Recorded At Rocker's: Beau

by Beau

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    Includes immediate download of pdf file containing artwork, photo, full lyrics, and commentary on the tracks by Beau; plus mp4 videos of 'In The Court Of Conscience' and 'Reflections', filmed live during the recording of the session at StAR Studios.
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Local Underground presents: Recorded At Rocker's

A series of sessions recorded at Rocker's StAR Studios in Bristol, for his show on Dandelion Radio - The online radio station inspired by John Peel.

Sessions normally comprise between 3 and 6 tracks, and will be made available as 'name your price' downloads, with a minimum price of £2. All proceeds will go towards the ongoing running costs of Dandelion Radio.


released November 3, 2014

RAR004 - Beau

Recorded: July 24th 2014 @ StAR Studios

Broadcast: in Rocker's Dandelion Radio show for October 2014, commemorating the tenth anniversary of John Peel's passing.


Beau: Vocals, 12-String Guitar.

"These six songs are not simply re-recordings of the originals, but are re-workings for voice & twelve-string guitar of tunes that have only previously been heard in a “band” context.
None have ever been performed live; until now…" Beau

All songs © C J T Midgley


all rights reserved



Local Underground Bristol, UK

Eclectic music label based in Bristol, UK. Specialising in short run limited editions that nevertheless shift very few copies. Local Underground is Rocker's baby, baby.

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Track Name: The Night Before Trafalgar
The mist came upon us (the Captain reported),
From seemingly nowhere, like out of the sea.
The helm was unsteady, though hard she was blowing.
The watch sent below and reported to me, oh yes.

The cook sent the lad from the galley informing
The fires had died and the ovens were cold.
The lookout atop of the mainmast was silent,
Reporting of nothing for him to behold, oh yes.

’Twas here Mr Kerry, the Mate, then reported
“Sir, half-a-cable directly ahead!
’Tis surely a frigate that slowly approaches.
A strange sight indeed, Sir,” the Lieutenant said, oh yes.

And yes, she was strange as she came down upon us,
The Fires of St. Elmo so freely bestowed
Did sweep through her sails and dance in her rigging.
It seemed that her powder must surely explode, oh yes.

“Hard over port on the helm!” I commanded.
“Hard over port, Sir!” the helmsman replied.
And as he reported “The wheel will not answer!”
Then onto my quarter the frigate did glide, oh yes.

Her Captain stood, his eyes on fire,
And turning, he spoke as she passed by my rail.
“Remember this sight that you see, Thomas Andrews.
Remember this sight, or your mission will fail!” oh yes.

And there as she passed, the fog began sinking
And with sails burned to ash and with nothing to save,
Her name being obscured by the heat of the flames,
Like a wisp in the mist she then sank to her grave, oh yes.

This then is account for your Lordship’s attention
Of that which occurred and of which I did see,
As I must report with a truth I’m believing
My Lords, it was Nelson who spoke unto me, oh yes.

Your Obedient Servant,
Thomas Andrews, oh yes.
Track Name: The Mirror
The mirror never lies throughout your youth,
Though perhaps it might exaggerate the truth.
The mirror never jokes about the news
When asked about the face that it reviews.
But if it shows up signs it traces in the lines
What more are you entitled to?
If you are wise there will be no surprise.
When you are young, the mirror never lies.

The mirror never cheats, it guarantees;
Rejecting all responsibilities.
The mirror never twists and never bends.
It shows you almost all that it intends.
And sometimes, it is hard; it takes you off your guard.
You can’t select what to reject.
The sick defeats and sad retreats
And guarantees the mirror never cheats.

The mirror never hates or is unfair;
It freezes for you only what is there.
The mirror never smiles to ease your mind.
It never knew the meaning of unkind.
And sometimes in the night, stood blinking in the light,
You are shown something unknown.
Whatever waits, it all relates
And it’s unfair the mirror never hates.

And sometimes in the night, stood blinking in the light,
You are shown something unknown.
Whatever waits, it all relates
And it’s unfair the mirror never hates.
Track Name: Filters
Strange how much becomes unclear,
How little can be realised
When that which we all rightly fear
Is first examined and revised
And neatly sanitized.

Strange how little filters past
The deep desiring to cleanse;
The straining out from first to last,
The poison from the pens,
The violence from the lens.

Stranger how restraint is urged
Where such has never ever been;
Where smell and hell are deftly purged
Before they reach the screen –
The filters come between.

Strange the image that I dreamed,
Too fearful ever to confide;
Unsifted and unclean it seemed,
And so unpurified.
I was terrified,
I almost died…

Strange how much becomes unclear,
How little can be realised
When that which we all rightly fear
Is first examined and revised…
First examined and revised…
First examined and revised
And neatly sanitized.
Track Name: Flowers Of The Sea
Oh, the cries that you hear are the signals of pain,
And the broken remains of a Cherokee plane
Lie shivering out in the cold mountain rain
And no one appears to be hearing.
The radio crackles with pure white noise
And the bears dance around the clearing:
Dancing around the Flowers of the Sea.

Such a dangerous scent is the perfume of hate
That infiltrates down through the chancery gate
And wafts through the window a moment too late
For anyone there to prevent it.
For such is politeness – frustrated and kind –
Even though it may resent it
When perfumed like the Flowers of the Sea.

U38 slipped through the blockade
With the one mistake that the cruiser made.
And the voice-tube crew was unafraid,
And so was Kapitän Liebig.
And then a depth charge carried his stern away –
“Auf Wiedersehen, Achtunddreißig!” –
For you were only Flowers of the Sea.

The Welsh medallion dangled and hung.
Its crimson dragon in the mid-day sun
Was sweating the way its mother had done
(And she had been a Merino!).
She came to rest upon a Guardsman’s chest
Underneath the trees so green-o –
Another tender Flower of the Sea.

All the light that comes from the spotlight’s beam
Is sometimes so diffuse it seems
To waste the time of the air it cleans –
If indeed it cares a beanpole!
Why cannot light be laser-bright?
And the moon is but a keyhole
Peering at the Flowers of the Sea.

All the wild mosaic in Pharaoh’s tomb
Kissed the economic boom
And placed a crown on he for whom
The broken stones were scattered.
For Pharaoh was a man who could
Admit to being flattered,
Commanding all the Flowers of the Sea.

John was a white and honest man –
At least, he was when this began –
But then Mahomet’s greatest fan
Turned him into a heathen.
His car became a mobile tomb
And now the odds are even.
And John has joined the Flowers of the Sea.

All the moths awoke and saw the sun,
And with a rush they rose as one,
But with no power to stop them come
The sun turned tail in terror.
But still some light is left to see
Up on the High Sierra
Where still are growing Flowers of the Sea.
Track Name: In The Court Of Conscience
With the cold eye of a soldier and
The cold hand of a surgeon and
The cold and calculating mind of
Someone from Intelligence,
I walk along the city street
Assassinating all I meet;
My crumpled uniform, once neat,
Is now in disarray.

Breezes blow my hair at will,
Their wayward passage to fulfil
But they can never pierce the heart
And kill the way a deftly wielded
Knife, or yet a sharpened barb,
Well turned and twisted can succeed;
For words will never make you bleed
But only fade away.

I found this weakness in the heart;
Remorselessly tore it apart,
But that was when my uniform
Was smart and pretty in the glittering springlight;
When my words so clear
Fell, curdling the bitter beer,
And dripped into the waiting ear
’Til silence ruled that day.

And when the slaughter was complete,
Another fool had found defeat
And still my hands were soft and
Even sweet inside the glove that played
The drumsticks on the soft and kind.
It took a military mind
To sentence silence as the blind
Went tapping on their way.

With the cold eye of a soldier…
With the cold eye of a soldier…
Track Name: Reflections
My life advances, youth to age;
To elder sage, and to despise
The children sitting at my feet
Who nod their heads and patronise,
And listen to my tales of life
That they were taught in school.

The vision of an older man
Long since began to hinder me,
As through the fog of failing sight
I stumbled; and then suddenly
A lens to aid my ageing eyes
And again, I’m twenty-one…

The bloody river’s running strong,
The River Somme, the glory bought
By sacrificing hopeful lives –
The cannon fodder. Sharp and short
Was death upon the poppy fields
That ever after grew.

And I shouted, “Stop the pounding guns.
The river runs, and I am dead!”
But Haig commanded, “Battle on!”
And with bullets whistling round my head,
At the age of only twenty-one
I also cried for peace.

At the age of only twenty-one
I also cried for peace.