Folly Tales

by Bess of Bedlam

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1.
We are the brambles of Dourlens And we grow throughout the fortress’s cracks Metal clamps pulled my belly, Monsters flowed between my legs Examined from inside my body, Forced way to join the State wards We are the brambles of Dourlens And we grow throughout the fortress’s cracks With my school mates, wisely work in the fields Clean my children cage, like a lifeless Cinderella Obedient, smooth, apathetic maids Untidy drags, easy drags. Drags, we are drags, and we are locked in Dourlens For being free wild girls. We are the brambles of Dourlens And we grow throughout the fortress’s cracks If we dare resist authority, Our bodies are bound to put on ugly straitjackets Tight on our chests like old corsets, let us breathe… Let us breathe, oh let us ramble again, and wander freely Far away, let us breathe, let us ramble again, and wander freely We are the brambles of Dourlens, we sneak into cracks and holes…
2.
The Poet 02:46
One day, one poet That I met Truly believed in beauty of reality. Unfortunately He bumped into An old lady – Bitch, corrupted witch. (refrain) How can you believe All that shit, all that shit How can you believe what they taught you at school While your fresh brain tricked you so well… The poet I met Turned into A loony scientist – Glitter, plastic glory Excuse me, Sir, Will you move from my path? My anger is going to kill you (refrain) The poet, he’s dead Of too much pride Crushed my dreams away – I decide so to kill him a second time.
3.
The Clown 03:29
Far in the country there was a fair, Only the music of the circus would break silence in the air. Deep in the country, there was a clown, Only his tricks and funny face would make little children laugh. I was dazed and curious to enter this odd village, Where young and old folks were the same age. No poetry in my words and manners, I asked to the clown what the hell they were playing at, down there. « We are not playing, we are living « How can you tell what is hiding in people's minds? « With which heart can you feel ? » Once I tasted the tender bitterness in my mouth, Blood flowing throughout my teeth, Felt as good as you may have felt it bad for me. Felt as good as you may have felt it bad for me…
4.
Folly Stone 03:40
Long ago, when time would be as misty as empty Some physicians would be dealing with a poor creature from whom the devil took possession of; As the rumor spread over the village The poor creature frightened the less innocent ones Those great scientists were working on uncertain experiments In a house twisted by dark bushes. But nobody did know about it, At least, nobody talked about it. He goes out at night, goes out, freaks me out… The poor creature was wandering, staggering more and more everyday His steps were losing direction, his body freezing, his look fading But nobody did know about it, At least, nobody talked about it. He goes out at night, goes out, freaks me out… A strange mellowed mood fell on people, As the poor creature lost a piece of himself. The villagers spread the rumour the physicians took the folly stone out of him Now he's gone, and they took his soul away Now he's mad, and they believe they are sane He goes out at night, goes out, freaks me out…
5.
The Painter 04:07
In a world where dreaming is a childish whim, And earning is the key, I witnessed the rebirth of the poet I had killed, Out of the blue He came back to me as a little insolent boomerang, And said to my ear: (refrain) « This war is not over, and may never end, never end, « This war is not over and may never end, never end, « But I am with you. » He finally disappeared from my path, Still the shadow of his words floating over my head, Like a cloud ready to blow up into tears of truth. (refrain) Years have passed, turns out I became the corrupted witch, As my heart turned into solid marble Fortunately I bumped into an old painter Who opened his gallery for me, Colours would resonate into the core of my heart (refrain) « This war is not over, and may never end, never end, « This war is not over and may never end, never end, « This war is not over and may never end, never end, I suddenly realized that it was the same old voice than the poet’s… « This war is not over and may never end, never end, I suddenly realized that it was the same old voice than the poet’s… « But I am with you. » Colours would resonate into the core of my heart, breaking the marbled armor into pieces … This war is not over, not over…
6.
She’s going to rise up… Lost in her dreams, walking by the sea Two glowing eyes landed on her rags Bess startled, sweet feathers floating away, “come, lady, come” the owl said, “follow me” “Revenge calls me ! Fear me now !...” Bess slowly slipped, naked in the sea The sorceress poured a potion on her skin Death gazed at me, sucking all my pride Flowers would fade, never the furies. Shake you will shake ! Witches are – back ! You will shake, you will shake, You will feel the ground shaking underneath your feet, Earthquakes everywhere, moon dust blasting, Ship of fools overthrowing the sea, Madness is here.
7.
Dead Leaf 02:42
I am a dead leaf I didn’t fall from the highest branch But a howling wind tore me away from the tree I used to dance on with others, sometimes. Here's come the fall Some feet crush on me But i no longer feel nothing, cause I am a dead leaf Green yellow red brown grey, I’m going trough every mood Now I've lost my stem, Only a few veins left, aside my pierced and crackled skin Happily, I have the winter long to disappear - peacefully, And be reborn at spring Cause i'm just a dead leaf, among the leaves, like every leaf, From a tree i ignore the roots.
8.
9.
Weirdos 03:41
Wandering in a crowded street, A tiny little boy was holding his bunny tight on his chest, Wondering where to go alone, Distress in the eyes, whispering to his destroyed one-eyed bunny: « Don’t look at them, they’re all weirdos, don’t tell them our secret » Would people care? Just a few glancing a funny look at the boy. I tried to approach the helpless creature And help him find his way home But he cried and spit on me like an angry wild cat Slowly rolling on the floor, twisting, loosing it. « Don’t look at me, I’m the weirdo, don’t tell them my secret » Would people care? Or would I be too pretentious to help the boy. His parents ran out of nowhere, followed by the whole kit, Police, firemen, doctors, ready to lock him up. I watched the scene as an absurd picture and whispered: « Don’t look at them, they’re all weirdos, I won't tell your secret » Would people care? Or would I be too pretentious to help the boy.

about

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“From France comes Folly Tales, the lovely debut album from singer and keyboard player in baroque popsters Odessey & Oracle, Bess of Bedlam. For her first solo work, however, she's traded in the psychedelic pop moves of the group in favour of an ethereal and somewhat moving folk. Magickal.” - Thomas Patterson, Shindig!

Literature and music have frequently depicted Bethlem or Bedlam as a land of fools or the Babylon of degenerates since its foundation in 15th Century London. In 1683 Henry Purcell published “From Silent Shades" - introducing “Mad Bess” to the world. Bess escaped her imprisonment to tell the tale through the veil of the English Restoration.

A resident of Lyon, Fanny L’Héritier is Bess of Bedlam. Her arrangements employ a variety of instruments (classical and electromechanical pianos, 70’s analogue synthesizers, acoustic & electric guitars, banjo & dobro) with charm, whimsy and humour.


Des compositions aux mélodies parfois alambiquées puisent leur inspiration dans la folk anglaise des années 70 (Shirley Collins, Linda Perhacs, Vashti Bunyan, Steeleye Span…), de nombreuses surprises harmoniques peuvent, elles, évoquer la pop de la fin des années 60 (The Free Design, The United States of America, Sagittarius…). Les arrangements quant à eux mobilisent une grande variété d'instruments (pianos classique et électromécanique, guitares acoustique et électrique, banjo, dobro, synthétiseurs analogiques des années 70…) qui apporte un caractère singulier à chaque morceau du disque.

Bedlam est le nom populaire donné à un hôpital pour malades mentaux fondé en 1400 à Londres. La littérature ancienne et la musique transformeront Bedlam en un pays des fous, un genre de cour des miracles british, le Babylone des dégénérés. En 1683, le compositeur anglais Henry Purcell publie dans son 4ème opus d' “airs choisis” sa version, psychédélique avant l'heure, des aventures de Bess, échappée de l'asile le temps d'une sortie champêtre et mystique.

credits

released July 5, 2019

Bess of Bedlam is Fanny L'Héritier (vocals, guitar, pianos)
All songs composed by Fanny L'Héritier
Additional instruments and arrangements by Guillaume Médioni
Recorded and mixed by Guillaume Médioni
Artwork by Juliette Zanon
Graphic design by Clara Markman

Labels : OUTRÉ (UK) 2019 / Another Record & La Société Secrète 2018

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Bess of Bedlam Lyon, France

Bess of Bedlam is Fanny L’Héritier's songs, also member of Odessey and Oracle.

Sinuous melodies can evoke English folk music (Shirley Collins, Vashti Bunyan), combined with harmonic surprises recalling pop and psychedelic folk from late 60's & 70's (The Free Design, Sagittarius, The United States of America, Colin Blunstone, Linda Perhacs, Joni Mitchell...). ... more

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