"For this special episode we're back at West Hampstead Arts Club celebrating the launch of Potenco's debut album.
On the night Rob gave a stunning performance which will be available to listen to at some point, but for now stream this stunner of an album in all the place you stream your music.
'Historical Slang' perfectly captures life as a father in your 40's trying to work out your place in the world and how to find joy in family and the simplicities of life. It's a gorgeous album and Rob is a very special talent.
Always happy to make things about me, I also hosted a Q and A with Rob which you can watch and listen to right here.” William Hann
Curiously enough named after a favourite book of mine!
William Hann’s 'This Album' Podcast Live Q & A with Potenco at West Hampstead Arts Club
I may be biased but this song seemed especially catchy as in it has stayed with me (ear worm anyone?) it may be the subject but I LIKE IT! . . . . . . remembrances of what it is to be a father to small people and hurling them into the air (safest place in the world - Daddy’s hands!) This is the second release from Potenco’s forthcoming album - so watch this space as we say!
‘Sleepwalking’ - Potenco
this may or may not feature several of my favourite people in the world . . . . .
Red Kite is the debut single by Potenco. It was written, recorded, mixed and mastered in Kidlington, Oxfordshire. It is a song about raptors, and recovery, and family, and backwards guitars. It was written in 2015, but it took Potenco a decade to record and release it. The reasons for this are unclear, but likely include children, capitalist realism, ADHD, and a general sense of dread. It took a shoulder operation and surprise unemployment to get things moving. For fun, and because some people can only do things it’s they’re unnecessarily difficult, Red Kite was recorded and mixed on a 2007 MacBook held together with duct tape.
lyrics
RED KITE
There's a knife in your sail and a fork in your road
And the wind on your belly and sun on your backbone.
In the distance you see it's all swaddled in green
And the blue of the sea never flows where your kin go.
Soar so high, talking to yourself at night
You wish you did, but you don't know why.
And if you won't fly, then I won't fly.
You don't mind, then I won't mind.
My red kite's gonna be alright
Ain't no one gonna save me.
There's a lift in your throat and a hole in your bones
As the hunger you wrote wheeled away in the whitest light.
You were few on the rope but to hunt is to hope as the swallows and moles
Dance their waltzes in 3/4 time
Blood drips white, grinding on your teeth at night