Heliotrope (2011)

by anthony savino

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This album was recorded in the winter of 2010-2011 at The Soundbox, a studio in New Bedford, Massachusetts. Clinton Lisboa did all of the studio work, and mixing and mastering. All the songs were written by Anthony Savino. The artwork was done by Nick Irzyk.


released March 1, 2011

[Anthony Savino – vocals, guitar, violin, percussion]
[Clinton Lisboa – recording, engineering]
[Meyer Brown – upright bass, viola da gamba]
[Ian Legge – cello]
[Sam Brown – banjo]



all rights reserved
Track Name: Kairos
I’d say it’s easier to take for granted those names that refer to hollow places than paste more fitting words to them like structure. Almost like sitting birds, they’ll not perch forever. But you’ll pray that they remain as fixtures. They’re notes on staff; the meter moves on. You waste a whole day in bed just counting, while I’m slowly sipping the hours. Whoso drives the ambulance westward won’t know the worth of its tow. No toll on this road is honored, we stole our last ride home. We made it safe to the off-ramp, all moonlit skin as our coats. Yes, we were selfish, but no one deserves this. We’re derelicts in debt to false hope. We hang on for salvation sunrise, as futile as winding the clocks back. A girl I forgot, a door I left locked, then it hits me like eighteen wheels.
Track Name: Wish You Well
It’s an easy thing to forget the way the wind moves through our rushing veins on a summer’s day. You’re drowning in rain. Do you hear the sounds of the engines now the train tracks like spider legs have crossed this town? Do you hear them now? It’s really quite a sound. Are you listening now? It’s really quite a sound. If you cut loose that attitude that’s holding you to those modern blues, just cut them loose, and think of the things you’ll do. You could dam a river span, or chart the course through ancient land, or lend a hand to your fellow man in Michigan or Afghanistan. Well, it’s your plan, you grain of sand. It’s all in our hands, like grains of sand. I couldn’t tell heaven from hell, the water was warm and the current was so strong it shattered shells. Should you heed those swells, godspeed to you, my belle. It’s a wishing well, and I wish you well.
Track Name: Levanter
Wide were his eyes when we did open the foyer door. I was alive then, breathing, hoping and reaching towards some strange new anomaly both heaven-sent and hell-bent: that I should live to see this day. The sun’s going down, your grandson is on his way, and I know you’ll be happier soon. Light in her eyes when she first noticed the ocean view. Love in her arms and broken glass down the avenue. You travelled from distant lands and brought along the weather, it lately has been better. It seems that wherever you sing the Levanter whistles in tune. I was awake and I heard you leaving. I was hoping you were on your way home. Do you think you’ll ever return? You’ve bricks in your bag and tar on your heels, but don’t carry your mother’s doubt. The further we go, the smaller the world gets, we realize we’ve always been home.
Track Name: Lucid Daymare Song
She said, “I know what it feels like. You feel dead and useless by the night. Wake up too late, head spinning with thoughts, can’t recall dates or names; you’ve forgot. Who knows these burdens that you bear?” Don’t let them get to you. Don’t let them sink through your skin like they often do. Most days the sun is in your eyes, but who can see through all that light? I’ll be the clouds that sleep over town and remain through nightfall when the coyotes will sound. I know we both can leave this all. I won’t let them get to you, I won’t let them drag you right in to their walking blues, those are sorry shoes to be in.
Track Name: Wishing Well
Drag along a wishing well, you’re spilling water everywhere. Drop a coin in the wishing well, how much gold have you wasted there? And what goal results of such fare? Yes, your faith can turn tides, but those same tides can capsize. The soundest of vessels are rotting away on the tallest of sea-buried mountains. The tempest you wrestle is plotting your fate. Will this squall be your fountain of youth? Drag along a wishing well, your icons will not save you now. Drop a coin in the wishing well, drop it all in the wishing well! Your pardons are not the way out. We’re gardens you left in the ground. We’ll grow if you leave the well somewhere. You sow but the soil is caked and bare. Some vein is still left ten feet below, but the clouds are blood red and pockmarked with crows.
Track Name: Ithaca
Aeolus, position your vane to halcyon days. Solstice, bookended by waves calmer than graves. Alcyon, lacking in sleep, discovers that Ceyx now is gone, lost in the sea, lost in the reef. Your father wields four winds for you and your lover. You both will be rebirthed with wings. Hold each other and fly close to the sun, the days will get longer from now on. Ithaca, waited all year for the storm to clear. All of us dream on the pier, endorphins and beer. This game of days one cannot win with Icarus wings. Alcyon, share with us the view from your altitude. I’ve searched all the corners of earth, now I’m tired. Still, I’d cross every ocean for her while this fire burns through any storm or tempest Poseidon should procure.
Track Name: Bricks and Paint
Take from me. Don’t keep it to yourself, just give it all away. I believe the times we’re living in have oversimplified these feelings, we take them for granted now. All you see is fleeting like the glances on the subway late at night. You work too much and all your friends and family are convinced you’re dead. And I’m the one who feels short of breath. Well, short of breathing, I feel I could leave this all behind, throw it to the wayside. And I’m no Orpheus as long as you insist that this won’t work for us, so I will bide my time until those stars align. Take it from me: your principles are foundations, not boundaries. But we hold these truths to be absolute while all we see and all we read is bad news after convoluted bad news. How can we expect to move on? The air we breathe has been here for eons. But the magnets in the sun are switching, and atlas is an old man shifting his weight. We’re numbering the days like we had made them with bricks and paint. Our ears tuned out the song between the ground and the atmosphere. The greatest theme, and we’re nearly free. The greatest theme, and we’re nearly free. Are you alone? We’re each alone, we’re all alone. But you’re not alone. If you’re alone then we are each and all alone.
Track Name: Memory and Prophecy
Peruse the garage by midnight for firewood. The newspaper burns through the night and the cider is good. All that we were and all we will be converge as if birds in a synchronized vee. We ride on the wakes of each other. I circle the yard in these sneakers with aging tears. It’s perfect how far we have gone to now be back here. All that we’ve lost and all that’s returned continues to cross over miles of earth; you are reborn in Santa Fe. Decembers of old, how the world was an endless place. The weather is cold but there’s warmth in the red on your face. I felt back then what I know now, how all around you is visible sound, how you made me kiss you that winter.
Track Name: Buzzard's Wing
I don’t know where I’ve been but I sure as hell won’t be back again. I couldn’t say what I’ve seen. It’s a mystery, even to me. When I was young I didn’t dream, something killed that spark in me. There must have been a dark star and it hasn’t yet come back round these parts. I’m just chasing papers again when I should be riding the buzzard’s wing. Massachusetts will never leave my heart, but this heart’s been blown apart and I don’t want anyone to call my name. The truth ain’t nothing but a heart sore. The truth ain’t nothing but a heart sore. Slipping through fingers, it’ll never be yours. The truth ain’t nothing but a heart sore. And I don’t want anyone to call my name. I don’t want anyone to call my name. My name’s just a player in a sad, sad game. So I don’t want anyone to call my name. Broken hours and grinding teeth, a dark highway bearing remnants of the old town. I breathed among the pages and the leaves who’ve parted ways, leaving remnants of the same truth. But I don’t want to talk about truth any more.