Includes unlimited streaming of Monarch
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
Sold Out
Monarch T-shirt
T-Shirt/Apparel
"I've got a lot of shirts, but this one is my favourite." - some guy with a lot of shirts, probably
Sold Out
about
Over the last year I've been experimenting with writing spoken word poetry in addition to more conventional songs, and I've been loving it. I really value the freedom that spoken word gives me as an artist to express ideas and feelings in such a raw and powerful way. This track is a great example of that, as it deals with a subject I've been trying to express in song for years now, but have been unable to fully capture in lyrics until now.
I have been using internet pornography regularly since I was fourteen, but it wasn't until I was eighteen that I realised I was addicted. And that addiction has taken so much from me in the years since. It's affected my faith, the way I look at women, the way I look at myself; it's brought me some of the most soul-crushing guilt, self-condemning frustration and distressing anxiety I have known; it's altered my brain on a physical level and filled it with images I can't erase, but wish I could. And I've been actively - well, mostly - trying to break free of the grip it's had on me for years now, but it seems like that's easier said than done. Earlier this year I had five weeks clean, but right now I'm barely on one, and there have been days in between where twelve hours seemed like an achievement.
And the more I talk to other people about this - particularly other men, but I know better than to think we're the only ones who share in this struggle, much less the effects it has - the more I realise I can't afford to be silent about it. I know for a fact that more than nine in ten men have used pornography, and that around half of us have a real problem with it. And I know for a fact that those statistics don't change by much when your sample size is within the walls of a church. But I've spent years of my life in churches surrounded by people who were going through the same struggle as me, yet who were too afraid to open up about it because of what they thought people might think of them if they told the truth. And because of that I believed I was the only one going through what I was going through. And the weight of bearing that guilt alone crushed the hope out of me for the longest time. But I can't really blame the people around me for not speaking up, because they probably felt the same way. Because NOBODY was speaking up.
Well, this song is my way of speaking up. My prayer is that it reaches even one person who's in that place and encourages them that they're not alone and that there is still hope. If that happens, it would mean more to me than all the sales and compliments in the world.
lyrics
When I was fourteen years old
I met her for the first time
and she turned my world upside down
You know
in the beginning, I didn't care for her much
to be honest
She was strange
unfamiliar
and a little frightening
But we gave it time
and soon enough she got underneath my skin
It's funny how that happens
It’s funny how I was afraid:
afraid to tell my family and my friends about her
I mean, I wasn't sure they'd approve
They were old fashioned
and set in their ways
But she was radical,
and differential,
unlike anything I'd ever experienced
Girls like her and boys like me
weren’t meant to be together
So I kept her to myself
and our secret was safe
When I was sixteen years old
I gave my heart to another
And whatever I may have been
I was never one for playing games
So I told her we were through
and figured that would be the end of it
It seemed easy enough to let her go
Easy, in that she never truly left
But stayed,
lurking,
Prowling around the flimsy door of a relationship that,
before too long,
gave way to welcome her with open arms
It's funny how that happens
It’s funny how it wasn’t me
I swear, it wasn't me,
but the one I loved
who encouraged me to let her join us
And I can see how that might seem like a pathetic excuse,
but it's the oldest one in the book
And it's the best I've got
So when seasons changed
and my lover finally left me
She was already there,
waiting,
patiently,
to claim all of me for her own
And I was only too willing to let her
When I was eighteen years old
I found a new love unlike any I had ever known
I felt a new feeling words could not describe
I met new friends who became like family
And I came to realise
As though for the first time
That she was no good for me
So I determined to leave her for good
And I’m sure I meant it at the time
Oh God, I swear I meant it but I just wasn’t strong enough
I wasn't strong enough
And she wouldn't.
Stay.
Gone.
It's funny how that happens
It’s funny how she made me believe
Believe that she was the only one who had my best interests at heart
and it was the rest of the world I couldn't trust
Convinced me I’d be free
if only I’d surrender to her lust
So I took her back again
and her desire was for me
I locked those gilded bars behind us
then she threw away the keys
And we spiraled down, down, down together
into depravity
And she carved her name
Into my neurons
Gently at first, but she did it over and over again
And by the time we’d had our thousandth rendezvous
I got to the point
Where to go a day without her would be to make myself suffer
Where I couldn’t fall asleep at night without her
Where I knew only one cure for all of life’s ills
And she was it
And if she couldn’t cure it
Well at least she could make it bearable
And if everyone else is doing the same thing
Well then that must mean it’s normal
And I’m not really an addict
And I can keep hurting myself again and again
and pretending that it’s good for me
Well I don’t know about you
but that suits me just fine
When I was twenty years old
the light started breaking through
And not long after twenty one
I could truly say I knew a peace so deep, so wide
a joy that surely must be true
Yet even in this newfound grace
She still retained her place
It's funny how that happens
It’s funny how I wrote,
Oh, how I wrote I knew that weight had passed
yet still she dragged me down, so
What of the freedom that I claimed and this
new purpose I had found
What good were these to call my own
With every day a battle
ending, eventually, in surrender
Well I'm not sure
But now I'm twenty four and counting
and still she haunts me
And I've got brothers and sisters who bear her scars too
And we keep on ripping them open
before they have the chance to heal
But I want to believe that they can still heal
We need to believe that they can still heal
And if nothing else, to believe in this:
You see, I've got a friend who's quite the surgeon
He says he knows how to mend people who are broken
Knows how to comfort us
And stitch up our self inflicted wounds
So I entrust myself to his knife
Hoping against hope
that, by his hand, mortified
I may yet walk in newness of life.
The second EP from Northern Irish singer-songwriter Bea Stewart runs from gentle folk to pillowy pop ballads, all perfectly executed. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 15, 2024
Percussionist and sound artist Riccardo La Foresta joins musician and producer James Ginzburg for a fluid collaborative experiment. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 4, 2024
