"i was holding onto you, for a lack of anything to do"
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"i was holding onto you, for a lack of anything to do"
The Loves of Your Life - Hamilton Leithauser
The Loves of Your Life – Hamilton Leithauser
The Garbage Men Isabella Here They Come Cross-Sound Ferry (Walk-On Ticket) Dont Check the Score Til Your Ship Comes in The Stars of Tomorrow Wack Jack Stars & Rats The Other Half The Old King
After writing a pair of collaborative LPs with Rostam and former Walkmen bandmate Paul Maroon2016s I Had a Dream That You Were Mine and 2015s vinyl-only Dear…
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Hamilton Leithauser Begins a Solo Residency at the Café Carlyle Since opening in 1955, the Café Carlyle, tucked in to the Upper East Side hotel, has hosted a rotation of jazz and cabaret singers and musicians—from the legendary Bobby Brief to Judy Collins to Woody Allen—which have outlined the jacket-required dinner-and-a-show evening out in town for era after era.
#Issue 147 is out now!
Fall is here. We celebrate with Bon Iver, Hamilton Leithauser + Rostam, Opeth, and more. (Image above is of Bon Iver.)
Review • Bon Iver: 22, A Million
Review • Hamilton Leithauser + Rostam: I Had A Dream That You Were Mine
Review • Opeth: Sorceress
Review • Serpentwithteeth: Blisters — EP
Review • Gold Complex: Gold Complex
Read the issue on our website.
Proud Irene by Leithauser Maroon http://ift.tt/1Sgtn9J
Hamilton Leithauser - Black Hours - 61.4%
5 AM
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
Bad Sheep
Midnight's merely blue,
but me, me, me, I'm
through
and through
sloe, cracked soot-
on-a-boot,
nicotine spat, licorice whip.
You can scratch, scratch, scratch
but I stay underskin true
to ebony, ink, crowberry, pitch;
hoist me up by my hooves
and shake till I'm shook, I'm still
chock full of coke, fuliginous
murk.
O there's swart in my soul,
coal by the bag,
cinders and slag,
scoriac grit, so please
come, comb
through my fleece with hands pallid
as snow and watch
how they grow tarry, raven,
stygian, ashed—
or, if you wish, clean me with bleach
I won't
flinch, just char
down to a core of caliginous
marrow,
pure carbon, atramentous,
utterly piceous,
shadowed, and starless,
each clumpity clump
and eclipse of my heart raptly
re-burnishing
a woolgather dark.
-- Hailey Leithauser