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The Amber of Memory

by 200 lurkers

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Silom 05:30
every song i write sounds the same to you | and every kiss i try tastes like rain to you | every move i make is caught in a cage of light from you | and i don't have the strength to fight for you | when we walked home from silom road | the fear of rats and roaches made you hold my hand | the fear of rats and roaches... and nothing else.
Wrong Tracks 05:02
sadly i was standing on the wrong tracks the train mowed down my friend instead | i didn't see it coming | no one saw it coming | in no shape to be buried | we stuffed what was left in the case of his guitar | we put it in the attic | it's still waiting in the attic | sadly i was missing out to make tracks i ended up like this instead: | a second rate songwriter | replacing gift by gimmicks | i can't help but wonder what the late st. rob would have done with this machine | nothing short of magic | phaserloopshitmagic | the god that crushes us is not the one we used to serve | it seems there's hardly enough skin to cover all our aching nerves | sadly i was sending in the wrong tracks they signed another band instead | the songs that wake us up are not the ones we used to write | it seems that you are caught by melodies that keep you tied here halfway between heaven and my memory...
The Ships 05:53
send me the ships, old friend | the boats that you promised to send | drawn by your very own hand | alight with fire and flame, sparkling in red and in blue | send me the ships that you drew | the first time i laid eyes on you | in a crowded central station | in the shadow of an angel | whose flightless wings spread and covered | it was too dark to see me blush, too loud to hear me stutter | where is the fleet, my dear? | the one that you swore was so near | i persist through each night | and strain my eyes beyond sight i lose hope that they'll ever be here | where is the fleet my dear? | the last time i laid eyes on you | in a noisy foreign airport | by the demon with his jeweled sword | whose gilded crown shone and glistened | when you answered 'i do not' i did not really listen | where are the ships, my love? | the boats that you promised to carve | made of the wood from the Ark | i'd send them faster than thought up the river that passes his home | how else will i make myself known? | 'i left the trees where they stood | to be quite honest i wouldn't waste the wood | to burn my boats on a distant shore | to call out to someone who hears no more...' |
gold as the honey she sent me | in the jar i can't open | that sits on the shelf | it captures the incautious sunlight | shimmers like amber and never goes off | sweeter than all foreign candy | that comes in bright wrappers | gets stuck in the sheets | bright as the fifth in your anthem | the spark that ignites me | the stars in your flag | lightning flowers start to ebow my heart | calm as the lopsided center | of the storm that surrounds you | wild currents and clouds | lightning flowers start to ebow my heart


Our current 'work in progress'. Tracks for this album will be released throughout the year.

"... no man ever forgot the visitations of that power to his heart and brain, which created all things new; which was the dawn in him of music, poetry, and art; which made the face of nature radiant with purple light, the morning and the night varied enchantments; when a single tone of one voice could make the heart bound, and the most trivial circumstance associated with one form is put in the amber of memory; when he became all eye when one was present, and all memory when one was gone..." (Ralph Waldo Emerson: "Love")


released December 5, 2015


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200 lurkers Cologne, Germany

Two friends, two continents, a series of happy accidents. What once began as an exchange of letters morphed into a collaborative process of crafting songs from opposite sides of the Atlantic. The resulting catalog reflects the patina of many rounds of revision and accumulation. 200 Lurkers blends two distinct musical aesthetics into songs that feature glimmering moments and makeshift voices. ... more

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