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Russian Dolls
Released: October 2006 10 original songs, none of them about Russia - or dolls ! - but all of them, I like to think, revealing their hidden depths the more you listen to them. « I can't say enough good about the album Russian Dolls. Well crafted songs and performance. Got me tuned in from the git go. Nice to hear new songs that are classics in my mind and have the form and style of Classical Music. The Lyrics fit like a Russian Doll. Also ole' Michel is good at finger picking. Plus a few surprises like that Hammond sound. Music with an important message in Russian Dolls.The balance is perfect. Never have to strain or guess the words. A real genuine Keeper! » - Roland Bowman on CDBaby.com « I have rarely heard an album that provides such a compelling combination of poetic and musical pleasures. The quality of his lyrics, the range of his vocal abilities, and the diversity of moods that his songs evoke make Michel Griffin one of the more accomplished musicians I have encountered in recent years. » - Don Palmer on CDBaby.com |
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August Morning
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Crystal-clear guitars herald the arrival of a new summer's day. The vocal is low and warm, and the smooth vocal harmonies are provided by Maryline Dumont.
Lyrics:
August morning, gently breaking through its shadows,
Shreds of mist still clothing cliffs and distant meadows,
And I love you in the morning,
As a new day coaxes birdsong from the trees
And I love you, and the laughter in your eyes that's all for me.
August morning, dawning pink and gold and certain,
The first faint breath of Summer tugging at our curtains,
And I love you in the morning,
As the sunlight gently rouses you from sleep,
And I love you, and the laughter in your eyes that's all for me.
August morning, gently breaking through its shadows,
Shreds of mist still clothing cliffs and distant meadows
And I love you in the morning,
As the sun explores the softness of your cheek
And I love you, and the laughter in your eyes that's all for me.
Copyright © M.J.C. Griffin [ASCAP]
PlayChildren of Circumstance
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Edgy, atmospheric, electric. A lonely man contemplates a past he cannot change: One of the more poignant tracks on the album.
Lyrics:
I think of you when the lights are low
Over the final drink and the late-night show;
One last drag on my cigarette:
The house feels empty as I head for bed.
Shouldering my loneliness into another dawn,
I sleep with your shadow, just beyond my arms:
You were too tender for this troubled world;
I was too timid to go for gold.
It's not only clowns who play the fool
But it's only the brave who confront the truth;
And while cowards may borrow a hero's stance
We are children, all, of circumstance.
I think of you under the starlit sky
As another summer slumbers by;
So many moons have waxed and waned
Over distances I still can't explain.
It's not only clowns who play the fool
But it's only the brave who confront the truth;
And while cowards may borrow a hero's stance
We are children, all, of circumstance.
Copyright © M.J.C. Griffin [ASCAP] PlayWhere the Story Starts
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This song was penned up on the hill behind my house in France, as the sun slipped over the horizon and the crickets began to still ... I was reflecting on my new-found roots.
Lyrics:
One by one, the crickets still; silent shadows are stealing up the hill;
Behind the house, the air is turning chill: Winter's coming in.
You & I, we've known the seasons,
Watched the blossom from the springtime slowly ripen into fruit
And through all kinds of season, it's here we're taking root,
Here we're taking root.
You see everything so clearly; and I am slow to learn,
But there's some pages in our history,
It seemed so hard to turn: no man's made of stone.
From up here you can see the wild geese fly
And that blood-orange of a sun, slipping down the sky;
The wind will be in our faces, by and by.
And for the first time in a long time,
The sound of summer laughter finds an echo in my heart;
For the first time in a long time, I'm where the story starts,
It's here the story starts.
Give me your hand now, Turn your face toward the sun
I understand, now: our story is just begun.
Caught in this fold of landscape
I look out at the river and the dusk that's coming in
My home is where your heart is, under this pale moon.
Copyright © M.J.C. Griffin [ASCAP] PlayWho Whips the Cream?
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The song has an almost Samba rhythm, with its delicate Spanish guitar accompaniment. I wrote the song after the breakup of my first marriage.
Lyrics:
Who whips the cream for your morning coffee?
Who shares your dreams? Who is combing your hair?
What makes you smile? Who is keeping you laughing?
Who shares your dreams, now that I'm not there?
Oh, there were times, before all the shouting,
You'd swell my heart, till I thought it would burst.
Yeah, there were times, on the side of the mountain
When you were the stream, and I was thirst.
The moment we met, one look and I knew
We'd be sharing each other before the night was through;
You were looking for love, I was offering shelter,
And that was enough: we paid passion her due.
Copyright © M.J.C. Griffin [ASCAP] And now I'm alone, with this guttering candle
Which is etching in smoke the ghost of your smile:
I'm left wondering how, at the turn of a handle,
The warmth of your kisses turned colder than guile. PlayRussian Dolls
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A song about the hypocrisy of power: plangent electric guitar and more lovely vocal harmonies by Maryline Dumont.
Lyrics:
There's blood upon the pavement, there's a scuffle on the ledge;
Sleek Mercedes prowl like sharks along the water's edge,
You can carry a gun or a lighted candle, box clever or box rough,
Violence doesn't need applause, indifference is enough.
Behind closed doors in Washington, in Geneva, or Milan
Shadowy figures chisel deals, as they have since Time began,
Seduction, purchase or discrete removal - they're all tricks of the same trade:
It's a trade that lines the pockets of those figures in the shade.
It's all a game of Russian dolls, every motive neatly sheathed;
Painted faces & frozen smiles cloak the daggers and the greed.
They do this for democracy, they're doing this in your name,
You can smile while they take their money, or you can smile while you take the blame.
You can throw a party or throw a bomb, cast a vote or cast a stone
If it makes you feel kinda helpless ??? don't worry, you're not alone.
It's all a game of Russian dolls ...
It's crime without passion. it's a system with fixed rules
You smile while you're seducing, or you smile while you're being fooled;
You can carry a gun or a lighted candle, box clever or box rough,
Violence doesn't need applause, indifference is enough.
It's all a game of Russian dolls ...
Copyright © M.J.C. Griffin [ASCAP] PlayThat Laughter of Conchita's
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The portrait of a liberated spirit who left me with an indelible memory of her laughter and her easy ways.
Lyrics:
Some days her eyes were violet, some days the darkest brown
She dressed just like a gypsy, from the raggedy part of town;
Conchita's ways were easy, I never saw a jealous frown,
In her diamond gaze I'd stumble, but in her laughter I would drown.
We'd meet for moments stolen from the clutter of our lives,
I'd hold her body close to mine, and stare into those eyes;
We'd laugh, we'd love, and then we'd leave for different parts of town
In her crystal gaze I'd learn to swim: but in her laughter, I would drown.
In the hazy middle-distance between the known and the unseen
Hovers in uncertainty the ghost of what might have been;
And though I try to face each dawn without a backward glance, it seems
That that laughter of Conchita's echoes in my dreams.
When I close my eyes I can feel her there, my hands on her slender hips
Planting half-remembered kisses on those dusky upturned lips;
The scent of incense in her hair, the rustle of her silken gown
In her limpid gaze I'd simply melt, but in her laughter, I would drown.
In the hazy middle-distance between the known and the unseen
Hovers in uncertainty the ghost of what might have been;
And though I try to face each dawn without a backward glance, it seems
That that laughter of Conchita's will always echo in my dreams.
Copyright © M.J.C. Griffin [ASCAP] PlayThe Poet's Smile
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'The Poet's Smile' speaks of someone who was so concerned with his image that he lost his true self. The sparest song on the album, it came out in the studio in a single take, with Michel accompanying his poignant lyrics with some simple guitar- picking.
Lyrics:
How long can you go on, holding that pose?
Feeding on dreams of how others must see you:
The poet in his garret, looking for a soul-mate,
You 're living on trust you know; nobody needs you.
You chain-smoke by compulsion of the image you 've perfected,
Your poems are inflected in the proper style;
But the projector is empty; you forgot to put in the slide -
The whole world is waiting to see the poet smile.
With one eye on the camera, and one on the projectionist,
You know your whole history is a pack of half-truths
What will they find, when they tear down your façade
Sometimes you say you lose yourself,
But I wonder if you still have that to lose.
Copyright © M.J.C. Griffin [ASCAP] PlayStrangers Once Again
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You go on vacation. You meet the love of your life. You return home. And arrange to meet up. But somehow, away from the beach and the rolling surf, the glinting, lilting moonlight, the magic's gone. And you realise that you've just become 'Strangers Once Again'. Fabulous guitar solo by Jean-Paul Piquard.
Lyrics:
All summer long, we'd dance together, cheek to cheek;
All summer long, I'd leave you late - you 'd leave me weak;
All summer long, the sun it chased away the rain,
But now it's autumn, and we 're strangers once again.
All summer long, we'd walk together, hand in hand;
Beside the sea, we left our footprints in the sand;
But now the winds of time have blown away every trace -
That wind is rising, and we 're strangers once again.
I don't know how, I don't know why
Each shy 'Hullo ' became 'Goodbye ';
I didn't see, I can't say when the moment came that made us
Strangers once again.
Je n'sais pas bien, je comprends pas
Ce qui a pu nous séparer;
Et je n'ai pas vu arriver
Ce qui a r'fait de nous des étrangers.
Copyright © M.J.C. Griffin [ASCAP] PlayWalking the Web
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'Time is coming, not so far away, there'll be a Blackberry implant in every brain ...' and we'll all be 'Walking the Web'. A catchy little number, with a Django Reinhardt feel to it.
Lyrics:
I may be lonely, but I'm never alone, I keep your photo in my cell-phone
I got your podcast in my ears, even when I'm on the move,
Don't need no souped-up flat-top, I've got my laptop-
I got all I need to google to you,
To go walking the web, walking the web -
That's where you can find me, here in cyber-space,
Where every place is just a click away.
Time is coming, not so far away
There'll be a Blackberry implant in every brain
No more need for mail or text,
We'll simply stream our thoughts broadband;
From talking while walking
We'll be blogging while jogging ...
See you see me - see Blackberry jam!
When we're walking the web, walking the web ...
Time was, in another age, travelling was all the rage
Had to climb the mountain to see the view, cross a country to view the sea;
But I've been virtually everywhere, never had to leave my rocking chair
Didn't have no wear or tear, with my laptop on my lap:
I went walking the web, walking the web ...
Copyright © M.J.C. Griffin [ASCAP] PlayTrue Love
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A rhythmic paean to 'True Love', featuring the vocal talents of Maryline Dumont. 'True love's forever, or that's how it seems ...'
Lyrics:
True love don't take no prisoners
True love don't carry no chains
True love don't stake no claims, no:
True love falls like the summer rain.
True love don't ask no questions
True love don't tell no lies
True love don't have no doubts, no:
True love is certain, like an arrow in flight.
True love is a whole new universe
True love is an open book
True love is that wave of tenderness
You roll through me with just one look.
True love don't raise its voice, no
True love don't change its tune
True love don't follow no fashion
True love is solid, like the rocks on the moon.
True love's forever, or that's how it seems
Three parts adrenalin to one part dreams;
True love is confidence, true love is true;
True love is jumping with no parachute.
True love's forever, or that's how it seems ...
Copyright © M.J.C. Griffin [ASCAP] Play
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