Outside Child

1. Montreal (3:45)

I give thanks for my wondrous hometown of Montreal. I was a teenage runaway – I believe in many ways the City herself protected me. I wandered the Mountain at all hours and slept in the graveyard in the summertime. I haunted the Cathedrals and slept in the pews. Sometimes I stayed up all night playing chess with the old men in the 24-hr cafes. I got to hear Oscar Peterson play for free in the park during Jazz Fest… I was very lucky to grow up there. – AR

Oh my Montreal

Can I dream of you tonight?

Of before the fall

Your rose, your azure light

Oh you Cathedrals

Your shadows felt like loving arms

I was your child, Montreal,

You would not let me come to harm

To reminisce on the times before

There were just so few of them of them

The jackal came in spring, took me

When I was still so young so young

But the mind of a child has oceans wide

And a thousand millenniums

And the city was my sky and stars

Les fenêtres de l’infini (the windows of infinity)

Hmmm hmmm

J’étais si vieille, j’étais si jeune

J’étais si jeune, si vieille

Les yeux de l’enfant voient tout, voient tout

Voient tout, voient tout, tu sais

La lumière tavelée sur les arbres

La pourriture dans la plus blanche marbre

La sagesse bouleversant

La sagesse coeur brisant

La sagesse de l’enfant

Coeur brisant

Translation: (I was so old, I was so young, I was so young, so old

The eyes of the child see all, see all, see all, see all you know

The dappled light upon the trees and the rot in the whitest of marble,

The shocking wisdom, the heartbreaking wisdom, the wisdom of the child,

The wisdom of the child, heartbreaking heartbreaking)

Oh my Montreal

Can I dream of you tonight?

Of before the fall

Your rose, your azure light

Oh you Cathedrals

Your shadows felt like loving arms

I was your child, Montreal,

You would not let me come to harm

Oh my Montreal

Can I dream of you tonight?

2. Nightflyer (4:55)

When I was sixteen I read ‘The Thunder: Perfect Mind’ for the first time - it’s an exhortatory poem discovered among the Gnostic manuscripts in the Nag Hammadi library in the 40s. It has never left me. I’ve been meditating on the nature of resilience, endurance, and grace more deeply since becoming a mother. I was trying to bridge the divide and embrace shame and my inner divinity equally with this piece. The burden and the balm of our lineages that we all carry. We all come from long lines of survivors. I believe my Ancestors must have been protecting me all along. And now my daughter carries their strength…- AR

Yeah I’m a midnight rider

Stone bonafide night flyer

I’m an angel of the morning too

The promise that the dawn will bring you

I’m the melody and the space between

Every note the swallow sings

I’m 14 vultures circling

I’m that crawling, dying thing

I’m the smoke up above the trees, Good Lord

The fire and the branch that’s burning, Lord

Maybe you were sleeping, Lord,

But Mary she’s not weeping no more, no

Yeah I’m a midnight rider

Stone bonafide night flyer

I’m an angel of the morning too

The promise that the dawn will bring you

I’m the sick light of a hurricane’s eye

I’m a violent lullaby

I’m six fireflies, one streetlight

I’m a suffocating summer night hmm mmm

I’m each of his steps on the stairway

I’m his shadow in the door frame

I’m the tap tap of a lunar moth

I’m the stale beer on his breath hmm mmm

His soul is trapped in that room

But I crawled back in my mother’s womb

Came back out with my gold and my greens

Now I see everything

Now I feel everything, good lord

What the hell could they bring to stop me Lord?

Nothing from the earth, nothing from the sea

Not a God Almighty thing

Yeah I’m a midnight rider

Stone bonafide night flyer

I’m an angel of the morning too

The promise that the dawn will bring you

I’m the wounded bird, I’m the screaming hawk

I’m the one who can’t be counted out

I’m the dove thrown into battle

I can roll and shake and rattle hmmm mmm

I’m the moon’s dark side, I’m the solar flare

The child of the Earth, the child of the Air

I am The Mother of the Evening Star

I am the Love that Conquers All

Yeah I’m a midnight rider

Stone bonafide night flyer

I’m an angel of the morning too

The promise that the dawn will bring you

3. Persephone (4:22)

An homage to my first love. We were just kids, 15 years old. Her loving kindness saved my sanity and my life on bitter winter nights when I was homeless and hanging on by a whisper. Her dark basement was a refuge and an oasis. – AR

Blood on my shirt, two ripped buttons

Might’ve killed me that time oh if I’d let him

He’s slow when he’s drunk, and he lost his grip on me

Now I’m running down la rue St. Paul

Trying to get out from the weight of it all

Can’t flag a cop ’cause I know he won’t stop…

I’ll go see Persephone

Tap tap tappin’ on your window screen

Gotta let me in Persephone

Got nowhere to go but I had to get away from him

My petals are bruised but I’m still a flower

Come runnin’ to you in the violet hour

Put your skinny arms around me, let me taste your skin

Mouth to mouth, mouth to flower

Salty sweet you give me power

I feel you shake under my lips

Your fingers tender find my secrets

Don’t make a sound, don’t cry out love

Your parents are sleeping just above

I kiss you once, I kiss you twice

Fall asleep looking in each other’s eyes

Tap tap tappin’ on your window screen

Gotta let me in Persephone

Got nowhere to go but I had to get away from him

My petals are bruised but I’m still a flower

Come runnin to you in the violet hour

Put your skinny arms around me, let me taste your skin

Light on your shoulder, light on your cheek

Light telling me it’s time to leave

The birds are calling to the morning

Your parents’ feet above us stirring

Kiss your belly before I go

Climb back outta your basement window

Back to the cold’s bite, back to the hard life

Back to the harsh bright street

Tap tap tappin’ on your window screen

Gotta let me in Persephone

Got nowhere to go but I had to get away from him

My petals are bruised but I’m still a flower

Come runnin to you in the violet hour

Put your skinny arms around me, let me taste your skin

4. 4th Day Prayer (4:11)

When I first went to live with my mother and her new husband, my adoptive father, after the foster home in Verdun- it was in a flat above an audiologist’s shop on Rue St. Catherine in Westmount. He worked for the audiologist and we got subsidized rent. It was there that the abuse began. I was 5. Westmount is a wealthy enclave - and though we were very poor - even the food banks were richer there. And there was the Park. I spent as much time as I could in that Park- to get away from him. There was an old climbing tree, much beloved, on a little island in the heart of the park- a huge old willow bent almost double- eventually propped up by poles. I was devastated to hear that it was finally felled by a storm in 2010. – A

I was the Queen of Westmount Park

It was all mine after dark

Old willow tree it was my throne

Till I till I went home

Father used me like a wife

Mother turned the blindest eye

Stole my body, spirit, pride

He did he did each night

One for the hate that loops and loops

Two for the poison at the roots

Three for the children breaking through

Four for the day we’re standing in the sun

“These are the best years of your life”

If I’d believed it I’d have died

Something told me that they lied

Oh I Oh I survived

Left home, I was just a child

Slept in the graveyard, end of the Mile

When the sun came up and found my skin

I rose I rose again

One for the hate that loops and loops

Two for the poison at the roots

Three for the children breaking through

Four for the day we’re standing in the sun

Slip streams and fever dreams

Do you see what I can't see?

Tell me tell me tell me

I want to understand

From the coast of Africa

To the hills of Grenada

To the cold of Montreal

That whip that whip still falls

One for the hate that loops and loops

Two for the poison at the roots

Three for the children breaking through

Four for the day we’re standing in the sun

5. The Runner (4:09)

I left home at 15, I managed to finish high school, start my first year at Dawson College- I worked terrible telemarketing jobs... My adoptive father continued to stalk and harass me around the city. When I was 17, I ran farther - across the country- from Montreal, QC to

Vancouver, BC. I was deeply despairing, suicidal, self-harming - and then music saved me – AR

Oh I had to run to run to run

From Mont Royale

Aux Portes des Lions (to the Lion’s Doors)

But no freedom would come my way

Yeah no freedom from

What he’d done to me

Then I heard that Rock and Roll

Outside the South Hill Candy Store

Felt myself walking in

I was up above me, I was standing right beside me - oh

And I saw my deliverance

Oh I had to sing to sing to sing

From the western sea

To the old country

Oh I had to bleed to bleed to bleed

Till his poison left my veins

Left me

Yeah I heard that rock and roll

Outside the South Hill Candy Store

Felt myself walking in

I was up above me, I was standing right beside me - oh

And I saw my deliverance

Now I still run still run still run

To catch a song

And cheat the gun

Come freedom come I pray I pray

Can’t stop me now

Can’t steal my joy

Then I heard that Rock and Roll

Outside the South Hill Candy Store

Felt myself walking in

I was up above me, I was standing right beside me - oh

And I saw my deliverance

6. Hy-Brasil (5:35)

An homage to my maternal Scottish Canadian Grandmother, Dr. Isobel Roger Robertson (the brightest light of my childhood) and her mother, Janet, whom I never met. I escaped into fairytales, myths, and fantasy as a child. I lived inside of old books and my Grandma’s eerie stories and ballads from the Old Country. She always told me her mother was “a bit Fae”. I came to realize later that my great-grandmother was probably schizophrenic, as my mother is... And who’s to say that that’s not the same thing as being touched by The Fae... Hy-Brasil was said to be a mysterious Atlantis-like legendary island west of Ireland appearing on maps from 1325 to the 1800s. In Irish myth, it was either clouded in mist or underwater except for one day every 7 years, when it became visible but still could not be reached. There are many myths and legends surrounding Hy-Brasil. In some of them, the island is the home of ancient Irish Gods and Goddesses. In others, it is inhabited by large black rabbits and a mysterious magician… “Camhanaich” is a Scottish Gaelic word meaning the half-light of dawn or dusk. I know that words can be spells. Words are magic, and so is music... – AR

My great grandmother was a magic weaver

Came across the water and caught the fever

She wondered if her mother could hear her when

She said the words she learned to say

In the blue camhanaich all shimmering still

Dame Calluna low Lady of the Hills

Cup of cold sun and a winterpill

Send me back on my way

Seven black rabbits of Hy-Brasil

21 petals of daffodils

13th note of the blackcap trill

I’ll fly home today

Down in the cradle oh I would hear her

as I breathed my soul believed if

I sang those words I could leave there

leave my sorrow and pain

In the blue camhanaich all shimmering still

Dame Calluna low Lady of the Hills

Cup of cold sun and a winterpill

Send me back on my way

Seven black rabbits of Hy-Brasil

21 petals of daffodils

13th note of the blackcap trill

I’ll fly home today

Though my brittle body was caught in his snare

My soul would learn how to travel where

The eyes of the rabbits were gleaming there

on the isle of Hy-Brasil

Seven years we drown seven years we rise

Said the black rabbit with the ancient eyes

You’ll be free, oh lura lae

He cannot match your will

In the blue camhanaich all shimmering still

Calluna low Lady of the Hills

Cup of cold sun and a winterpill

Send me back on my way

Seven black rabbits of Hy-Brasil

21 petals of daffodils

13th note of the blackcap trill

I’ll fly home today

Though I drowned for ten years, I’m still rising

Stronger for my pain and suffering

My body was broken but my heart’s reborn

I’m freer than the sky

In the blue camhanaich all shimmering still

Dame Calluna low Lady of the Hills

Cup of cold sun and a winterpill

Send me back on my way

Seven black rabbits of Hy-Brasil

21 petals of daffodils

13th note of the blackcap trill

I’ll fly home today

7. The Hunters (5:32)

So many of the old Child ballads and murder ballads resonate for me in a direct, personal way. I charged my adoptive father in 2001 - he eventually pled guilty and got a light sentence - because the judge deemed that I was relatively “unscathed” by the 10 years of sexual/physical/psychological abuse...Of course had I been more overtly “scathed” I wouldn’t have had any credibility... I also firmly believe that if he were a black man and I, a white child - the sentencing would have been much more severe... this is a dark fairytale retelling... more satisfying and cathartic than my experience with the broken and bigoted justice system. – AR

Hey papa Hey Mama

The sun is out oh can I play?

Yes my child yes my child

But do not leave the path today

Why Mama Why Papa?

The trees are my friends, as is the shade

The wolves have come down from the hills

They’re hungry and they’ll have their way

Oh Papa Oh Mama

It is of you I am afraid

The hunter and the hunter’s bride

Your teeth as sharp as razor blades

Le coeur de l’enfant est le coeur de l’univers

l’amour doré

Come bien-pringtemps, généreux, chaleureux

Mais jamais innocent

Ni complètement sans douleur

Translation (the heart of the child is the heart of the universe, golden love

like High Spring, generous and warm/kind, but never innocent, nor completely without sorrow)

Look Mama Look Papa

The wilderlands have made me brave

The wolves came down they called me kin

They gave me strength to run and chase

Oh Papa Oh Mama

I have come to break your blades

Curse you child Curse you child

We should have killed you as a babe

Yes Mama Yes Papa

You had your chance, now it’s too late

Yes Papa Yes Mama

The wolves will howl and dance today

Le coeur de l’enfant est le coeur de l’univers

l’amour doré

Come bien-pringtemps, généreux, chaleureux

Mais jamais innocent

Ni complètement sans douleur

Translation (the heart of the child is the heart of the universe, golden love

like high spring, generous and warm/kind, but never innocent, nor completely without sorrow)

Hey Papa, Hey Mama…

Why Papa, Why Mama...

8. All of the Women (5:24)

I had a day job when I lived out West. I was a front-line mental health worker for almost 7 years in the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver (aka DTES, the poorest postal code, heart of the homelessness crisis and fentanyl/opioid crisis in Canada), from 19 until I was 26. I worked for two harm reduction initiatives- the PHS - a low threshold housing society, and Insite - the first ever safe injection site in North America. Most of our residents/participants were dual diagnosis- addiction, and mental health. Many of the women in our community had histories and stories akin to mine. I was constantly afraid for the women working in the sex trade especially- I moved to Vancouver amidst the ongoing Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls Crisis- now understood to be on the level of Genocide - that was belatedly only semi-addressed by law-enforcement. It is more perilous to be a woman in every culture and society. We are seeing the devastating overlap between #blacklivesmatter, #blacktranslivesmatter and #mmiwg today. BIPOC women are leading the way out of bigotry and into true equality. Shirley was luminous and so kind to me as I got to know the parameters of my caregiving jobs, and the complex and close-knit community that I served and came to love and identify with deeply. She was indomitable and I miss her -AR

She’s been a fixture as long as I’ve lived here

On the corner most every night for the last six years

When she’s not there

I worry about her

worry about her

I think of all of the women

All of the women

Who disappear

We’ve made friendly acquaintance, sometimes we talk, she likes the way that I smile

and sing as I walk

I like her fabulous outfits, the proud way she moves, she says

"I used to be a dancer... some grace you don't lose

Some grace you don’t lose

I made some choices, some were made for me

For the way I survive - I make no apology

Everybody and somebody don’t always meet up, I’m the salvation for those left without

For those left without, those living small lies, what I provide can’t be measured in nickels and dimes, in nickels and dimes”

I ask what about the bad dates, don’t you ever get scared?

“Well I’ve had my share honey, but it’s fear I can bear, it’s fear I can bear

Cause I’m stronger than eggshells, I’m tougher than luck, I’ve never been despised so much or hit so hard, or hit so hard

I couldn't get back up

I couldn't get back up.”

She’s been a fixture as long as I’ve lived here

On the corner most every night for the last six years

When she’s not there

I worry about her

Think of all of the women

All of the women

Who disappear

9. Poison Arrow (3:58)

Going back to Montreal even for short visits was always fraught for me. My history there was too present and potent and poisonous. Something changed after I had my daughter, Ida. Being able to love her and protect her, to mother her, and give her a truly great, loving father - has been the best antidote. The beauty of my city shines for me again. – AR

Poison arrow be kind to me and I’ll be kind to you

It’s not just your poison, it’s the bow, the string

Shaft and feather too

The rush of the wind

The blue sky above

The rain that soaked the ground

To give the oleander love

Go in peace be not afraid

Roll ’em easy, Namaste

All you sad and broken travelers, come on

Poison arrow broke in my chest

But I’m in my finery

At Le Divan on Boulevard St. Laurent

Sipping dry sherry

The sun is bleeding slow

She dies in pink and blue

Etta’s on the radio

Singing trust in me in all you do

Go in peace be not afraid

Roll ’em easy, Namaste

All you sad and broken travelers, come on

Je te souhaîte la paix

Je te souhaîte l’acceptance

Je te souhaîte une deuxième chance

Et le coeur, le coeur d’un enfant

Routier Routier

Chanter! Chanter!

L’heure des miracles est arrivée

Le poison peut-être médecin

Si t’on bois une goute seulement

Translation (I wish for you peace/ I wish for you acceptance / I wish for you a second chance,

And the heart, the heart of a child/ Traveler! Traveler! / Sing! Sing! /The hour of miracles has arrived /Poison can be medicine too if you only drink a drop)

Go in peace be not afraid

Roll em easy, Namaste

All you sad and broken travelers, come on

10. Little Rebirth (4:02)

After all we’re here but a moment... We’re so tiny, we know so little... For Conni -in Memoriam – AR

Feet to the Earth

Wild birds calling

A little Rebirth

Cold pavement pressed

Against a barefoot

Can you feel the Mother moving

Through the bonds of our works?

Who have you been

Who will you be

Who are you now

What can you hear, what can you see?

What can you do

What can be done

Who can ever know

The mystery within?

Le dernier sera premier

Une belle journee

Tournesol tourne au soleil

Chanter! Chanter!

Translation (The last shall be first, some beautiful day, sunflower turn to the sun Sing! Sing!)

Dust of the Stars

Bones of the Earth

Breath of the Void

A little Rebirth

Chimes in the morning

Feet to the Earth

We’re all transforming

A little Rebirth

11. Joyful Motherfuckers (3:11)

Joyful Motherfuckers, stand up and be counted...Talking to myself too...I haven’t adequate words to express the love and gratitude I feel for my good, good man- my chosen family, partner in life, music, and daughter making/raising. I’d be wandering the wilderness still if not for you, JT. – AR

Where in the world are the

Joyful motherfuckers?

The fearless lovers, the rainbow shooters

The wild acceptors, the hopeful sinners

the gentle teachers, the true forgivers?

Les courageuses, les amoureuses, les enfants braves, les grand-mères jeunes, les lumineuses…

Translation (the courageous ones, the loving ones, the brave children, the young grandmothers, the shining ones)

If you’ve got love in your heart, but it’s way down in the dark

You better let it see the sun, this world is almost done

Grandma always told me love will conquer hate

I don’t know if it’s too late

Hey you hey you

Who you think I’m talking to?

Show ’em what you got in your heart

Blessings be upon the thief of my childhood

The ragged jackal that loveless coward

Oh my father you were the thief of nothing

I’ll be a child in the garden

Ten thousand years and counting…

Les courageuses, les amoureuses, les enfants braves, les grands-mères jeunes

Les lumineuses, petites merveilleuses

Constellations hors de temps,

Le coeur est plus grand

Qu’on soupçon.

Translation (the courageous ones, the loving ones, the brave children, the young grandmothers, the shining ones, the little wonders, constellations beyond/outside of time, the heart is more vast, the heart is more vast than we suspect/guess/imagine)

If you’ve got love in your heart, but it’s way down in the dark -

You better let it see the sun, this World is almost done

Grandma always told me love will conquer hate

I don’t know if it’s too late

Hey you hey you

Who you think I’m talking to?

Show em what you got in your heart