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Can't Sing The Blues Like Johnson (EPs, Singles & Demos 2018​-​2020)

by Wolves In Alcatraz

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    CD release of this 14 track compilation album of early demo recordings, cover versions, EP tracks and singles.
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1.
Bruises 05:01
Words have hurt him like the rocks they've thrown, He takes his pain to play alone. He chalks hangmen on the paving stones, And gives them names of the kids he knows. Shows his fears in monochrome, Draws his own Rosetta Stone, Spells it out to make it known, That he'll beat them when he's grown. For now, he'll hide here on his own, Safer here than going home. Hey kid! You're not yourself. Liberate you from this hell. Shout... and scream... and yell, And show your bruises colours. Hides beneath his bed at night, Fears the dark, flicks on the light, Downstairs something it ain't right, He listens to his parents fight. Sounds of hatred and words of spite, At least it's not his fault tonight. He's going to run... Far out of sight, But not today, Not yet, Not quite. Hides his face and he clutches tight, As he prays that it will be alright. Hey kid! You're not yourself. Liberate you from this hell. Shout... and scream... and yell, And show your bruises colours. One day he'll leave them to their game, Leave this town and change his name, As he fades in their picture frames, He's going to hate them all the same. Hey man! Here comes your day, To leave the blues and get away. Your demons fade to grey, And hide your bruises colours.
2.
Journeys that we make just to forget, Gone like smoke from your cheap cigarette. How familiar can old stories get? Pull your seat close, I ain't even started yet. Raised in muddy water. Purify me. Hallelujah. Hands are in the fire. Take me higher. Cry hallelujah. At the crossroads I made my exchange, Nothing new or crazy, weird or strange. Closed the chapter, opened my new page, There's no science, just the need to make a change. Raised in muddy water. Purify me. Hallelujah. Hands are in the fire. Take me higher. Cry hallelujah. Cleaned my shelf and found a new beginning. Changed my face and changed my name. Cleared my pockets just to show I'm winning. Found new ways to play old games. Burned my hands to prove it isn't hurting. Hold my doors and hide my fears. Bless my soul, so far I think it's working. I moved from mud to open seas. Raised in muddy water. Purify me. Hallelujah. Hands are in the fire. Take me higher. Cry hallelujah. Raised in muddy water. Purify me. Hallelujah. Hands are in the fire. Take me higher. Cry hallelujah.
3.
Can't play the blues like Johnson, Or sing like B.B. does. I'm less Deep South, more Wisconsin, But my struggle is real, because... Outside my porch it ain't rainin', And my dog, she's still alive, The time that I was born in was under no bad sign. My baby didn't leave me, The sky above don't cry, And my broom, it don't need cleanin' Please inspire me Buddy Guy. Went down to the crossroads, And the lights just made me blind. That smokestack lightnin' is some where, It's somewhere I can't find. ...And I ain't no hoochie-coochie man, I ain't got no mojo hand. I can't play the blues like Johnson, Or sing like B.B does. Where do I go for inspiration? Muddy help me please! Hopped on down to the railroad station, But I was asked to leave. The road life takes me ain't too hard on my shoes, And I ain't struggled for, or cried none. To confess, I sing those blues. Went down to the crossroads, And the lights just made me blind. That smokestack lightnin' is some where, It's somewhere I can't find. ...And I ain't no hoochie-coochie man, I ain't got no mojo hand. I can't play the blues like Johnson, Or sing like B.B does. Went down to the crossroads, And the lights just made me blind. That smokestack lightnin' is some where, It's somewhere I can't find. ...And I ain't no hoochie-coochie man, I ain't got no mojo hand. I can't play the blues like Johnson, Or sing like B.B does.
4.
Recession. Depression. Desolate, with few possessions. Rejection. Deflection. Please may I get your attention? Oppression. Misconception. Every day, an object lesson. Don't mention discretion. Hey man! I have a question. If you turn away to greet me, Roll your eyes to see me, Face down to the ground and walk away. What's it like to be me? Mister, can you hear me? Thank you anyway. I'm breathing. Heart beating. Your fellow human being. All seeing. All hearing. Can't tell you how I'm feeling. Not preaching. It's freezing. Stand up and help the kneeling. I'm bleeding. You're leaving. I guess you have your reasons. If you turn away to greet me, Roll your eyes to see me, Face down to the ground and walk away. What's it like to be me? Hey! can you hear me? Thank you anyway. If you hide your ears to listen, Shrug and keep your distance, Maybe I'm not here, just walk away. They want to keep me hidden. No walls around this prison. For you and I, it's groundhog day. Turn away to greet us, Close your eyes to see us, Face down to the ground and walk away. What's it like to be us? Mister, can you hear us? Thank you anyway.
5.
Dead leaves and dust at my feet, Forsaken smiles in the street, A lifeless town where the minstrels perform for pennies, Their songs of hope incomplete. Nearby, the old ladies meet to hum along and agree. Men share their stories and scars down at The Oddfellow's Arms, Tales of days gone by when pride was free and work was plenty. Old fingers yellowed with tar dig deep in old penny jars. Drink to forget where they are. Dead spaces. Crippled communities. Wallets light. Belts ever tighter. Dark places forged by austerity, Camouflaged in shades of grey, for here there is no colour brighter. Youth congregating in vain, the poster boys for disdain, Who speak like yardbirds to each other's mild indifference. Through urban language they claim their misdemeanours, profane, With no arrests to their names. The homeless sleep on the floors in bankrupt businessmen's doors, And pray for charity and grace that isn't coming. It wasn't this way before the independent got poor. Their lifestyle may soon be yours. Dead spaces. Crippled communities. Wallets light. Belts ever tighter. Dark places forged by austerity, Camouflaged in shades of grey, for here there is no colour brighter. Dead spaces. Crippled communities. Here there are no colours brighter. Dark places forged by austerity, Camouflaged in shades of grey. In power and ignorant bliss, From ivory towers dismissed. Just pigs in troughs with no cares, fears or obligations. I walk the concrete abyss, Skip cracks in pavements and wish for some day better than this. Dead spaces. Crippled communities. Wallets light. Belts ever tighter. Dark places forged by austerity, Camouflaged in shades of grey, for here there are no colours bright.
6.
Front page headlines, bold and black. Fears and smears, there to attack, The ones who have the guts they lack. Read them slowly, spit them back. Is this all there is? The words you misconceive. Is this all there is? The bullshit that you believe. Is this all there is? Your photocopied point of view, Broken, biased and untrue, Derivative of those like you, Who fling their shit like monkeys do. Is this all there is? The words you misconceive. Is this all there is? The bullshit that you believe. Is this all there is? Go back to the part where your lines blurred. I pretended to listen but by attention deferred, You know you're all hot air and no real words? If you were in two minds you'd still finish third. Is this all there is? The words you misconceive. Is this all there is? The bullshit that you believe. Is this all there is? Life is more than this.
7.
It don't matter how they win, just as long as they win it. It's not the lie you believe, it's what you hear when they spin it. We'd be out of this hole if you'd thought for just a minute, Through your blue clown's shoe with a bullet hole in it. It's a paradox of Socrates, That "No-one does wrong knowingly". Your pencilled cross gave up the keys, To sell me out, and those like me. To bring in an autocracy, And infect our lives with a blue disease. Now we're fighting through days like these, With broken hands and bandaged knees. Poverty, and homeless rates, and division of the classes. Systematic underfunding, and still you sharp suits pay no taxes. Still, you've chosen where you dance, it just depends how green your grass is, And you'll tango through the streets whilst you burn down your own houses. Twisting knives through shattered lives, their rhetoric creates this. Sliding doors give open floors to institutional racists. Spit the poison to the wind, my friend I'm afraid it's... ...Your vote that gave the power to the spiteful and the hated. Disparity brings charity for the weakened and diminished. Hope has died, but still supplies the foodbank in your village. Don't close your ears or hide your eyes, my lesson isn't finished... ...Does morbid lust for sorrow make you proud that you are British?! It's a paradox of Socrates, That "No-one does wrong knowingly". Your pencilled cross gave up the keys, To sell me out, and those like me. To bring in an autocracy, And infect our lives with a blue disease. Now we're fighting through days like these. 'We're all in this together."
8.
Pain, wash away, And come again some other day. My guilt has built this hell around me. I’m sick and tired, Of living on the outside of my soul. I know her savage love has taken hold. Broken down, thrown around, Lying naked on the battle ground. My tomb consumes this heart of mine. I’m sick and tired, Of living on the outside of her soul. I know her savage love has taken hold. Girl, crawl away, And don’t come back, just stay away. Your guilt has built this hell around us. We’re sick, we’re tired, We’re living on the outside of this soul. I know that savage love has taken hold.
9.
Is this your mission? Are you changing history? Is this ambition or just creating misery? Too high on taking to consider to give. Too hung on killing to allow them to live. Too big on winning to be able to lose. I'll crawl through glass before I'll walk in your shoes. These politicans prescribe salt for injury, It's your addiction. Slight of mouth and trickery. Too high on taking to consider to give. Too hung on killing to allow them to live. Too big on winning to be able to lose. I'll crawl through glass before I'll walk in your shoes. Too high on taking to consider to give. Too hung on killing to allow them to live. Too big on winning to be able to lose. You could mould us in your own image but we'll never be you.
10.
I've been running down the highway. I've been searching down by your way. I've been running down the highway. Trying to get to you girl. Trying to to get you my way. Woahh. Oh yeah. Woahh. Woahh. Oh yeah. Woahh. I've been fighting, baby all night. Running, hiding until midnight. I've been fighting, baby all night. Trying to get to you. Trying to waste the daylight. Woahh. Oh yeah. Woahh. Woahh. Oh yeah. Woahh.
11.
Recession. Depression. Desolate, with few possessions. Rejection. Deflection. Please may I get your attention? Oppression. Misconception. Every day, an object lesson. Don't mention discretion. Hey man! I have a question. If you turn away to greet me, Close your eyes to see me, Face down to the ground and walk away. What's it like to be me? Mister, can you hear me? Thank you anyway. I'm breathing. Heart beating. Your fellow human being. All seeing. All hearing. Can't tell you how I'm feeling. Not preaching. It's freezing. Stand up and help the kneeling. I'm bleeding. You're leaving. I guess you have your reasons. If you turn away to greet me, Close your eyes to see me, Face down to the ground and walk away. What's it like to be me? Mister, can you hear me? Thank you anyway. If you hide your ears to listen, Shrug and keep your distance, Maybe I'm not here, just walk away. They want to keep me hidden. No walls around my prison. For you and I, it's groundhog day. Turn away to greet us, Close your eyes to see us, Face down to the ground and walk away. What's it like to be us? Hey! can you hear us? Thank you anyway.
12.
13.
14.

about

This is a collection of Wolves In Alcatraz EP, single and demo releases from the first line up of the band, Ben Leese (Guitar/Vocals), Jake Leese (Bass), Russ Gwynne (Drums).
Originally released as the 'Love Crawl Waste', 'Bruises', and 'Three' EPs between May 2018 and March 2020 as well as some individual single releases.

credits

released March 21, 2021

All songs written and performed by B. Leese, J. Leese, R. Gwynne.
Except...
Track 12 - Written by J. Lennon, P. McCartney.
(Middle section written by O. Osbourne, G. Butler, T. Iommi, B.Ward)
Track 13 - Written by N. Cave, M. Harvey, T. Wydler
Track 14 - Written by E. Clapton, J. Bruce, P. Brown

Tracks 1,2,3 & 12 engineered and mixed by Shaun Lowe at Prism Recording Studios, Stoke-On-Trent.

Track 4 engineered and mixed by Dan Rowley at Tremolo Studios, Newcastle-Under-Lyme.

Tracks 5,6,7 & 13 engineered and mixed by Matt Cooke at Synkronise Media Studios, Stoke-On-Trent.

Tracks 8, 9,10 & 11 recorded by Matt Cooke in live takes at The Rigger, Newcastle-Under-Lyme, and mixed at Synkronize Media Studios, Stoke-On-Trent.

Track 11 recorded and mixed by Pete Carney at The Bandstand Rehearsal And Recording Studios, Stoke-On-Trent.

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Wolves In Alcatraz England, UK

Wolves In Alcatraz emerged from the gritty Stoke-on-Trent underground in late 2017, born of a shared love for raw, unapologetic music.
Fronted by raw, aggressive guitarist/vocalist Ben Leese, anchored by the thunderous bass grooves of Dave Owen, and driven by the relentless, pounding drums of Luke Morgan, Wolves In Alcatraz are a force to be reckoned with.
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