Norwegian Arms
by Dan
Please note: MP3s are only kept online for a short time, and if this entry is from more than a couple of weeks ago, the music probably won't be available to download any more.



Norwegian Arms - "Run! Ran! Run! Rah!"

Apace yr steed, let it sip thin broth and be off. Gather. Apace. The night is thinning, the dawn is nimble, wet thistle thither in the timber. Apace, and foresee. Chase. A young girl, thinner, tender, hidden. Her smile trouble, her touch a beckon. A dip of the brim and a pull on the bridle, a moment to reckon, to furl. But run, boy, run god, run young thing and animal claws. Give silver, give writings, give flowers and run. Through grasses, stained glasses, fine lasses, all spent. The future is coming, but now near gone went.


when I first listened to this song, it was immediately the most writable thing in ages. Norwegian Arms is fall-coloured, cotton-dressed, perfect.


Norwegian Arms - "Jitterbug"

"It's baby J!" There is little more tired than Jesus kitsch, but this was something special, this was more than dorm room window dressing, or fridge magnet Urban Outfitters nonsense, this was unique. It was a baby jesus, hand-carved out of wood, hand-painted with tempra. It seemed to take the idea of carpentry being the Christ family trade, Jesus was in overalls, with a crucifix on the breast pocket, which had the odd quality of a misplaced premonition. He had long flowing blond hair, like a baby girl. He was lying on his side, in a cherubic relaxation, and was looking at his fingers. Whether by accident or not, his fingers were stained with brown colouration, which contrasted with his peachy blushing face. And his ear was chipped away, leaving a large wood-coloured scar deep into his cheek. The curl of his smile seemed to come from this flaw, finally deaf to the world, happy, to just study his fingers and think about mud.

[Trimmings of Hides is an AWESOME three-song EP, and it's a suggested 4$]
[Jttrbg is free on the bandcamp]

(image is Lord Alfred "Bosie" Douglas and his brother Francis Douglas, via A Poor Sort of Memory)

Posted by Dan at June 3, 2011 2:13 AM

love these!

Posted by sean at June 3, 2011 10:57 AM

oooooooooooooooooh. time to go swimming.

Posted by Tyler at June 4, 2011 4:13 PM

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about the authors
Sean Michaels is the founder of Said the Gramophone. He is a writer, critic and author of the theremin novel Us Conductors. Follow him on Twitter or reach him by email here. Click here to browse his posts.

Emma Healey writes poems and essays in Toronto. She joined Said the Gramophone in 2015. This is her website and email her here.

Jeff Miller is a Montreal-based writer and zinemaker. He is the author of Ghost Pine: All Stories True and a bunch of other stories. He joined Said the Gramophone in 2015. Say hello on Twitter or email.

Mitz Takahashi is originally from Osaka, Japan who now lives and works as a furniture designer/maker in Montreal. English is not his first language so please forgive his glamour grammar mistakes. He is trying. He joined Said the Gramophone in 2015. Reach him by email here.

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Dan Beirne wrote regularly for Said the Gramophone from August 2004 to December 2014. He is an actor and writer living in Toronto. Any claim he makes about his life on here is probably untrue. Click here to browse his posts. Email him here.

Jordan Himelfarb wrote for Said the Gramophone from November 2004 to March 2012. He lives in Toronto. He is an opinion editor at the Toronto Star. Click here to browse his posts. Email him here.
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