Too Far From She

by Ian Bruce

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    This is a complete departure from what Fraser and I had done together. 12 Self penned songs, one a collaboration with Sandy Stanage.
    It's probably fair to say that as long as I keep recording it's unlikely I'll surpass some of his work on here. TOO FAR FROM SHE has become a folk club standard, Child On The Green I still have to sing every concert. The album, although maintaining a folk influence fluctuates between simple and fairly robust production. Superb sound by Frank Reader (Yes Eddi's brother) and Clark Sorley.
    The download includes a PDF of the album cover and booklet.
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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Please note that this is not a 180g version. This is the original vinyl originally released in 1988.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Too Far From She via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 2 days

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  • Full Digital Discography

    Get all 20 Ian Bruce releases available on Bandcamp and save 40%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Children of Blue, The Naked Truth Vol 1 Remastered, Auld Hat New Heids Vol 1, Ain't That Pretty?, Above Wild Water, Hits & Pieces (The first 30 years), Rhythm & Burns, The Demons' Dance, and 12 more. , and , .

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NICE NICE PEOPLE (Ian M. Bruce) Would you walk down the streets without personal alarms! With so many baddies with heads full of harm. They wait round every corner Waiting to maim or kill. One false flick, of an eyelid and the chances are they will! You're programmed to fear and that's what you do. You're wary of strangers as they are of you. It takes that low percentage of people that you have met. To send you forth with blinkers Making you forget. CHORUS That there's nice, nice people living all around. There's friendship and help where strangers are found. There's nice, nice people all round the world. Let's have a flag for the nice people unfurled. There's so many singers singing protest songs. Singing of their rights and other people's wrongs. One bad piece of news Another song is on the way. Their voices always fade if the news is okay. With these kind of people and the T.V. today We begin to believe that all good has decayed. So don't you let those thugs With their razors and their knives Be the strangers' random sample Throughout your lives CHORUS So next time you're walking down uncertain streets. You still be wary of people you meet. Your heart may still beat faster when you meet that somebody new But at this time remember, You're a stranger too CHORUS
THE ONE THAT MADE No. 1 (Ian M. Bruce) Open your eyes, yawn, stretch and rise As cascades of sunlight, they burst from the skies. Cool morning due encourages you To purposely find yourself nothing to do. That's how it was when I picked up the pen. Doodled in the sun for an hour and then Before I knew I was engulfed with words. I plucked from the air and put into verse. There in my hand was a new song's words And I strummed the guitar and there were the chords Next to arrive was the melody. How it fell into place was a mystery. CHORUS Now every damned night I have to sing that song Just cos it made no.1 I'd sing 'em something new but that would never do. They wanna hear the same old song. The One That Made No.1 Now a friend came by, I showed him my song. "Do it!" he says, "It can't go wrong!" I argued then that it would never have sold But to prove me wrong my song went gold. CHORUS Hip hip hooray for that lazy old day When, to my surprise, I had something to say. That old song gave me money and fame. That's why they say I shouldn't complain. CHORUS
STAN THE SINGER (Ian M. Bruce) The lazy, the tryers, the honest and liars, Ladies and children can all die in fires. Blame won't discern for the ones it admires. An artist can die without warning. And if he's a singer and writer of songs, There's tears where he never knew he belonged. Space in the hearts of his audience forms A space for the singer. Now I'm sure you will find, on the brink of your mind, A singer of stature, his name underlined. Your loyalty won't let him be undermined; His music's so good he deserves this But who is the man with the short cut career Whose songs rise above those of most of his peers! Whose voice is constantly fresh in my ears! Stan Rogers the singer. His songs are embroideries with words neatly sewn. His needle of melody stitches so strong. Deep coloured threads are his bellowing tones Singing songs of seas, ships and lovers. Stan Rogers now, he's dead I regret A giant cut down by a lit cigarette? The flames took the man we ne'er shall forget. Stan Rogers the singer. Do do do da da da de de de 'n' de etc He's gone to the sun with a million and one Of his unwritten songs that will never be sung. But, in his music, he's left us a 'son' Who sings as if from the heavens, For when he sings, 'the father' comes down And lives once again here with us on the ground. You're moved along by the undying sound Of Stan Rogers the singer.
GONE FOR THE DAY (Ian M Bruce) Two thirty a.m., I in solitude steep An hour and a half and still no sign of sleep. My mind's in a spin; my stomach feels tight. I'm one lonely soul in the night. CHORUS: How come, you're only here when I'm sleeping? Until the dawn of the day, You're here, so clear, dancing beside me. But when I awake, you're away; Gone for The Day. It's too many nights that I lie here alone. With darkness clinging like moss to a stone. I'm resting uneasy. How long will it be, Till sleep drapes its veil over me? There must be a crank in those medical schemes, Suggesting we're subject to monochrome dreams. For I can see blue eyes and long golden hair. I see every colour you wear. And then, as we're waltzing, I ask your name. On every occasion it ends up the same. My ears strain for answers as I'm left behind; With a glimmer of light through the blind.
OUR UGLY OLD BAND (Ian M. Bruce) Half an hour to take and whilst on my break I sit myself down and I smile. I raise my glass to our musical cfass Cos the band's keen together a while. CHORUS O, we're far from athletic and hardly aesthetic In fact, we're a hideous crew. But solid our sound, the best going round Even if we are painful to view.. There's Benny on bass with the funny old face. Though he shaves it and he washes it clean. It's as well his bank book don't depend on his looks He's the ugliest guy that I've seen. And there's Pete on percussion feigning constant concussion He glares as he rattles his drums. He's grey as a ghoul and when the moon is full Christ knows what he becomes. CHORUS Keybords Kenny, he's the fattest of many He fondly remembers his knees. His corporation causes consternation. It prevents him from reaching the keys And there's Larry on lead, he's tiny indeed Funny, cos the rest are quite tall. If you weren't impressed by his guitar prowess You'd swear he wasn't there at all. CHORUS Well, I play rhythm and I sing along with 'em And many happy years I've had. I'm the good looking man of an ugly old band. Well nothing is ever all bad. CHORUS
TOO FAR FROM SHE (Ian M. Bruce) We lost it all in one fierce affray. I stood not to fight and just walked away. Now I regret, I did not delay Acting on feelings I held for a day. CHORUS Fancy me, so fancy free. I'm so far from home, I'm way out at sea. That's not the way I want it to be. I'm so far from home and Too Far From She. We sail with a crew of a hundred and more. So many good men, good humour in store. We drink in a crowd when we go ashore, But I've never felt so lonely before. Six months have gone since I let her go. Time will not stand the wind shall still blow. The seas must ever fall and grow. My world will still turn but ever so slow. Living this lie is a foolish game. I've written to say she's not to blame. It crossed in the post with a letter that came. She's written to say she feels the same.
YOURS FOR THE NIGHT (Ian M. Bruce/Sandy Stanage) The stage it is your altar The hall the palm of your hand. Your fingers fold around me And my world turns to sand. Which trickles through your fingers As you sing me songs and tales That let me feel your sweet soft breath And the sharpness of your nails. CHORUS Do you use those eyes to hypnotise? Where d'ya get the power to shine? You give no more than you want to Now I'm yours for the night and you're mine. Those angry eyes. Those lovely eyes. There's no sound in the hall Except your mystical song. I could have heard a pin drop And yet far less a bomb. And though a hall apart, You've become so strangely close. You're singing from a cloud of light To which I am exposed. CHORUS And now the concert's over Applause invites you to stay. You gimme one more encore which I humbly take away. But still your secret's safe I was too engrossed to see. That magic spell you cast so well Remains a mystery. CHORUS
CHILD ON THE GREEN (Ian M. Bruce) "Child on the green, what's that you do?" "I'm turning daisies to chains and Mum they're for you!" "But Mum, I'm just playing so why do you cry? My flowers are saying, 'I'm glad you came by'." CHORUS: "Child as you grow questions will flow. The more that you ask, the more you will know. But ask of emotion, it's useless to try. Finding its reason by asking me, 'Why?'" "Child you are late. Where have you been? Your dinner is burned and your clothes are unclean." I wasn't surprised to find she was wild, But puzzled some when she suddenly smiled. "Child you are lost. Sometimes we act strange. You must understand, we can suddenly change. It's just human nature and when you are grown, You'll sometimes seem strange to a child of your own." She spoke and I listened, then went off to bed. But I always remembered the words she had said. It's been twenty years and I've a son on my knee. I've just told my son what my mum told to me.
TOP HAT'n'TAILS (Ian M. Bruce) There was never any doubt...... So, we went ahead. We took a loan to buy our home, A cooker and a bed. Our whole lives to share. Everything was so right. We knew that we would always be rich; Even if the money was tight. It was gonna be Top Hat 'n' Tails, Flowers and veils. She coulda been a sight to see. With her radiant smile glidin' the aisle. She was gonna wear white for me. She tried very hard, Her deep secret to keep. Till guilt and pain, they swam round her brain, And she started losing sleep. She told me of the man, her 'one night stand'. For an hour of fun the damage was done. An end to all we had planned. CHORUS From a rusting old Ford To the register office door. The man at her side was the one night stand She swore she'd see no more. What feelings do they share, But toleration and blame. They put pen in hand and with a golden band, The child was given his name. CHORUS
HUNGOVER MORNING (Ian M. Bruce) Consciousness creeps to the clocks crescendo. T hat alarm, will it never eno-o? My stomach's not well. My head hurts like hell And to boot, it's a bloody cold morning. oh- Let me sleep tight, I'll be fine by tonight. My head should be better by then. Oh! Let me just stay in my bed for today And I swear, "I'll drink never again!' CHORUS Never again! Never again! Aw! whisky and beer, They make me feel queer And I swear, I'll drink never again!" My blankets, they nestle like snow on the meadow. I am in comfort but wish I was dead-o. My teeth are all furry, My tongue tastes of curry, I'd tandoori just oefore bedtime. I reach out my arm to quash the alarm But the clock, it ends up on the floor. But before it can land I retract my hand And I swear, "I will drink nevermore!" Never again But prudence prevails and I steal from the sheets, Clasping my head to suppress the heartbeats. I must wake myself, I must shake myself Cos within the hour I'll be working. Let this hangover rage but I must have my wage Because money is ever so tight. I need money to spend because me and my friend, Well, we're going out drinking tonight.
WISHING FOR FRIDAY (Ian M. Bruce/ Sandy Stanage) Early Monday morning, We rise to the first of five Working days and business ways. How can we survive The stresses and strains, The racking of brains. The labouring sweating, Commuting and jetting! We wish for Friday evening. We wish our lives away. First week of the new year It feels like the days just flew. Back to work we mustn't shirk There's so much to do. Records and files, the work's in piles; Your ears are stinging With telephones ringing. We wish for Friday evening We wish our lives away. Friday at last - a week's work's past. Friday is great we can stay out late. A whole week-end with money to spend. Saturday night - past midnight Wind up Sunday - tomorrow's Monday. And every Monday morning We rise to another five Wasted days in so many ways. But somehow we survive. We wish our lives away.
WILL THERE BE A CONCERT? (Ian M. Bruce) I can't get high. No matter how I try. I'm deep in the doldrums again. I'm sinking far below. How deep can I go, Till the twist in this downward trend? CHORUS: Gipsy, oh gipsy Within your crystal ball. Can you see a future for this poor boy at all. Am I to die, gipsy, in deep misery. Or will there be a concert in remembrance of me? It takes no restraint for me not to paint, And sport ain't exactly my line. I never will invent the wonder pill. I ain't the scientific kind. When death calls to me. And my soul is set free. Will my mark have been made on the land? Will people forget? Or in grave retrospect. Mourn a soul they could all understand? Gipsy, oh gipsy, Within your crystal ball. Am I to end crawling, Or walking so tall? Am I to die gipsy, in deep misery? Or will there be a concert in remembrance of me?


My first solo release after the amicable beak up of Mrs. Bruce's Boys in 1986.
It was originally released on Vinyl (still available here) in 1989 but was very faithfully reproduced on CD in the year 2000.
There is no doubt about it. Too Far From She is my best known song and is sung by many other singers worldwide. I like that!


released January 1, 1989

IAN BRUCE - Vocals, Acoustic Guitar, Mandolin
CLARK SORLEY - Piano, Keyboards, Bass


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Ian Bruce Edinburgh, UK

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