Davy Lyons – Evidence is a beautiful refreshing jazz pop album with songs driven by an acoustic guitar and bass sections. These acoustic guitar driven jazz pop songs make the album soothing along with Davy Lyons crooning voice.
The song A Return marked the return of Davy Lyons. The song A Return was driven by an acoustic guitar and bass section. That bass section with the upright bass gives the song a smooth lounge jazz feeling, sound, and vibe. The song is about searching for a peaceful life in the wilderness.
Davy Lyons went a king’s way while maddened on the run. Bent and beaten by a wind. Melted by the sun. Victory each time was his after bloody battles. Justice was rendered swiftly and parchments duly signed. A holy fire rose within. Davy left his command for peaceful life out in the wilderness woodlands. To live on locust, hazelnut, and strawberry. Watercress and stream water. Honey from the golden bee. That is what the lyrics “For mountain, river, the mighty glen and woodland/To live on locust, hazelnut, strawberry/Watercress and stream water, honey from the golden bee” indicate.
Davy Lyons used and reorganized some words from the children’s nursery rhyme Humpty Dumpty. “All the king’s horses and all the king’s men/They couldn’t bring the king back to them”
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t bring the king back to them. Ancient voices called from the corner of the wood. Soothing, delighting, and guiding all at once. The brave song of the crickets and red hounds running sure. His wild dear companions were spirits bold and pure. Salted every season. Wintered in spring. They danced with the raven to a burning violin.
It burned and it tempered after a short long while. Now torn on mossy stone the strings lie long behind. So too wine and women light their darkness lets in. Now unwanted where cricket for cricket sings. Where the rough beasts roam only for to feast on flesh to have their fun with a carcass stripped when fresh. With them he wanders year long until eternity. Mountain, river, northern wind, free from sanity.
The Bullring was about how Davy would only give his life to the woman that he only loved. She is the one he would give his life for. However she already has a lover but Davy does not mind. Eventually Davy a proposal for her to marry to him. Now the woman rejects his proposal to marry her because she already has a lover who is a sailor that is currently overseas that will eventually return back home to her. This leaves Davy heartbroken and sad. So Davy killed her with a knife through the heart because she is the one Davy would have killed for.
Davy has never loved like this before. She is the one he would give his life for. She was only 18. Davy was just 21 when he saw her long hair that was golden like the sun.
He watched her and followed her until they were friends. They strolled through the park where the willow tree bends. Davy heard she had a lover. But he didn’t mind because he loved her so much.She would be his in due time.
By the time he went with a ring to her door, they had walked down the aisle a thousand times before. He makes a proposal for her to marry to him. But she told Davy, “No, I’ll not marry you. You must go on alone. Gonna wait till my sailor boy sails back on home.” Davy tells her, “Go on without you? I don’t think I’ll be able.” And he threw the diamond ring down on the table.
The woman Davy loves will not marry Davy and rejects his proposal to marry her because she already has a lover who is a sailor that is currently overseas that will eventually return back home to her. This leaves Davy heartbroken and sad. Davy does not think he will be able to go on without her.
The song takes a dark sharp turn with a replete gruesome plot twist when Davy uses a neat sharp silver weapon to kill her. Davy killed her with a knife through the heart. Davy has never loved like this before. She is the one Davy would have killed for. He couldn’t bear life apart.
The Harp-Weaver explains how there was not enough clothing for Davy when in his childhood even though Davy was need of clothing to cover to cover himself in. The song is a mixture of folk pop with Old English.
When Davy was knee-high, Davy’s mother said, “Son, you’ve need of clothes to cover you. And not a rag have I. There’s nothing in the house to make a boy breeches. Nor shears to cut a cloth with. Nor thread to take stitches. There’s nothing in the house but a loaf-end of rye and a harp with a woman’s head nobody will buy.” And she began to cry.
Davy was need of clothing to cover to cover himself in. There was nothing in the house to make a boy breeches. There was not a pair of shears to cut cloth with or thread to make stitches. There was nothing in the house but a loaf-end of rye bread and a harp with a woman’s head that nobody will buy.
That was in the early fall. When came the late fall, Davy’s mother said, “Son, the sight of you makes your mother’s blood crawl. Little skinny shoulder blades sticking through your clothes! And where you’ll get a jacket from. God above knows. It’s lucky for me, lad. Your father’s in the ground. And can’t see how I let his son go around!” And she made a queer sound. That was in the late fall. When the winter came, Davy did not have a pair of breeches or a shirt to his name.
The sight of Davy with little skinny shoulder blades sticking through his clothes makes his mother’s blood crawl. His father is deceased. And she can’t see how she lets him go around looking like this. Being impoverished.
His mother said, “Son, come, climb into my lap and I’ll chafe your little bones while you take a nap.”
But they were silly for half an hour or more. Davy with his long legs dragging on the floor. A-rock-rock-rocking to a mother-goose rhyme! But we were happy for a half an hour’s time! Davy was a great lad. And what would folks say to hear his mother singing. To sleep all day in such a daft way?
The night before Christmas, Davy cried with the cold. He cried myself to sleep like a 2 year old. And in the deep night he felt his mother rise and stare down upon him with love in her eyes. Davy saw his mother sitting on the one good chair. A light falling on her from a place where he couldn’t tell. Looking 19 and not a day older. And the harp with a woman’s head leaned against her shoulder. Her thin fingers, moving in the thin, tall strings were weaving wonderful things.
And gold threads whistling through his mother’s hand. He saw the web grow and the pattern expand. She wove a child’s jacket. And when it was done, she laid it on the floor and wove another one. She wove a red cloak. That was so regal to see. Davy said, “She’s made it for a king’s son and not for me.”But Davy knew it was for him.
She wove a pair of breeches quicker than that! She wove a pair of boots and a little cocked hat. She wove a pair of mittens and a little blouse. She wove all night in the still cold house She sang as she worked and the harp strings spoke. Her voice never faltered and the thread never broke. And when Davy awoke, there sat his mother with the harp against her shoulder looking 19 and not a day older. A smile about her lips and a light about her head. And her hands in the harp-strings frozen dead. Piled up beside her toppling to the skies were the clothes of a king’s son. Just Davy’s size.
Preciosa is about a siren named Preciosa who waits until some man simply passing through is beckoned by her beams of light. Davy was simply passing through and heard Preciosa sing. No man was said to resist her. Certainly Davy didn’t buck the trend. When Preciosa and Davy met, she told him “I’m not your lover or friend.” The two engage in romantic activities later on. Preciosa is Spanish for precious.
Preciosa waits alone in the wind. She’ll wait there all day and all night until some man simply passing through is beckoned by her beams of light. She’ll take him to the river and lay down right by its edge to the song of the cricket and to the call of the sedge. Her dark hair gleams in the sunlight and gleams by light of the moon. She sings of some ancient sorrow wrapped up in an old folk tune. Preciosa sings, “O won’t you come with me, my darling one, come with me a while? Come with me, my little darling one, if only for tonight”
The leaves of the ash and willow stay silent next to the shore. They’ve witnessed Preciosa. They’ve seen all this before. They’ve seen some man who is passing by to hear her sing and watch her smile. Bewildered by her dark beauty without the will to decline. No man was said to resist her. Certainly Davy didn’t buck the trend. When Preciosa and Davy met, she told him “I’m not your lover or friend.”
On the date of August 31, Davy did have some place to go. But Preciosa took his hand and told him there was no place else to go. Preciosa sung, “O won’t you come with me, my darling one, come with me a while? Come with me, my little darling one, if only for tonight”
They walked through thicket of bramble and had their threads snatched by prickly thorns of blackberry, wine berry, and tall yellow-blooming gorse. Davy lost a few from the jacket of his black secondhand suit. She lost one from her petticoat. The hem of her petticoat was starched with wild black fruit. Davy felt the expectation of a man who’s on a promise. Whether with fine sweet Fat Margot or that round sweet throat Goddess.
The sun went down and the moon came out. They reached the wide river’s edge. They quickly fell together onto a bed of grass and sand. Davy ripped away her satin dress and threw it to the heather. His suit came off at a hat’s drop. Between them there was nothing. Their bodies moved as freely as the wild waters were running. Her hips they slipped away from him like two little silver trout. And then the vice grip of her thighs held him tight from toe to snout. For sure they gave the best they could, mouth-to-mouth and limb-to-limb. Exchanging blows and maneuvers, kiss for kiss and pin for pin.
The night flamed now with windy fire. Her dress blew hooked on the hedge. Down the river beasts were howling. They drowned out cricket and sedge. And as their bodies burned to ash smoke in the air did billow.
Davy had no wish to fall for her.As if it were up to him. He had no wish to be her friend. It was one night where they were free.
With sandy lips and grassy knees at the dawning of the day, they left the waters running wild. They went their separate ways. On the first day of September, last night already long behind. Gone like a song sung in summer or Preciosa gone with the wind.
Golden Hair is about a woman with golden hair with white skin pale as a pearl that Davy encounters who she makes Davy her dear companion.
Davy walks by the river beneath bare ash trees with his mind at ease for too long. The moon shines silver on a golden hair girl with white skin pale as a pearl. She takes Davy by the hand. He doesn’t speak a word. Where can he go but with her?
With a flick of her tongue she cuts through his lies. He is left without one alibi. The heart of his dear companion is on fire. His heart is driven wild. There is no one he’d rather see. There is nowhere he’d rather be.
They live with each other in town by the sea. At 4 AM in the morning one dance on Main Street. is more than a thousand dreams. They smoke by the window their clothes near their feet. The lamplight goes off on the street. A bluebird calls out for a mate to come along. Day breaks to his little song.
Blueprints is a sweet and short lovely jazz pop song.
The workshop street is empty now. It ends sometimes just like this. The concrete stones your own to walk. And days promise gone amiss. But oh, sweet little one, sing on so light and low. And pierce the long deep night with your song.
While you bear your tiny sorrow hid behind both smiles and tears, the pale ghosts of your parents ring. Ring-a-ring-ring in your ears. Though the new and bitter voices cry. More of this and of that less. The blueprints of all destruction are already through the press.
Candles sheds lights on how a woman who sleeps with a different man each night feels guilt, remorse, or shame in doing such blasphemous activities.
The candles lined 4 throw lights on the desk. As incense burns slowly, it smells like jasmine. Smoke rises soft to the top of the room and curls at the ceiling while outside the moon plays hammer and sickle with night’s desires that cuts off the bravado and beats down pride.
While Davy thinks with pen at his desk in his room that it’s moving shoreline and moving you. How do you answer the call in your bone? How do you answer the call in your blood?
This woman who sleeps with a different man each night feels guilt, remorse, and shame. She has and feels the same guilty feeling each time there is a new man in her bed. She has always been led by her mother’s hand. She says her mother is an angel sent from above who left her father when push came to shove. And dear darling went back to him when he cells wreaked their havoc in his seeds den. Beyond blood duty given what he’d done. Now the man in her bed thinks that he’s won.
To the branch of an elm a blackbird flies stands in the shadows of summer’s disguise. And picks at a twig broken on the branch until held in its beak is wood for the ranch. For shelter, for warmth, for bone, and for blood. It’s just one more day with work to be done. At 9 AM in the morning coffee’s just made. From the branch of the elm bird flies away.
The years pass Dave by and he passes them too. A new cast plays out what the old went through. A curly-haired waitress who just brought him beer. A sunlit girl dancing without care or fear. This sunlit girl is a stooped brown-haired beggar working the tables. Women in white elegant and able. Crazed man in black, right arm raised to the sky. Whistling grandfather passing me by. How will you answer the call?
Edenvale explains the story of a man that Davy met back he was young that was found from some tree last week hung in the town of Edenvale. He taught Davy some wise words and sayings.
A woman that Davy met was not quite who he thought. For he made an image, in pure gold it was wrought. There was a man that Davy met back when they were young found from some tree last week hung in Edenvale.
This man told Davy, “ May the road rise with you. May your river run deep. May the ones who are true in your life well you keep. Watch the amber lights gleam upon the midnight streets. You’ve nowhere to wander, no one really to meet. But our glasses we raise, rooted voices let ring to the ships setting off those lost or coming in.”
Holy Day is one of those subtle calming jazz pop songs backed by an acoustic guitar. Not surprising since this is a song by Davy Lyons. The song is about searching for answers.
Now the hands of the clock turn to half the 6th hour. There’s nothing to be doing at this early hour but listen to the breeze and birds that are singing. Tune in to the heart in its newest beginning. As low clouds pass west across a slate-grey blue sky. Branch, cone, and needle to and fro on the pines. And the run in the river runs straight through your mind. It’s as close to an answer as you’re likely to find.
Holy day. Holy night. Day comes with the details that were not washed away or are erased. We labour for creation. There are those moving slow. Maybe up or down rungs. And those in golden shackles. Stuck in velvet ruts. You know your dear darling knows former and latter. You saw her chains fall and the velvet in tatters. You say, “Let’s walk that mountain walk, there’s fresher air to find. Let’s leave that search for answers aside for a while”
The dog lays his head on your lap in the bed. You smile at the old saying that he’s your best friend. He’s like tonight’s moon shining 360º degrees. The dog doesn’t speak but is damn good company. While downstairs your friends, a married couple, lie asleep. They’re gentle and kind. You’re glad fortune made you meet. Be it dog, friend, lover, whichever lot in life. It’s as close to an answer as you’re likely to find.
Now the hands of the clock turn to half the 5th hour. If you could you would be asleep at this late hour. The night is black and blue. A cock crows for what is coming. You’re one foot closer to your final becoming. As wind whistles low, needles rustle on the pines and a sparrow sings out into blue and black sky. And a cry from the valley comes sudden and high. They are as close to an answer as you or I.
Davy sings about how much he misses his love in his place of love on his song called Plaisir d’Amour.
Two couples do a slow dance in a lamplit at Gothic Square (Gothic Quarter) in the strange wild heart of Barcelona, Spain with night music in the air of the night. By the years the singer’s worn but has a song to sing rooted in experience and into night air let ring
Well Davy watches and is bound to savour his sweet voice in the night. In Plaça San Felipe, there are Neri four dancers, one singer, and a lamplight.
This city was the rose of fire, Davy gave her the same name. Burnished by her strickened glory. There is no place for praise or blame. One song that played when she was here was his Plaisir d’Amour. But now that she is gone this one he sings is his Plaisir d’Amour. We’re bound to savour the rose and thorns and stem. And bodies burning, hearts hunting, until still stiff in clay lay each of them.
Catalans dance dressed as devils and sing in a different square. The drums beat loud, and sparks are wild in night air. Dressed red, black, blue, and yellow are devils of Gracia. People watching from the church steps, balconies, and terraces.
I rate this album 5/5*****!