Sports Stories For Boys

by Jon Horne's Mild Peril

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Unique lathe-cut 7" dubplate of see-through polycarbonate (in a pristine state - it won't deteriorate like acetate).

    The £5 quoted below is for the hours I'll have to spend queuing at Whitby post office. Ask me nicely when I've got my guitar case and you can have one for nothing.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Sports Stories For Boys via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days
    edition of 20 

      £5 GBP or more 

     

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02:36

about

Recorded straight to mono, at the Tea Garden, Ruswarp, 12th May 2014. Downloads of both tracks (and a sneaky bonus one) available ONLY to those who have bought/stolen/borrowed the record.

credits

released July 29, 2014

Jon Horne (male vocal with guitar accompaniment)

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all rights reserved

about

Jon Horne's Mild Peril Whitby, UK

Keepin' it largely fictional in the pubs and Pavilions of Whitby since 2004. Vocal, guitar, noisy songs with stories and tunes.

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Contact Jon Horne's Mild Peril

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Track Name: Lance Armstrong
Ask me how I’m feeling
I’m freewheeling
Where I come from, we don’t know how to lose
Call it a seventh sense
measured in dollars and cents
If you don’t like it, read the name on the soles of my shoes

The gun goes off in my head
It’s the sound I dread
The leader or the led? All eyes are on me
Time to go out in style
To ride one last trial
Ninety seven miles to the Champs Elysées

Hurt lasts a minute, a day, a year of pain
Losing lasts until you win again

Who can ever know
What makes a good man throw
Everything aside for the sake of winning?
Still the darkness grows
Through my skin and bones
I’m a man more sinned against than sinning

What’s turning these wheels
Blood sweat and steel
A heart that cannot feel itself pumping
It’s nothing if not real,
The pedal and the wheel
Ask me how I feel, I feel nothing

Cover yourself in glory and it’s never enough
When you’ve made the money, you can do it for love
Track Name: Jack London
Jack London (1913-1964)

The spindle goes around
A linen sheet hangs down from the wall
He opens his mouth
But doesn't make a sound at all
Focus on the challenger, cut to the crowd
Back to the ring, microphone drops down
Touch of the gloves, stand face-to-face
The picture wavers, stalls and shakes
He waves his fist at us, and walks away

Her cigarette burns down
She waits outside the chapel in the rain
It's taking too long
But she keeps them all waiting just the same
Stops to remember a day long gone by
She takes a deep breath, then steps inside
He's still in uniform, she's dressed in white
If you do something, then do it right
The war is over, now it's time to fight

The boys over here were too easy to beat
Too straight with the left, too slow with the feet
Knock them down and be sure to retreat
To a neutral corner

She thanks you for your time
And shuts the door behind you as you leave
You can worry all you like
But she's not the one who's crying, actually
Everyone's waiting to shake your hand
And talk about the time they saw your old man
Down the gym or at the Albert Hall
You know he wouldn't be impressed at all
He'd say: “You see one bloody fight, you've seen them all.”

The boys over here were too easy to beat
Too straight with the left, too slow with the feet
Knock them down and be sure to retreat
To a neutral corner