I’m gonna ask you to look away
I love my hands but it hurts to pray
The life I have isn’t what I’d seen
The sky’s not blue and the field’s not green

Wait for me
Wait for me
Wait for me
Wait for me
Wait for me
Wait for me

I’m gonna ask you to look away
My broken life with never stay
Try so hard and I always lack
Days are gray and the nights are black

Wait for me
Wait for me
Wait for me
Wait for me

"I was listening to the first Black Flag album, Damaged, and some of the lyrics on that are so despairing and harsh. So I had that little piano riff and I wrote the lyrics around that - it's just a mournful song of quiet despair, strangely enough inspired by Black Flag. Theoretically, I feel like Henry Rollins could have written the lyrics, even though the song is quiet and pretty. There's nothing that's not mournful about the lyrics; there's no subtlety.

I recorded the album here in my studio on the lower east side (although 'studio' always seems like an overly grand word for a bunch of equipment set up in a small bedroom). In the past I've worked in large and small studios, but for this record I wanted to record everything at home by myself.

I have some friends/guests singing on the record. They're great singers, but unless you live in Fort Greene or Washington Heights you might not know about them, as they're relatively unknown (because I've found that working with friends is almost always nicer than working with rockstars).

I started working on the album about a year ago, and the creative impetus behind the record was hearing a David Lynch speech at Bafta, in the UK. David was talking about creativity, and to paraphrase, about how creativity in and of itself, and without market pressures, is fine and good.

It seems as if too often an artist's or musician's or writer's creative output is judged by how well it accommodates the marketplace, and how much market share it commands and how much money it generates. In making this record I wanted to focus on making something that I loved, without really being concerned about how it might be received by the marketplace. As a result it's a quieter and more melodic and more mournful and more personal record than some of the records I've made in the past.

It's also, for better or worse, all homemade, in that I recorded it at home with my friends and drew the artwork with a black sharpie on copy paper.

The videos from the album 'Wait For Me' have all been done by friends of mine who were given complete creative control. The video for the song 'Wait For Me' was done by my friend Jessica Dimmock (click here to watch it). I gave her $5,000 and complete creative control to do whatever she wanted to do, and I think it's an amazing and honest short film. I'm now having a competition to win $5,000 (plus $1,000 each to 2 finalists) to make a video for 'Wait For Me'. Thanks, moby"

Talk like we've got nothing say.
Fall like we're floating all the way.

Whisper in my ear, hold me closer my dear,
And wonder, oh wonder, what's next.

Mirrors on hotel doors.
A heat that no one could ignore.

Shake up everything you had planned,
There'll be no break-up,

'Cause were the ones who just hold hands.

Whisper in my ear, hold me closer my dear,
And wonder, oh wonder, what's next?

We live for horror films,
And never watch the sequels,
It's that thing about the first the second never equals,
Like there was that one boy,
Final year of state school,
In the field, late at night,
Backstage at the may ball,
Couldn't get him more wrong,
Fooled by his appearance,
Venom flowed so effortless,
We'd spit it so he'd hear us,
Little did we know that he was
Simply unassuming,
Every night he'd sit alone,
And paint what made him human, huh!
Chorus
Sixth form block fire escapes,
were never locked securely,
We'd sit on top smoking fags,
and drinking prematurely,
Sometimes he'd look up at us,
We weren't his interest clearly,
Eyes glazed and fixed above,
he'd dream of apple jelly,
Followed by our catcalls,
His newly found libido,
he got the guts to meet a girl,
Who promptly crushed his ego,
Near the end of lessons,
The girl he was pursuing,
Tried to kiss his only friend,
And so was his undoing,
Chorus
What could he be thinking,
What the hell was going through his mind,
Why am I surprised I always him as the silent kind,
What could he be thinking,
What the hell was going through his mind,
Why am I surprised I always him as the silent kind,
 
Michael Gira, Sonic Youth, Blondie, Smashing Pumpkins,
His set read like a note to those,
Who listened drinking Holland Gin,
Left it on her doorstep,
She went and never saw it,
By the time she got to school,
The atmosphere was morbid,
When I got out of school you didn't like me,
The look on your face was plain to see,
I heard you laughing behind my back,
Just because my jeans were black,
Hey, hey, hey-ya hey...

This is essentially an anti-suicide song written from the perspective of 2 popular girls talking about a boy who recently jumped off the roof at my sixth form college. It's also the only song when you can hear me singing acapella!

The concept is of course based on some real events which I heard about when I was at secondary school but I don't want to explain too much for fear of offending anyone's families - after all the song isn't really about someone topping themselves but more about the response of the other students which highlights what a waste of life it would of been if I - or any of my friends had allowed such short term problems such a peer-pressure to get to us.

It took me ages to get the "body hitting floor noise" right, and I spent the best part of a day diving up and down on different surfaces in the studio to get what I wanted. Lots of people think it sounds like a gunshot noise and I think I thought that too when the track was finished but I like that's a bit ambiguous.

Picture yourself in a boat on a river,
With tangerine trees and marmalade skies.
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly,
A girl with kaleidoscope eyes.

Cellophane flowers of yellow and green,
Towering over your head.
Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes,
And she's gone.
 
{CHORUS}
Lucy in the sky with diamonds,
Lucy in the sky with diamonds,
Lucy in the sky with diamonds,
Ah... Ah...

Follow her down to a bridge by a fountain,
Where rocking horse people eat marshmallow pies.
Everyone smiles as you drift past the flowers,
That grow so incredibly high.

Newspaper taxis appear on the shore,
Waiting to take you away.
Climb in the back with your head in the clouds,
And you're gone.

{CHORUS}

Picture yourself on a train in a station,
With plasticine porters with looking glass ties.
Suddenly someone is there at the turnstile,
The girl with kaleidoscope eyes.

The track began life during a late night session when James and his brother Aidan were working on various remix projects. The resulting “happy accident” is Heavy Drug an UNKLE club mix with a DFA records influence.

Heavy Drug was later reworked during the initial recording sessions for the new UNKLE album, due for release in February 2010. The revised version uses more traditional and organic live elements and is set to feature on the new album.

From the dirty guitar sounds which form Heavy Drug’s foundation, to the gradual layering that brings it to its ethereal conclusion the track has elements of the album version whilst remaining distinct.

James Lavelle’s UNKLE track Heavy Drug (Surrender Sounds Mix) was released on Aug 17 as a digital download.

our love was lost
but now we've found it
our love was lost
and hope was gone

our love was lost
but now we've found it
and if you flash your heart
I won't deny it
I promise

I promise

your walls are up
too cold to touch it
your walls are up
too high to climb

I know it's hard
but I can still hear it beating
so if you flash your heart
I won't mistreat it
I promise

I promise

our love was lost
in the rubble are all the things
that you've, you've been dreaming of
keep me in mind
when you're ready
I am here
to take you every time

oh our love was lost
lost, lost, lost, lost....
our love was lost
but now its found

ESO: Hey yo, I spit like an M16 and let them all know they can have it
That flash of magic with an imagination to match it
So catch it, it’s classic, but it will not be contained
In an industry, manmade, cuz it runs through my veins
It pumps through my brain, through my name, nothing will change
Don’t make me huff and puff and turn this fucker to flames
But enough of the games, my shadow is a tidal wave
I Idol, there’s a brighter way, fight for it night and day
I built fires, inspired to keep my hands warm
I’ve hopped through hurricanes, and stepped, stepped through sand storms
I’ve climbed cliffs so you can see what I’m dreaming
Even walked on water just to be here this evening
So here we go again I got to prove I’m no magician
To you rabbit in a hat rappers that’s clueless how I kick it
This is blood, sweat and tears, flesh and bone, a better way
A brotherhood of hope, with a megaphone at heaven’s gates

HOOK: Shoot me down, raise my head / Walk my field of dreams instead / Cuz there’s no way you will march on top of me / Not how this is going to be / Lift my feet, raise my head / Love and sweat and tears I’ve bled / Create the path I see ahead / Walk my way instead /

BLISS: Well he’s still kicking it so beautifully, bet he’s rewriting the odds
Cuz he knows it’s not the dog in the fight but the fight in the dog
See the kid couldn’t spell for shit, but could draw like a photograph
Fuck a hit, he’d rather his rhyme on the wall of a poet’s class

He digs with a phonograph, caught a flow and wrote the flavour
That archaeologist, artist, audio appropriator
Ghost Rider flaming chopper, caressing the night and
Chasing the glimpse of a forever fading fluorescent horizon
He just lights up the skies while running through this circus
With a heart full of good vibes, that’s pumping through his circuits
Live wire, high flyer, Spit Fire out his lungs
Soars a war torn Mustang through an Empire of the Sun
Catch him diving in this rhythm, rhyming, gliding in his vision
Manifest music Mementos to remind him of his mission
He just rolls like a boulder, the solider spoke with composure
With a butterfly net full of dreams hanging over his shoulder he says

HOOK x 2

Field of Dreams is the fifth single from Bliss N Eso's Flying Colours album and features Paris Wells. It is an anthemic, drum-heavy journey into the mind of three willful guys and one tenacious girl who all refuse to lose.

Paris' unique, extraordinary voice soars over the same banging snares that the renegade MCs hammer with their purposeful, almost militant delivery.

Field of Dreams is built to inspire when times are tough.

The dog, my very best friend 
I will never lose you again 
 
Where is the dog, where is the dog 
Where is the dog, I gotta find the dog 
Because the one who finds the dog 
Gets the best prize 
Where is the dog, where is the dog 
Mum has hid it, dad takes the time 
And if you don't find the dog 
there won't be a prize 
and no chocolate 
no cake 
 
Hotter 
Colder 
It is hard enough as it is 
Higher, lower 
Bird, fish or turtle 
 
It is hard to find it 
When it is so small 
Have you looked behind the plant 
And in the bottom drawer 
 
The dog, my very best friend 
I will never lose you again 
 
The dog, my very best friend 
I will never lose you again 
 
The dog, my very best friend 
I will never lose you again

Rip up the floorboards you have in your home
You can take to the side streets on nickels and loans
Find your way sipping on saline and lemonade
Jumping off cliff sides in northern bays
Hope your dollars dance

Leave forsaken towns
To see the world go round

Routine is rapidly pounding her post
Can't you stay in the moment that needs you the most?
Look away sing for salvation from day to day
Reading the manual on slow decay
There's always a chance

Leave your love, your life
To see the world go by

King of his scene
In love with conspiracy
He goes out of his way
To shake up the mess he makes
Oh yeah he's so different
Like a blooming flower in the distance
 
His pride, it drips from
All the things he shows off
In his attempt to behave
Like a star due an early grave
Singing in whispers
I tried to save his soul
But he never listens
 
For he's
The lost boy
 
Always roaming around
Through darkness and through the town
Eyes so charcoaled
And afraid
Determined to find his way
Talking for hours
Each time that he insults me
I remember
 
That he's
The lost boy

So Nudie Slims aren't killing babies yet?
Then shoot it up and lose your self control!
Get over it, and smash that mirror,
throw it out the window now.
Fuck your leopard skin eyes and look,
leave reality on the floor,
you know the party welcomes you,
Come in the music started here.
 
Turn it up till the beat gets louder
Swell the tone until you feel the drop
Girls! Boys! Dance harder! Faster!
Noise, noise! Throw your Nikes out the door.
 
Don't you know you're nothing now?
You're just a smaller version of the real thing.
Fuck your scene, the insipid fares,
Eat your cigarettes, no one cares!
Trashy glamour, thrown down the stairs,
paint your bedroom a neon sky
On your knees,
Your skin is a disease!
 
Turn it up till the owners freak out
fucking party till your ears bleed
Girls! Boys! Dance harder! Faster!
Don't wait, throw the models out the door.
 
Rip it up, mess it up, fuck it up NOISE NOISE
Cut it up, line it up, snort it up NOISE NOISE
Rip it up, mess it up, fuck it up NOISE NOISE
gag her up, choke him up, smash them up NOISE NOISE
 
Turn it up, till the fuckers pass out,
they can't party till night is day
Girls! Boys! Dance harder! Faster!
Don't wait, throw the models out the door.
 
Turn it up till the beat gets louder
Swell the tone until you feel the drop
Girls! Boys! Dance harder! Faster!
Don't wait, throw the models out the door.

Nikee is a song we wrote after seeing the impact of a rare strain of neurovirus on one of the trees in my backyard that has an ant colony living inside it. Obviously, the ants need to harvest the leaves of the tree to survive and to build small ant mansions for the ant bosses of the colony. Since the turn of the century, ant monarchies have been increasing replaced with ant oligarchies and it is these oligarchs that require lavish mansions to deal with the stress of coordinating between five hundred-thousand and one million ants per day. The neurovirus attacked the core of the tree and the tree stopped producing leaves which made the ant bosses so stressed they started eating the workers of the colony. Understandably, the workers did not appreciate this and rose against their oppressors in the first ever socialist ant revolution.