Anthony Joseph's first single OUT now !
Pre-order LP & CD : idol.lnk.to/An...
The Rich Are Only Defeated When Running For Their Lives • Out May 7th !
British-Trinidadian poet/musician/author Anthony Joseph’s latest album contains multitudes. Operating as a dedication to poetic ancestors and a coming together of musical generations, The Rich are Only Defeated When Running for their Lives is also an almighty jam. Recorded live last August, it shows off the prowess of a team of master musicians from Paris and London. Jason Yarde, who also produced Joseph’s 2018 album is credited as producer/composer/arranger - to startling, albeit intimate, effect.
Anthony Joseph : Vocals
Andrew John : Bass
Colin Webster : Tenor Saxophone
Denys Baptiste : Bass Clarinet
Jason Yarde : Alto, Baritone & Soprano Saxophones / Production - Arrangement
Crispin Robinson : Percussion
Florian Pellissier : Moog, Organ, Rhodes Piano
Rod Youngs : Drums
Thibaut Remy : Guitar/Composer
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LYRICS
Black and been here since 1949
West London jaw grind, ‘Tek it easy’
We saw him, you saw him
Walking along the canal last night
And what a joy to buck up upon him
At the carnival today
To hear him speak about
The dances and the bands
At the Paramount
The spots you couldn’t mix
With white in, or dance in
Remembering… London
How he been slapped so hard
With the lash - Sam Selvon say
And it take him 60 years
Before he could call England
‘Home’
He musta come here in black and white, 1959
Time longer than twine
So long ago he don’t
Remember being a child,
Just a suit and steamer trunk
Upon a ship which took
A good six weeks to cross
We sat at his kitchen table
And I filmed him on the fly
But he wasn’t saying much
At least nothing I could put in a poem
Instead he showed me
Photographs - with the dashiki and the fez
With Michael X at the Ambience
Outside the night came in
And he had moved so far away
From calling England
‘Home ’
I’ve lived here longer than home, since 1989
Remember Harlesden in the spring time
I used to walk from Cricklewood
To Marylebone High Street
To cut up meat to punch out dough
I was never asked to wait tables
Or to serve scones and coffee
I worked in the basement
But I learned to tie my apron
In a way that retained some dignity
And in my first summer above the corner shop
I listened to rare groove on pirate radio
I was flung so far from any notion of nation
How long do you have to live in a place
Before you can call it
‘Home?’
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27 авг 2024
