CAFƒ ANTARSIA ENSEMBLE

Songs of the Table

Innova 684

 

Nikos Brisco: vocals, gypsy guitar, Greek bouzouki, baglama, Cretan laouto, & bass

Ruth Margraff: lyrics, vocals, accordion

Ron Riley: guitar, tzouras, vocals

Rami El-Aasser: darbukah, riq, frame drum, bells, ashiko, vocals

 

  1. White Tortoise Lute [2:46]
  2. Three Graces [3:53]
  3. Kill Me Standing  [3:29]
  4. Djelem (Romani/Gypsy intro) [1:42]
  5. JasminÕs Veil   [3:25]
  6. Black Sheep Daughter [3:27]
  7. Book of Tea  [2:59]
  8. Lemon Blossoms  [4:36]
  9. Corcoduce  [2:29]
  10. 1000 Times - IÕve Seen Your Ghost [2:54]
  11. Crows & Angels [4:10]
  12. Rakija Waltz [2:40]                         

album time:  38:59

 

Produced, Engineered, Mixed & Mastered by Kevin Johnson at Prosonic Audio (Pagosa Springs, Colorado) Summer 2006. 

CD cover & portraits by J.R. Delia, back cover & inside jewel box by David Little Smith

 

With special thanks to Dan Prall (Dallas & Istanbul), Wild Blooms (Austin, Texas), Carol Turner for time, talent, energy & expertise, Barb Riley, Cristian Amigo, Philip Blackburn & Innova Records, New Dramatists, EuroAmerica Records, Elyse Singer/Hourglass Group (NYC), Fulbright Foundation (Greece), Dah Teatar,  Max ManicÕ & family, Dragan Ristic/Amala School & KAL (Serbia) www.VoiceofRoma.com, Yiannis Bizas/Hotel Argo (Paros), Athens Centre, Aristotle University of Thessaloniki, University of Athens, ITI/Hellenic Centre (Greece), JR Delia & Jess Haynie, JoeÕs Pub/New York Gypsy Festival, Montreal Guitar Trio, Xenofontas @ Melodia FM (Athens, Greece), the Kardasi, Lapata, Brisco & Margraff families, Bob Ferrante, Joanne Jacobson, Roxana Cruz & David Little-Smith, Cheri Magid, Panos Venzelous, Bobby Jack Pack, Susan Schulman, Nikos Kazantzakis, Milorad Pavic, Townes Van Zandt, Markos Vamvakaris, Saban Bajramovic, Les Tziganes Ivanovitch, CafŽ Noir (Dallas, Texas),  Fred Cohen & Kate Duffy, Fred Ho, Dear friends at Steve Brown, Marcy Arlin, TCG, TWB, MTC, TMUNY, AEK Athens, Rakija, Magges (NYC), Raquy, Catalin O. Jurim, Liron Peled, Maria Hnaraki, Pearl at the overlook, Bill Hicks, the Dude, the Ba, Chris Crenshaw, Steve Taylor, Blue & Carrie, London Egg (NYC), the dervish Karem Hanine.  Nikos Brisco uses handmade acoustic instruments made by luthiers:  Dio Dinos, Maurice Dupont, David Enesa, Nikos Rompogianakis, Tasos Theodorakis, Athanasios Mitrentsis, Karlos Tsakirian & Ioannis Alexandris. Lyrics deeply inspired by wandering the streets, cafŽs and taverns of Sarajevo, Belgrade, Valjevo, Sibiu, Istanbul, Thessaloniki, Athens, Crete and Astoria, ÒNayis-Tumenge sorro le volime Rroma anda lasho muzika! Yiassou Michales!!Ó

 

www.cafeantarsiaensemble.com

www.NikosBrisco.com     www.RuthMargraff.com

www.myspace.com/cafeantarsiaensemble

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.  WHITE TORTOISE LUTE (Margraff/Brisco)

Trampled puddles of wine color

Are his shallow weary eyes

Sleep the sister of his death

Born of poets, bred by thieves

 

He holds no shadow

Only fingers ten and tail

For devils riding devils

In the welted tortoise shell

 

If we leave behind

Our lutes of lovely tortoise shell

WeÕll walk once more as tortoises

Upon the Blackest Sea

 

If we roar like bulls,

The blood of heaven. Will flood the graves

That weÕve forgottenÉ 

In the dead we canÕt remember of before

 

Spread like dung across the darkness

Red the cobweb hooves of mourning

Blind with night, the thunder crying

 

Triple-breasted beast of hell

Wing of falcon swiftly swelling

ÔTil we stand still in the felling

Stain of angels in the well

 

We donÕt know and we wonÕt know

Sang the lute beneath his hand

ÔTil the devils come by forest

And the rifles turn to brothers

 

And the widows dip their apples

In the table of the wine

 

2.  THREE GRACES (Margraff/Brisco)

In the hour of the doorsÉ

Where we had worn three peepholes

Pressing our faces for the three of us

Three graces.   We longed for evening.

To name everything a name

From which it would never shake free

 

Chorus: 

In the bloodwings passing over

Tables set with the ash of Crete

In the scatter of our fathers on the sea

That tore the tears across our cheeks

 

If his hand had never broken

Where he brushed against the PashaÕs horse

Hot and wet, its bosom heaving

From a crest of Ayia Sofia jewels

We know all the riddles of the streetsÉ(Chorus)

 

If we push against the graves

To bury one more iron angel

Loose the snakes to swallow

Golden wings and flaming sword

Black with the powder of the rebel

Where his roots were cutÉ(Chorus)

 

If we drag the last embrace

To fell another shrieking widow

Wrestling Charos in the bloodwings

Black and wet upon the stones

It was the PashaÕs horse that called to Michales

ÉMore than the crested letter

 

3.  KILL ME STANDING (Margraff/Brisco)

Sometimes I die where I am standing

Look down at my soul that cannot break me

Throw my limbs into the river

 I take root and goÉ toÉ sleepÉ

 

I was a girl who cleaned the trains 

And wouldnÕt dance

Thought IÕd someday catch on fire 

Burn slow as IÔm burning

 

Sometimes when you follow me

I throw my hair into the fountains

On my wingŽd horse, across the smiting sun

Hearths and homes are for the others

 

I will never danceÉ 

Unless I catch on fireÉ

Where I am flyingÉ 

Look down as IÕm burning

 

Sometimes the mountains mock us 

Snap the minarets with me

Let the blood rise higher than the horseÕs belly

Take life and thenÉ goÉ freeÉ

 

I am a girl who cleans the trains

And I wonÕt dance 

If I ever catch on fire 

Burn you as IÕm burningÉ(Repeat)

 

(Let me die in the air,

Let me die in the flame

Let me soar to the heavens,

An arrow of grace)

           

4.  DJELEM – ROMANI/GYPSY INTRO (Bajramovic arr. Brisco/Riley)

 

5.   JASMINÕS VEIL (Margraff/Brisco)

Where is her copper jar?

Where is the woman at the well? It can't be Jasmin.

Without that little black lamb at her feet

YouÕd be damn'd Romani jealous

Of Jasmin's Ottoman boutique

 

Jasmin's veil is spinning slow

Across the burning windows

She sings a girl with roses in her tears

Rolls her curse of bulls that lay there dying

Jasmin draws the demons to the wine

 

Jasmin's veil is lifting slow

With ghost viola fingers

Silt is rising from the Dead Sea on its back

Red sky hanging flatter than a curtain

Jasmin calls the black lambs to the Vine

 

Thick-as-a-man's-waist-tall-as-a-house-by-morning!

I've-been–feeling-strangely-toward-you-for-some-time!

 

Jasmin's lace is growing thick

Across the burned out windows. 

Ghosts still flung across the marketplace

And blood still rushing in the bookstore 

Flood these graves to keep us Byzantine

 

Thick-as-a-man's-waist-tall-as-a-house-by-morning!

I've-been–feeling-strangely-toward-you-for-some-time!

           

Jasmin's lace is growing thick

Across the blown out windows

Sabers rushing birds torn in the air

Jasmin's planting all the boots with roses

Jasmin's dragging slit lambs to the wine

 

Jasmin's veil is growing thick

Across the burned out windows

Ghosts still flung across the marketplace

And blood still rushing in the bookstore 

Flood her grave to keep us Byzantine

 

6.     BLACK SHEEP DAUGHTER (Margraff/Brisco)

As if her Daddy's black lung

Choked down on her song

And called up bullfrogs in her throat

So she kept sighinÕ there and clawinÕ

At the covers all night long

For some velvet she could treasure

In her ribcage iron skillet

She'd keep stokinÕ like a stovepipe

ÔTil the crack of every dawn

 

As if her Daddy's whiskey sour

Sunset was standing still

Against the tracks across the hills

Where the trains would pressure down

On the faces of the pennies

And the fossil of a girl

Straining at the feast of families

To keep the blackberries from her gown

 

And she would press so many four-leaf clovers

In the Bibles that he later had to burn.

And he showed her how the sun could turn

And burst its liquor open still and rise again,

How to lift her hair up from the dew

Of prehistoric promises so green

With weeping willows and fatted calves and feasting

 

As if we never would see lava coming down

In rock hard feathers all across the sky

Turn the yellow cake to smoke

And gold to liquor.  As if we'd always find him

Putting out the fleece again tonight

Waiting for his black sheep daughter

To cross his mindÉ

 

And Daddy I know I should've crossed your sepulcher

WearinÕ timbrels every time it thundered

I should've poured you somethinÕ sweeter

Than the day far spent in the slate

I wanted my own way then. But now my will is brokenÉ

Can I please come in? And stay in the extra room?

ExtraÉExtra roomÉ

 

As if the same old whiskey sour

Sunset was standing still

In the fossil printed darkness

Pressin' into peacock diamonds

In the rough ...for you to believe

 

7.     BOOK OF TEA (Margraff/Brisco)

When heaven struck its head

On the vaulted twilight

Split the blue dome jade to stars

And the moon was flung across the night

 

There Ôrose a grace upon the sea

With horns and dragon-tail that spun

Dark rainbows in her cauldron

And she told me when she built the sky

 

She left two crevices undone

For the rolling of lovers

For the rolling of hope

For the rolling of teaÉ. (Repeat)


8.   LEMON BLOSSOMS (Margraff/Brisco)

Is this the Crete / This is the Crete

My father watered with his blood      

 

Was I born to crush the blossoms

Of these lemons in the window

Was I born to toast the Pashas

And the tainted henna hands

 

Was I born to seize the lions

By the loins of rotting gallows

And cursing ChristÉAnd curse Mohammad

As the dead sink down within a man

 

ThereÕs no room in my house

For my swollen soul tonight

And thereÕs no room in my Raki glass

To break it with my knife

 

ThereÕs no room on the lemon tree

To hang another broken face

ThereÕs no room in the mountain sage

For all the devilsÉAman, Aman, Aman

 

Is this the Crete / This is the Crete

My mother watered with her tears   

                                               

Was I born to Samsons springing

From the worms of milk abounding

To work the pestle, work the mortar

Work the scorn of threshing floors

 

IÕm not a man to let the fly

Run up and down the saber (Repeat)

 

ThereÕs no room in my house

For my swollen soul tonight

And thereÕs no room in my Raki glass

To crush it with my knife

 

ThereÕs no more room on the lemon tree

To hang another broken face

ThereÕs no room in the mountain sage          

For all the devilsÉAman, Aman, AmanÉ

 

9.     CORCODUCE (Brisco) meaning Òunripe plumsÓ in Romanian

 

 

10.  1000 TIMES – IÕVE SEEN YOUR GHOST (Margraff/Brisco/Riley/El-Aasser)

What madness!  How can it be!

What horror, oh what horror

This...a stranger's voice                                 

A bell struck hard too many times

A bell with voices in it...ringing

I was a small boy / A baby's cry

A thousand times I've seen your ghost

A thousand times I've seen your ghostÉ(Repeat)

 

What madness has befallen

Every generation / Oh what madness!

For I am the son who yielded             

To the Rose Torment / Oh my beloved!

I am the bedouin who wanders         

In the wilderness afar / My love, my love!

From my beloved / I have searched for you

In every marketplace / Every vineyard

Every garden / Every grave

A thousand times I've seen your ghost

A thousand times I've seen your ghostÉ(Repeat)

 

11.   CROWS & ANGELS (Brisco)

Oh woe is me how will she ever respect me?

IÕm just a wayward bramble my law is my guitar

The only thing I see is whatever is before me

One day I stole into her eyes, now I see nothing more

 

Oh woe is me when I hear the road a-calling

When I feel the ocean rolling its tide in my bones

She says sheÕll go there with me but oh I have no money

She says it doesnÕt matter, she says our love is strong

 

What I failed to mention is my loveÕs a Gypsy princess

And when she plays her accordion crows and angels sing in key

From the forests of Romania they say her father slept with witches

That her mother died in birth, speaking an ancient tongue

 

Oh woe is me IÕm just a wayward Christian

 Far from my little village where my mother prays for me

 

Oh woe is me everywhere I go the birds paint her face with melody

The moon lights my way back home

Here I am tonight in a field drinking wine

Living an ancient riddle, singing an ancient rhyme

 

Into her arms I find me running like a child

And between her legs I find the songs that from youth once drove me wild

And the crows and the angelsÉ have all been good to me

Six strings on my guitar now six children call me father

 

12.  RAKIJA WALTZ (Brisco)