliphaunt
Just sit on my back
Social workers steal your sun and build fake horizons
Dumb employers breathe your very own air
And if you feel you’re getting sick and thrown in the wind
Please give me a call and I will come a-running
I’ll always be your Oliphaunt
Just hang on to my neck
You’re a schooner in a pond where they go swimming
You’re the one they cannot turn into salt
But if it becomes too hard to handle, too bitter to drink
Please send me a mail and I will come a-running
I’ll always be your Oliphaunt
Just sleep while I drive - Track Name: Invasions
-
They dress up in ancient memories
they hide themselves behind trees and curtains
they vanish in the midday sun
their cold shapes arise with the evening moons
they're singing an insane chorus
they exactly know your fears
They're spying your moves
They're whispering these lines:
« We know how to turn you lazy
how to turn you into a stone
it's a heavy sluggish life
it's a daily failure, boy
we painted all things grey
every faces you're going to remember
we cancelled the flavours
we gently unpick all your clothes
until your heart turns cold »
White worms in the morning milk
dead birds falling from the morning skies
Could you please help me to run
away from their cannibal soldiers
for I am invaded
they're unseeable they're countless spies
they always get what they want
« You’ll keep up complaining
what you see coming is what you're scared of
from the crenels of your mansion
from your shelter in the mountains
Are you really breathing?
Is there anybody here?
They own the sighs that live and die in your mouth
Aimless thoughts are their homeland
They consume everything » - Track Name: Emergency Exit
-
I gave you all I got
I left my friends and threw my past away
And I became a frozen machine
I ruined my job and I jumped in your bag
Where my spine turned to haze
Trying to fit with your certainties
When will I be able to stand up to the one I feed
The one who wrings my aching mind?
I grab and mumble my chant
Staring at the emergency exit
I signed a long-term lease for morning thrills and afternoon relapses
I let the years compose a maze
And everyday I check our faces drawn on the bathroom mirror glass
I feel your shivers in my days
When will I be able to stand up to the one I feed
The one who wrings my aching mind?
I grab and mumble this chant
Remembering that
I had to drown you in the tub
Hide your body under the rug
I saw a narrow light that did not last
Tell me please: have we blocked the emergency exit?
When will I be ready to snatch
the little bugs that fill the space around our melting corpse?
We lay here since we’ve been inventing each other
I had to drown you in the tub
Hide your body under the rug
I tried to rectify but we’ve still locked in our can
And is there any emergency exit
Door? - Track Name: You
-
You fear the glance of everyone
You hide yourself in the shadow of a lamb
You’re a dumb
You’re a plum
You are scrubbing your old slum
You keep gambling on the ever-losing hand
You’re a clown
You’re a plot against the fun
Rain falls down on your town
The shops are closed, the day has gone
You shake
Your tiny dying lung
What kind of life have you found ?
You steal the money that you own
You hide yourself beneath a steamy argument
You’re a clown
You are drowned
You had your life in your hand
But you’ve lost your way too many times to count
You are wrong
You’re a plot against the fun
Rain falls down on your town
The shops are closed the day has gone
You shake
Your tiny dying lung
What kind of job have you done ? - Track Name: Progéniture
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Tim wears your coat and Phil is walking by your street
With your favorite black shoes on
Olivia writes your novel and Pete plays your song
Louis is working on your precious computer
And Sebastian looks like you
You are an ancient function,
You're living in an outdated version
There was a time when you met some people
When you were having fun
Your jokes were famous
But Sylvie forgot your name and Steve thinks you are Another person
No one is talking to these kind of people
They simply garnish alleys and parks
***
Did I really meet you
Is there something I confided in you?
Are you this guy I once saw at the station,
In the kitchen of my parents' home?
They said I have to be brave
And I guess I wasn't very brave
***
No one is waiting for these kind of people
Trains left the stations before they breath
No one is living with these kind of people
Their houses are hidden far from town
I don't recall, I just have this feeling:
we’re far from the good times
You were the favorite one
I should remind why
You came and went
And disappeared from Earth
I don't recall, I just have this feeling
We’re far from the good times
You were the favorite one
The favorite son
I joined the pale grey teams
I rented a little house
Far from dangers and thrills
I don't get it, I never thought I should
Stay away from you
I joined the pale grey people
The pale grey sands
There's nothing to burn,
Nothing to light on
(I don't rejoice, I still bear this sadness
I don't care what you've done)
(You were the favorite one
the favorite son)
(I don't get it
I never thought I should
Stay away from you)
I’m part of the pale grey people
The pale grey sands
There's nothing to burn,
Nothing to light on - Track Name: Impossible Corners
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Hands, my unquiet hands
Now use to shake
Suspicious unfriendly fingers
I am living in my neighbours' bellies
Waiting behind an impossible
Face, wrong-sided face
Looks like a neck
Looks like a frightened haircut
Will someone understand how it turned inside out and Front-side back?
AND NOW
We nest in never-ending fear
A never-ending fall through hostile people
You probably close your gate and dig beneath your sheets
Listening to your new head grow
I look like things that never happened
Kind of things built in impossible corners
Though I was made for entertainment
I was made to heat your coldest rooms
****
I'm not afraid of what you are
I'm not selling my vows once you left
This tremendous band that played
My favorite mornings
And my growing islands
You threw your voice in the lake
You got fat, you got bald
You removed all your stuff, you burnt your pictures
You draw a sign on your appartment door
Some aliens would know how to read it
You just have to wait for them to detect your brain
Voices, Bad-tuned voices
Are now incessantly flowing from my throat
Buy me something to replace this sound
You will find me under your knee
Buy me something to feed
My upcoming winters
My narrow-minded times
I sound like things that never happened
I'm standing in some impossible corners
Now i'll learn how to melt away
Inside the well of your recollections - Track Name: Grande-Garabagne
-
I travelled uptown
I met a tired old friend
I took a walk with my mum
I talked with them about people we knew
I was thinking about thinking of you
I’ve always been an alien
In this neighbourhood
There’s something I haven’t understood
The way they speak - the way they silently hope
an endless week-end to die in
Days are sinking in the mud
I haven’t found the keys of the closets
In which they’ve hidden the reason why
You people frighten me
when you take care of your towns
You crowd of peaceful owners
You’re crouching beneath your lime-trees
Your children are playing with your suits
You won’t recall my name
I’m just a tired old son
That came and went without a sound
I let you clean up and brush up and iron your Sundays
I have to leave before the night
Days are sinking in the mud
I didn’t pay attention to the wilderness
That creeps inside your homes
Plastic flowers on your tables
Are going to fade and wither
And something is waiting to surge
