Son Of A Sideshow

by the james clark institute

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about

This 5 song e.p. is the companion piece to 2008's 'Sideshow Unattraction.' Recorded during those same sessions but ultimately left to be forgotten forever...until now! The sideshow must go on....

credits

released November 23, 2011

Produced by James Clark and Garry Flint.
Recorded, mixed and mastered by Garry Flint, Toronto.
James Clark - Vocals, Guitars, Harmonica, Drums, Percussion.
Vince Yue - Electric Guitars, Ebow.
Mike Zammit - Bass Guitars.
Greg Condie - Keyboards.
Andre Mair - Piano on 'Box of You.'

All songs written by James Clark.
All songs SOCAN.

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about

the james clark institute Toronto, Ontario

With a wink and a nod to the Clarke Institute of Psychiatry in Toronto (now CAMH), The James Clark Institute is the musical guise for singer and songwriter James Clark. Confronting the ghosts of his past, James spins his personal demons into witty, well-crafted pop-folk/rock tunes.

His writing is inspired by the works of Ray Davies, Elvis Costello, Bob Dylan and Michael Nesmith to name a few.
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Track Name: Splinter In The Soul
When rejection becomes obsession your whole world is consumed,
With photographs and evil laughs and her face painted on the moon.
When rejection becomes obsession you waste away the afternoon,
Listening to Beck’s ‘Sea Change’ and stepping on balloons.

When rejection becomes obsession you’re awake in the wee small hours.
Like Sinatra in ’55, over your own Ava Gardiner.
When rejection becomes obsession your disposition turns so sour.
You lose all will to live like her fading favourite flower.

Like a splinter in the soul,
The likeness is unbearable,
You only need one good pull to be free.

Like a splinter in the soul,
The likeness is unbearable,
You only need one good pull to be free

When rejection becomes obsession your blood is on the tracks,
And the walls and the bridges and anything by Bacharach.
When rejection’s your only connection to a checkered past,
You become the forgotten forgetting nothing ever lasts.

Like a splinter in the soul,
The likeness is unbearable,
Like a splinter in the soul, like a splinter in the soul.

TV’s a drug that makes you dumb but if it helps me forget you then give me some.
TV’s a drug that makes you dumb but if it helps me forget you then give me some.
Track Name: A Terrible Beauty
So she said I was gracious and gallant as she lowered the fatal mallet.
There lays her hidden talent, softening the blow.
With the jangling of the bracelet upon her wrist, she sat down to pen her alphabetical list,
Of every pathetic reason why I exist, so I laid low.

Now she’s a terrible beauty and I’m terribly stoned.

Upon receiving her parting birthday card, I checked myself into the ward,
While she left to accept her awards and her kudos and her accolades.
Forfeiting my invitation I did not receive and with the potential of being asked to leave,
I ignored the card up my sleeve and I missed her parade.

Now she’s a terrible beauty and I’m terribly afraid.

She said it’s easy to speak well of the dead,
So I have nothing but good words for her in my head.

The miles I made for my appearance in the end didn’t make any difference.
I was looked upon as interference as sure as I’m alone standing here.
I know I could have been her Hercules, but I just couldn’t get up off these knees.
Stuck in this pattern it would seem in the museum of her.

Now she’s a terrible beauty and I’m terribly scarred.
Yes she’s a terrible beauty and I’m terribly inferior
According to her. According to her.

My terrible beauty.
Track Name: Box Of You
What do I do with this box of you?
Cause although we’re through, I never threw out that box of you.
What do I do with this box of you?
Though you say we’re through, I never threw out that box of you.

Here we are last summer in Des Moines, Iowa.
On our way to Redding, California.
With your Fluevog shoes and my paranoia,
I adored ya, now I wonder what for ya!

What do I do with this box of you?
“Cause although we’re through, I never threw out that box of you.

There you sit with baby at your breast.
Dad’s Nikon capturing your tenderness.
I keep thinking here’s one for the photo contest,
So I can phone ya, don’t want to talk to your lawyer!

Christmas cards I can’t discard I’ve tried but I’m weak.
But was it really so hard for you to part with your box of me?!
Behind my face other traces of you.

I don’t recall where this particular one was taken.
And here’s my ticket from the CTA station.
Just like romance, the colours are fading.
It’s melancholia! I want to call ya!

What do I do with this box of you?
“Cause although we’re through, I never threw out that box of you.
What do I do with this box of you?
Though you say we’re through, I never threw out that box of you.
I never threw out that box of you.
I can’t throw away this box of you!
Track Name: Buckle In The Road
Buckle in the road, buckle in the road.
She came on like a buckle in the road.
Buckle in the road, buckle in the road.
She came on like a buckle in the road.

And I had no chance to swerve.
I had no chance to get up my nerve.
She came on with her dead man curves.

Buckle in the road, buckle in the road.
She came on like a buckle in the road.
Blister in the paint, blister in the paint.
She came up like a blister in the paint.

And she stirred up feelings within,
‘Til I painted myself into a corner again.
She came up like all the colours of a rainbow.

Buckle in the road, buckle in the road.
She came on like a buckle in the road.
a Bug in the system, like a bug in the system.
She shut me down like a bug in the system.

Like a virus in the head.
Like a crisis that’s been overfed.
She shut me down and I bled and I bled and I bled.

Buckle in the road, buckle in the road.
Buckle in the road.
Track Name: False Hope
If truth be told I can’t hold onto this false hope you’re giving me.
I’m growing old and I’m not sold on this false hope you’re leaving me.

Pin me to your wall until maybe you fall in love with me again.
If and when.

If truth be told I can’t hold onto this false hope you’re giving me.
I’m growing old and life’s too cold without this false hope, you’re bleeding me.

Encase me in your shadowbox in case you want to walk with me again.
But who knows when?
Not me!

Leave the door open just a crack,
In case one day I’m still intact!
And you want me back!

If truth be told I can’t hold onto this false hope you’re giving me.
I’m growing old and I’m not sold on this false hope, you’re leaving me.

Hold my breath ‘til I’m blue or until I see you once again.
What’s worse my friend?

If truth be told I can’t hold onto this false hope you’re giving me.
I’m growing old and life’s to cold without this false hope, you’re bleeding me.

Take every fibre of my soul and I’m liable to unroll and descend.
The question remains when?
Because I don’t know

Leave the door open just a crack.
In case one day he turns his back on you.
Boo hoo hoo! Boo hoo hoo!

If truth be told I can’t hold onto this false hope you’re giving me.
I’m growing old and I’m not sold on this false hope you’re leaving me.
You’re leaving me.
I know you’re leaving me behind.
So leave me alone.