Righteous Maelstrom

by Jazz Trance

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Recorded at Farthing Attic


released May 10, 2015

Mel Gough and Simon Cleary



all rights reserved


Jazz Trance London, UK

Jazz Trance were formed in 2004 in New Cross by Mel Gough and Simon Cleary at Goldsmiths College over a shared love of Throbbing Gristle and other intense sounds.

Their work is fully improvised - trusted to the moment.

Over the years their chaotic and confrontational live presence and recorded material has become more at peace with itself, slowly discovering the sweetness behind the strong.
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Track Name: Brainwasher
Don't you wanna be caught?
Have a brainwash today
October gives way to Christmas
But it gets in the way
It was a very good month last week
But it gets in the way
Take what you want
Don't wanna be caught
Have a brainwash today
What gets in the way
Your mirrors are dissolving today
The last - three weeks -
Were the great month of February
What is it you are scared of?
Being found out
Track Name: The Writer and The Neighbours
Neighbour downstairs with one eye
Co-habs with a mass of blonde curls

Neighbour downstairs with one eye
Co-habs with a mass of blonde curls

My moving fast is mad
Mind moving slow is sane
It's granpathy wears a two eyes
Man's a peculiar tan
He sports the maroon flares

Mind moving slow is sane
Mind moving fast is mad
Mind left stopped he's got

Writer in bed insane
Clutches pen in hand
The scrawl he wrote

Neighbour downstairs with one eye
Co-habs with a mass of blonde curls
Her shadow face


Writer in bed insane
Clutches pen in hand
The scrawl he wrote
Well read it here:

About the one with blonde curls
Their babe cries through the night
And there's no bulbs in this house
Falls down the stairs on a hook
Chips the paint and his tooth
And disappears through the red door
Rolls on down the road
To the canal
By the canal

Walks to the moon
Sees the place where he was
Where he waits
And read
And wrote
Track Name: Bug Day
Midges hovered
Over the heather
Heat haze
Its nice weather

Midges hovered
Over the heather
Bugs fly
Its nice weather

Midges hover
Over heather
Carrots fly
In your mind

Parked up
The top of the hill
Parked up
And have
Those pills

'Cause anything's better
Than Bug Day

'Cause anything's better
Than Bug Day

Lavender burgers
And a yard of ale

Don't let the roses fail

Don't let the roses fail
Track Name: Autorun

>I wonder if there is anyone in the library –

>look there is an Oasis tribute at the –

>that bus goes to Stokie quite handy I’ll have to get that someday –

>war march on next week I won’t be going to –

>Jesus she is choice how are there so many –

>lift at third floor so stairs here that door is heavy it’s like a factory here that concrete like a club keep left greasy handrail hear steps down hope they keep left my rule but like it is logical in England –

>my god she is so beautiful that jacket within it her that hair that falls aside from within that hood my god my heart is fast –

>so so hot here –

>she is going to look at me arrange face into smile or something not this stand up straight suck in gut look at her but not too hard her beautiful hand is on the rail and she is sliding towards me and her hood angles up the green cave that contains everything so shining and bright and life itself dwells there she opens her mouth and speaks to me –





>Dear god say something why has she spoken to me do not miss this chance in life you get given chances know them take them I love her I love her I love her –

“You’re Lucy’s friend aren’t you?” her voice suggests concepts, atmospheres, more than words. I drink it down.

“Yes, yes, she’s in my halls, does Psychology with me too!”

“Ah, OK.”

“What are you-”

“Are you going-”



“Are you going to her birthday party tonight?”

>what party hell yeah I’m going –

“Yes, can’t wait – see you there?”

“Yes. Bye.”

>fucking hell get in get in this is the best day –

>what am I even in here for –

>jump up those stairs hup hup hup whoa too far that time don’t fall don’t hurt yourself shin splitting and blood and oh here’s the floor go in there calm yourself down no go out it’s a beautiful day my god this is it I can’t believe it I love her

>what is her name

Track Name: Struppi
Life is long and its tremendous
So get some apple juice and drink it down
And sew gold buttons on your sleeve
And stroke somebody on the knee
And get down on your knees
And shout out
Your exclamation mark

And be careful to discard bottle tops correctly
Because a little dog might step on one
And hurt its delicate paw
Track Name: Alveoli
Breathing in, then out, that’s how it all starts. The day, the life, the test, the speech. The difficult things you have to say. It supplies oxygen to the alveoli, the blood, the little cells in the brain that get bathed in the fluid. It helps them get through too.

Have you ever sat there staring out of the window, wondering if you could jump through it, break out, run away? Little trees in the distance growing bigger, then their leafy arms enfold you and you are out the other side, the void of the field and sky, the smile broadening on your face, the phone ringing into a ditch with a splish!

Turning around, still staggering backwards, you look at what you are leaving behind. Look, there’s the roof of Tesco. The roar of the motorway. The termite-like structures built in the sixties, little people scurrying around to nowhere. The bookies – that horrible pub – the street – a car splashes them – their house. Same as all the others.

Turn away, leave those streets you’ve walked so many times before. I remember the times I used to walk around the industrial estate, face hidden within the Gore-Tex hood, rain splashing down and trickling from its rim, occasional sips of Red Bull to power the visons in my head – Sarah, and me, married. Sarah, and me, holding hands, Sarah, and me, in love. Sarah, there, when I got in. from the cold. But no, she would not be there, so I went around the block another time, listened to Radiohead’s “Street Spirit” again.

Rows of houses / Are bearing down on me / I can feel their / Blue hands touching me

So I’ll miss it. A bit. But what I can’t stand is it missing me. All the people in there – some of them know me and some of them like me. How can I cut myself away from them? Well, this is what I need to do today. By the end of the day today, I want there to be not one person who will want me here. Only then will I feel like all the thin wires an threads that bind me to others have been severed, and I will be free, like the balloons you sometimes see rising rapidly, waving their string erratically and dancing into the stratosphere.
Track Name: Fireworks/Light
Cold, you can't control
Cold, you can't control

Light up a cigarette, cos it might be your last

Fireworks, darkness
Cascading with fireworks.
Fireworks, can't read it
Fireworks, can't fathom it
Coming up to the dawn here
What are those burnt embers
It's fireworks, smouldering
It's fireworks
Cascading in the sky at,
From 8 till 5 the morning
Fear cracked
Fear cracked
Splitting Chinese sky open
Chinese sky at night
Exploding trees at night
Over rivers and bridges
Fear craft
Track Name: Watermarked
I would do anything for you, I love you, and all you do and say, the ways you live your life, the moves you make, everything, right from compartment lunchboxes to leather chairs, pictures of girls and joints of ham, walks in rain and tending little gardens. I so want to see you happy, to see you at peace with it all, to be free and content. I wish I could have been a part of that, but different paths have been taken. I have found some of that where I am now. It’s never perfect, but there are glimpses. I skipped down a hill outside Guildford in the sun last week, the first good day, Belle & Sebastian singing in my ears, and, for about 10 seconds I felt as if I were held, that all would be alright, forever. Then it fades. But I now know that that is there, that we can access it, sometimes, when our mind is just right and the world is smiling.