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The Golden Age

by Mark Sheeky

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1.
So you want to be an artist? Are you ready for some times of pain and madness? Welcome to my gallery of failed ambitions. Pull up a chair and pipe and muse upon your greatness before you worry about the bills and the void, the indifference, the scorn that awaits. Welcome to your quest for something worthy of your name, your quest to seize the best, of your soul's marrow. Take your oil and your earth and run to a grave of glory. Will you pay the price? Will you pay the price? Welcome to my gallery.
2.
Frans Hals 03:11
When you gonna paint me with your satin brush? When you gonna flick my big moustache? Are the frills I'm wearing really to your taste? When you gonna make my clothing paste? Frans Hals, Frans Hals, Frans Hals, Frans Hals. Frans Hals, Frans Hals, Frans Hals, Frans Hals. Paint me as your mother in her rocking chair. Show me every strand of silver hair. Dress me in formica if it suits the scene. Melt my lacy spirals into cream. Frans Hals, Frans Hals, Frans Hals, Frans Hals. Frans Hals, Frans Hals, Frans Hals, Frans Hals. Break me into fragments of a broken day Yellows turn to black What will come of you Frans Hals?
3.
I like to canter on my horse out where the air is clear. I wear a hat with a feather, I'm the laughing cavalier. In pink frilly knickers I sing with joy my heart could not be freer. I point at people and chortle, I'm the laughing cavalier. I get so lonely in the evening I wish I had a friend I think "If only someone could know me, could see the special me I hide inside!" At home I browse the Internet and buy a fruity beer. I burn my bills with a smile for I'm the laughing cavalier. I grin at all the business men who call the prices dear and ride into the sunset like a laughing cavalier.
4.
Girl reading a letter in the morning light. Girl reading the letter that he wrote last night. It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. It's over. Girl reading a letter at an open window. Girl reading a letter. Time to let him go.
5.
I'm draped in your shadow, hiding from the world, frightened by my thoughts, frightened by your thoughts or silence; I am sorry for my letter, for my thoughts, for your tears. I was a leaf, lost in the wind. I needed someone to protect me from a sky that was broken by someone else. In my transparent form I can kiss with loveless lips, wish comfort for your tears, say sorry for my secret goodbye. I am sorry I lacked courage to tell you when last we met. I was a leaf, now I am autumn's shadow. You will remember me more than I you. Seal every good memory in the acorn of these words.
6.
Nature Morte 02:16
7.
Cotán 03:16
I'm praying by the moonlight, the icy moonlight that's burning through the window of my cell, and I hear god speak in whispered codings the slow unfoldings that spiral from his heaven to my hell. In my lust I paint his luscious bulbous bounty before I bite it. Before I bite. Then in repentance I paint his children they light the darkness but even their electric skin can't soothe my soul. So I'll keep praying by the moonlight, the icy moonlight that's burning through the window of my cell.
8.
Hey, I'm Tycho Brahe noseless astronomer. Wide brimmed, copper skinned I pose like a foreigner. Nobody knows what it's like to have no nose like me. I gaze at the moon an orb of serenity. I look at the stars and feel them look back at me. What can I find in the universe to unwind with my mind? Inside my hall of stone, beneath the golden claws of dome, I seek to understand his plan, I seek escape. And I, in vaulted space and free from Earthly care, my body whole, my mind at peace, can see God's eye watching us live and die. Brush my starry eyes with dust of eternity. See my many wives they pour love all over me. Count up to ten, take a telescope to bed then, my friend.
9.
I put this thread here. I put this thread here. I put this thread here. I put this thread here. I put this thread here. I am the lace maker. Let me map your cares with webs. Let me soothe your worries with my silks of fate, the complicated pattern in which we're trapped, little fly. Little butterfly.
10.
And so I sit in the dark for a bit. I give a glance, you see my face, not my stance. My head's a whirl but soon enough it's clearing. I am the girl with the pearl earring. I look ahead clad in my blue and yellow, and not in red, so specified that fellow. And with a curl he makes my face endearing. I am the girl with the pearl earring. The men may gaze like staring is in fashion, but I'm not fazed I will dispel their passion. I'll give a twirl, and laugh away their leering. I am the girl with the pearl earring.
11.
Rembrandt 03:20
I touch your hair with tender care my Saskia as I roll you in crisp linen sheets to sleep. We have no money! I haven't got the nerve to tell you. Money! The curse of human industry; so sleep my darling baby, dream of happy pasts, I will lie awake and worry for us both. I press you near, release a tear, my Saskia, as I pray to God for providence to shine. I wish for money! I don't know how we're going to make it. Money! The jester who controls us all; so sleep my darling baby, the silver of the glass, the amber of the lake will speak when you wake.
12.
I know I'm poor, a pile of rags and bones, a shadow of a beast, a broken robe, but I was an artist once. I was an artist once. You will ignore, as I ignored the rats around me as I toiled about my pain, but I was an artist once. I was an artist once. I bet you think you could have been like me, but better. Pity my bones! Bless my rotted teeth! My failure is your spark, but I'm not envied, just beaten. Not envied, defeated. You just wait until I die, then a true legend is born! So be inspired. Love my gentle works. Weep at my broken life of madness but I was an artist once. I was an artist once.
13.
Art For Me 03:04
There's no time for me. There's no place for me. There's no love for me. There's no life for me. There's no hope for me of escape, there's only art for me. There are no people for me. There are no friends for me, but there are passions for me, and pretends for me. There are dreams of getting better, being seen within the scene of me. There's no sleep for me. There's no money for me. There's no rest for me, only worry for me. There's no end except infinity, there's only art for me.

about

An album about and an homage to paintings of the Dutch Golden Age, but also about art, and the artists' life. The music is unified by images, paintings and moods, from the dark, ascetic Cotán to the light and gleeful Laughing Cavalier. The album as a whole is a journey from day, to night, and the streets where we find a struggling Zurbarán.

Some of these songs date back a few years, to 2008 and a series of fun songs written about Vermeer paintings. The Lace Maker was a piano piece composed for a Vermeer themed piano performance that also included The Astronomer (which was subsequently released on The Anatomy of Emotions).

Several songs were written for this album; The Legend of Zurbarán, Cotán, Welcome to my Gallery and Art For Me. Nature Morte was a live synth recording made in one take, an evocation of a specific mood. Tycho Brahe stands out here as not a painter, but an astronomer, yet the 16th/17th century theme and the exuberant style of the song fits perfectly.

Download order includes lyric booklet and selected official sheet music.

credits

released April 14, 2023

Composed, produced, and performed by Mark Sheeky.

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Mark Sheeky Crewe, UK

Mark Sheeky is a surrealist artist from the North of England. His music began as synth, game influenced, music then experimental classical piano and art rock/art pop, and surrealist rock music.

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