Anthill

This is a full performance of “Anthill”, the song I wrote as part of the ‘Writing A Song From Scratch’ blog series. As that ran to six chapters, there’s not much more to say about the song, its development can be charted in the links below:

Writing A Song From Scratch: Part One

Writing A Song From Scratch: Part Two

Writing A Song From Scratch: Part Three

Writing A Song From Scratch: Part Four

Writing A Song From Scratch: Part Five

Writing A Song From Scratch: Part Six

I’m very happy with the final song, and I’m developing an arrangement of it for my upcoming studio EP. As such, I’ve already recorded parts for oud, ney, tabla and extra guitar with some Egyptian musicians, and will be working on it further in December in London.

The lyrics are reproduced below – they’ve remained largely unchanged except that the bridge has been slightly expanded.

The anthill keeps growing, more teetering, hopeless homes

While teeming in their multitudes, twelve million worker drones

All of these paralysed souls, indistinguishable, all smeared in soot

The mark of the muted, well it paints us the same, from our head to our foot

 

So extend our limbs, stretch out our hands to touch

Just anything, that is not painted in dust

Reaching out for an empty space, or the contours of a friendly face

In the chaos

 

The anthill collapses, yet constructed again

Building on the bones, of its fallible men

Construction it never does stop, and if a body drops, we’ll brick it back in

Exoskeletons formed this city’s skin

While we, while we, while we

 

Extend our limbs, stretch out our hands to touch

Just anything, that is not painted in dust

Reaching out for an empty space, or the contours of a friendly face

In the chaos

 

Now I’m carried on the back of billions

Though I do not know their names

Something fossilised within us

That could still be reclaimed

They thought us worker drones did not have much to say

But they kept us busy anyway

Now the water cannons will not hold us back

They will simply wash the filth away

And if everyone of us

Could carry six times our own weight

There’s really no limit

To the utopia we might make

Oh, we’ve got to wake up

Howl some questions to the hive

If could all move in one direction

We would do more than just survive

 

So extend our limbs, stretch out our hands to touch

Just anything, that is not painted in dust

Open our minds, spit the silt from our voice

Claim everything, a separate and collective choice

Reaching out for an empty space, or the contours of a friendly face

In this anthill

Video

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