Bootleg - 2nd demo - Live at the ostinato
After recording our first demo for the new record we continued working on new songs.
So we had just finished working on new songs like - "Death", "How many ways", "A different story", "after making love" and "and of that man".
Imaginary Insects was not included in this demo, he was written last before the CD recording, when we felt we need another strong song for the album.
From that demo we have uploaded 3 songs (lyrics included down the page):
"And of that man" was finally not included in the album, and we guess will never be recorded again.
Still it's a nice song about a guy that holds a record collection, kind of 60s pop music in feel, and we thought you might like to hear it.
"Death" was at first a much complex song in structure, also including the full song lyrics, which is a C part composed by Yonatan Levital. The C part is beautiful but we decided to make the song less complex in the album and to skip this part and other parts as you can hear. Still this recording is interesting and shows the working progress on that song and full performance of this song lyrics.
"Every night" first version was instrumental including a different song as the C part. we played it at a couple of shows. Before the CD recording session we turned it into a "real" song with verse and chorus. We might wanna use the C part as a new song in the future, meanwhile here is the original "Every night".
And of that man (Karen Alkalay Gut/Roy yarkoni)
And of that man whose voice
is honey hunger I know
nothing; of his flat ‑
the living room
with its two arm chairs
facing the music:
receiver, tape deck,
compact disk, speakers ‑
the wall‑to‑wall record collection
(God he pulls them out as if he knew
where each one was blind folded).
All those people in all those songs
all alone in their albums
Death is walking before me (Karen Alkalay Gut/Roy yarkoni+Yonatan Leviatl)
He is tall and wears long heavy robes
but I only see that it is Death I am following
when he turns and announces my end
He reaches for the throat
and I thrust long red fingernails
into his eyes and he is forced
to shut them so I have time to escape
We continue walking—as if I am sure
he has learned his lesson, but soon
he turns and makes to clutch me again.
I bite that soft place in his hand
between thumb and finger
and when I wake in pain,
it is my own hand.
Every night (Karen Alkalay Gut/Roy yarkoni)
Every night a different story
Every story a different night
I never loved him
you know—there is no proof
no documentation I can’t say