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by Findlay Napier

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  • Glasgow
    Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Findlay Napier's'Glasgow' album. CD in triple gatefold case . Includes 12 page booklet with lyrics and information for each song.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Glasgow via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

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Young Goths in the Necropolis Findlay Napier Up there in the graveyard where all the weirdos go I saw you making footprints in the freshly sprinkled snow You trampled out a pentagram, arms wrapped about your chest Through the spires to the islands you stared out to the west Up there in the graveyard the city of the dead You were lady mayor and I did everything you said You summoned all the demons but none of them appeared Snow melted in the afternoon, the magic disappeared A genius of memory We walked among the stones I felt your fingers touching mine I felt safe and free When he wasn’t talking with the birds or ringing on his bell St Mungo fished for salmon at the bottom of this hill Here in the Necropolis, John Knox disapproves Of all your shouting and your pacing and your god with horns and hooves We waited on the bridge of sighs for you to check your phone Your mother came to pick you up, then she drove you home I walked up past the gravestones, looked back out to the west I listened to the hoodie crows and wondered what comes next
Wire Burners 03:02
Wire Burners Findlay Napier & Boo Hewerdine It’s a regular nine to five It’s the way that we survive The only way to stay alive Wire burners You might see us on the street But our eyes will never meet You will never see us greet Wire burners How I came to be this way I couldn’t care, all I can say Tomorrow will be like today And everyday Followed a rainbow over the Clyde To the fireplace on the other side In plain sight is where we hide Wire burners Pushing trolleys through the town With the scrap that we have found Daylight ghosts that walk around Wire burners And I know this much is true For wire burners old is new But for the grace of God we’re you
Marchtown 04:19
Marchtown Emma Pollock Let’s walk down to Marchtown Before it became home To the soil not yet built on And the factory gates To the Lands of Westfield while they sit and they wait For the breaking of new ground No squalor in Marchtown Where the sinners repented To the station dismantled Through the gate we reclaimed From the bushes and trees on which we carved our names With all limbs entangled She lost the fight in spite of crossing palms with silver And neither sister nor the bell and fish would save her In defence of adulterous Queens It’s goodbye to Marchtown What have they done Marchtown? They’ve crowded and cut you up Pushing in the people till the sirens ring Hands over their ears cause the walls are too thin And change makes a strange sound But I’m seeing signs that I’m losing my mind Stuck in Marchtown It’s fine Just not every day, All this green, what a wonderful scene But why is it that I only see red today? Got to get away In this pocket of plenty I’m rescued from roaming I have surely lost count of the houses I’ve known But this one I count on cause this one is home No more running on empty
St Anthony’s Digging a Hole Findlay Napier St Anthony stands shovel in hand Unbroken ground lies before him A forest of stones of long buried bones St Anthony cuts off the turf St Anthony passes the time of the day Looks out on a landscape with love He sees the things the end of life brings St Anthony shovels out soil He watches hearts break, he takes the strain He waits till it’s all over You don’t know how deep it gets Till you work down in the hole St Anthony’s digging a hole So Anthony dreams of a box lined with lead They’ll never forget about him When the party has gone after he’s weighed them down For the last time he fills in a hole
Glasgow 03:44
Glasgow Julia Doogan Streets get ready for another fight Between the boys in blue and green and white And they sing along to the same old songs Saying one is right, the other is wrong They want nothing more than the winning score tonight The will scream and shout and they will drink on through the night Oh Glasgow I’m coming home Wind it whistles all around And through the streets up in the town Past the ballroom and the boats And the River Clyde as she flows And the girls and boys they’re all out in force tonight They will chance their arms for a shot of love at first sight She don’t make no fuss about the places I have seen She don’t care too much about where I’ve been
Cod Liver Oil and the Orange Juice Ron Clark & Carl McDougall Well oot o' the East there cam a hard man Oh-ho, a' the way frae Brigton Ah-ha, glory hallelujah Cod liver oil and the orange juice Went intae a pub and he cam oot paralytic Oh-ho, VP and cider Ah-ha, what a hell of a mixture Cod liver oil and the orange juice Does this bus go tae the Dennistoun Palais? Oh-ho, I'm lookin' fur a lumber Ah-ha, glory hallelujah Cod liver oil and the orange juice In the dancin' he met Hairy Mary, Oh-ho, the flooer o' the Gorbals Ah-ha, glory hallelujah Cod liver oil and the orange juice Aw noo Mary, are ye dancin'? "Oh no, it's just the way I'm staunin'" Ah-ha, glory hallelujah Cod liver oil and the orange juice Well then, Mary, yer one in a million, "Oh-ho, so's yer chances!" Ah-ha, glory hallelujah Cod liver oil and the orange juice Well then Mary, can I run ye hame? Oh-ho, I've got a pair of sandshoes, "Ah ha-ha, ye're hell of a funny!" Cod liver oil and the orange juice Well, doon through the back-close, an' intae the dunny, Oh-ho, it wasnae fur the first time, Ah-ha, glory hallelujah Cod liver oil and the orange juice Then oot came her mammy - she was goin' tae the cludgie, Oh-ho, I buggered off sharpish, Ah-ha, glory hallelujah Cod liver oil and the orange juice Noo Hairy Mary's lookin' for her hard man, Oh-ho, he's jined the Foreign Legion Ah-ha, Sahara unner ra camels, Cod liver oil and the orange juice Then Hairy Mary's had a little baby Oh-ho, it’s faither's in the army Ah-ha, glory hallelujah Cod liver oil and the orange juice
A Walk Across the Rooftops Paul Buchanan & Robert Bell I walk across the rooftops I follow a broken thread Of white rags falling slowly down Flags caught on the fences I walk across the rooftops The jangle of St Stephen's bells The telephones that ring all night Incommunicado The traffic lights are changing The black and white horizon I leave the quiet redstone And walk across the rooftops I walk across the rooftops On graduation day To look for independence, Yeah! The lights are always changing The black and white horizon I leave the redstone building And walk across the rooftops
There’s More to Building Ships Findlay Napier There’s more to building ships than smashing champagne off the stern Than royals and the crowds and the blaring of the horn There’s someone counting pennies and there’s someone needs new shoes And there’s someone up the pawn-shop buying back their weekend suit There’s more to building ships than nostalgia, ache and pride Of watching hulks slide down the dock and turn into the Clyde There’s ten guys in the hospital, four men in the ground And everyone worked there breathed that dust into their lungs And everyone worked there breathed that dust into their lungs There’s more to building ships than shaping steel into a hull There’s labourers and managers, flying flags and fighting wars From the draughtsman in the office to the man who welds the plate Everyone among them should get fair and equal pay It’s more than building ships it’s their every working day They stand there on the dockside and they watch them sail away There’s someone in the government who wants to make their name They scupper it and cut it, and the unions take the blame They scupper it and cut it, and the unions take the blame They watch them sail away.
The Locarno, Sauchiehall Street 1928 Findlay Napier & Boo Hewerdine Alex and Cecilia won in 1928 They were the perfect couple in the hall When the music played it’s like their souls took wing I could have sworn they floated six feet above us all I’d do anything if I could win But I am stuck with you Locarno, Locarno Where people come to dance To get lost and to be found I chose you for your childlike face, your red and rosy cheeks Now you look like a butcher who’s been at all the beef I don’t know why I bother, I thought it would be fun But you only keep time when you beat the Pope off your bass drum I’d do anything, to dance with him But I am stuck with you Locarno, Locarno Where people come to dance To get lost and to be found Locarno Locarno There’s only so much love to go around I know they’re not married, if her husband only knew I caught them in the cloakroom doing what young lovers do But there’s no place for jealousy, when you’re dancing for a prize How can they help falling into each other’s eyes I’d do anything, to go home with him But I am stuck with you
King Kong’s Visit to Glasgow Michael Marra Kong’s up in Red Road he wants to mend his ways He’s using fist fulls of jumbo jets to wipe the tears from his face And enter an angel with a shamrock on her thigh And a liking for great big monkeys with tears in their eyes And she said come and see the Celtic You will love the way they play But if this team is to flourish don’t kill McStay She repeated to him pure don’t kill McStay So he bumps into the floodlights the crowd begin to sing Why don’t you take him to Ibrox we think he might blend in And keep away from the People’s Palace with his big and clumsy ways Come with me to The Perfect Beat but don’t kill Josef K She repeated to him don’t kill Patrick Cane The next thing he knows he’s a husband with a wife and children too Now I’m a husband with a wife and kids and it’s all thanks to you And he turned and he waved from a jumbo jet, a tear was in his eyes Down there smiling was this little angel with a shamrock on her thigh And he waved them all goodbye, he winked and waved them all goodbye
The Blue Lagoon Findlay Napier & Boo Hewerdine Down to Central Station That’s my destination My heart would soar like a child’s lost balloon I fell in love in the Blue Lagoon So I would queue there And I’d spend my bus fare Just in the hope that she’d notice me too I fell in love in the Blue Lagoon I was just a boy Never caught her eye Another fish to fry From Thursday to Sunday I would make my way There’s nothing else that I’d rather do I fell in love in the Blue Lagoon … in the Blue Lagoon


In 1997 I moved from the banks of the River Spey to the fourteenth floor of the Red Road Flats in Springburn. I was born in Glasgow and had visited the city periodically over the years, the Garden Festival in ‘89 and City of Culture in ‘90 being particular highlights. I remember the buildings being black. I remember being jostled by the people on Buchanan Street. I remember the sound and the shoogle of the Clockwork Orange. I remember the people and their patter. I remember it like the first time I watched Blade Runner. I remember it like the first time I saw Billy Connolly.

Mostly I witnessed Glasgow from afar. On the telly it was a place full of humour: Francie & Josie, Naked Video and Rab C. Nesbitt. Taggart, bookended with Maggie Bell’s ‘No Mean City, was Glasgow’s darker side.

I heard the music, I even sang some of the songs; street songs, folk songs, mimicking Frankie Miller’s Tennent’s selling growl or howling along to City to City on long car journeys north. Yet I was so out of touch with the city’s music I didn’t know that Del Amitri bloke with the leather trousers off the telly was from Glasgow. Rab Noakes’ Standing Up introduced me to The Blue Nile and Michael Marra. I came round to The Bard of Dundee very quickly but I confess it was years before I understood the wonder of those four immaculate albums by The Blue Nile.

By ‘97 Glasgow was undergoing a kind of spring cleaning for the forthcoming City of Architecture. It was the gleaming champagne and red sandstone promised land. I was seventeen and about to enroll on the first ever BA in Scottish Music at the RSAMD. ‘Jock Hawk’s Adventures in Glasgow’ would be a good soundtrack for the next few years of my life in Glasgow, that or ‘Erin Go Bragh,’ a clueless country bumpkin falling in every pitfall the big smoke had to offer.

After graduation it never occurred to me to leave Glasgow. It became my home. I’ve been here for almost exactly twenty-one years to the release date of this album. I’ve lived all over the place, mostly in Dennistoun and Haghill, a year on North Street (above The Bon Accord), a year in Bridgeton, some time in Cathcart and I am now settled in Pollokshields. First I was staying here, then I was living here, now this is my home.

This album is for Glasgow and for the fantastic people I’ve met; unique formidable characters like Big Jim McKenna who told me before walking on stage one night that, “No-one wants to hear you singing your own fuckin* songs. Your sad fuckin songs about your boring fuckin life. They want to hear something they know. Maybe something about their home. Mix them up a bit.” He liked my songs though. He told me when I came off stage. He said I should learn that Hamish Imlach song. I fuckin did.

*In Glasgow swearing is considered a form of audible punctuation


released October 13, 2017

Findlay Napier- Guitar, Vocals
Boo Hewerdine- High Strung Guitar, Piano
Donna Maciocia- Backing Vocals

Produced by Boo Hewerdine
Executive Producers Jennifer Haase and Peter Napier

Recorded by Chris Pepper at Motherlode Studio, Norfolk
Foley Recorded by Findlay Napier, Alasdair Pettinger, Stephen Quigley and Andy Gardner
Mixed by Chris Pepper at Saltwell Studio
Mastered by Paul Savage at Chem 19
Design by Martin Rowsell at Simply Marvellous Music
Cover Photo by Raymond Depardon, Magnum Photography
All other photos by Richard Crawford, Precious Productions

Findlay Napier plays a customised Moon 0003 guitar fitted with a Vanden Mimesis Kudos Blend pickup.

Gillian & Lucy Napier, Peter & Marie-Louise Napier, Boo & Audrey Hewerdine, Seonaid & Mark Daly, Donna Maciocia, Ben Adey, Chris Pepper, Emma Pollock, Sue Wilson, Julia Doogan, Karine Polwart, Eddi Reader, John Douglas, Celtic Connections, Rab Noakes, Martin Hadden, Euan Burton, Iain Thompson, Iain Sloan, Hamish Napier, Siobhan Miller, Louis Abbott, Kirsty ‘Cafe’ Fitzgerald, Bella Hardy, all at Moon Guitars, Simon Thoumire, Alice Marra, Chris Sherburn, Gail Cooke, Adam McNaughton, Eric Grant, Anne Neilson, Richey Carey, Jim & Maxine Soars, Roddy Hart, Ruth Hoffmann and finally all the folks on Facebook who suggested Glasgow songs. I always forget someone important. If I have forgotten you please write your name in this gap...

Thanks to all who contributed to the Glasgow album Kickstarter. Special honorable mentions to Alan Ritson, Robert Rhead, Gerry Weir, Mike Rawlins, Mike & Kirsty Shilson, Ken & Lizzie Hare and Neil Sutherland.

Findlay Napier plays a customised Moon 0003 guitar fitted with a Vanden Mimesis Kudos Blend pickup.


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Findlay Napier Glasgow, UK

One of Scotland's finest songwriters. In 2021 he was nominated for Musician of the Year at the Scot’s Trad Music Awards and in 2018 he was the first solo act to be nominated for Live Act of the Year. Described as Micheal Marra meets Elvis Costello, a Caledonian Loudon Wainwright or a Scottish James Taylor this master storyteller's songs are full of earthy humour, hopeless love and biting satire. ... more


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