[band links down there]
Knowledge And Conversation - Dead Sea Apes
Jolly Jolly Good - The Mobbs
Ex-Army - Boys Boys Boys
Tears Apart - Letters to Fiesta
Drip Effect - The Girobabies
Double-Barrel Shotgun - The Jury
Without God - Modern Skins
I Knew It - Silverclub
Roads - Portishead
Tear Us Apart - The Kino Club (Feat. Kermit & Julie E Gordon)
Flat Feet - Royal Chant
Cedar Room - Doves
Champagne And Cocaine - 12 Dirty Bullets
Doves - The Black Angels
16 Again - Them Sharks
Don't Drift - The Orielles
Tokuta - Jungle Fire
Life Goes On - Heather Brookes
Heart Of Gold - Puressence
Once A Mighty Oak - James M Carson
by John Crowe Ransom
The friar had said his paternosters duly
And scourged his limbs, and afterwards would have slept;
But with much riddling his head became unruly,
He arose, from the quiet monastery he crept.
Dawn lightened the place where the battle had been won.
The people were dead -- it is easy he thought to die --
These dead remained, but the living were all gone,
Gone with the wailing trumps of victory.
The dead men wore no raiment against the air,
Bartholomew's men had spoiled them where they fell;
In defeat the heroes' bodies were whitely bare,
The field was white like meads of asphodel.
Not all were white; some gory and fabulous
Whom the sword had pierced and then the grey wolf eaten;
But the brother reasoned that heroes' flesh was thus.
Flesh fails, and the postured bones lie weather-beaten.
The lords of chivalry lay prone and shattered.
The gentle and the bodyguard of yeomen;
Bartholomew's stroke went home -- but little it mattered,
Bartholomew went to be stricken of other foemen.
Beneath the blue ogive of the firmament
Was a dead warrior, clutching whose mighty knees
Was a leman, who with her flame had warmed his tent,
For him enduring all men's pleasantries.
Close by the sable stream that purged the plain
Lay the white stallion and his rider thrown,
The great beast had spilled there his little brain,
And the little groin of the knight was spilled by a stone.
The youth possessed him then of a crooked blade
Deep in the belly of a lugubrious wight;
He fingered it well, and it was cunningly made;
But strange apparatus was if for a Carmelite.
Then he sat upon a hill and bowed his head
As under a riddle, and in deep surmise
So still that he likened himself unto those dead
Whom the kites of Heaven solicited with sweet cries.