by Roger Doyle

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Nade 08:23
You Not You 04:14
CBG 04:10
I Antigone 05:18
I Antigone Stubborn girl My uncle said I’ll knock the stuffing Out of you Teach you manners If it’s the last thing I do I only want to bury him I said The brother the one who Fought on the wrong side My father was a hard man Vain about his empty Eyes after He got over it Jocasta swinging from The wardrobe door My Mother His Mother My Father My brother It is not easy Being the sister Of your Father Or know your Mother made the Hump backed beast With her son Your brother Your father Little daughter Sister Lead me on To the grove Of the red clawed Furies Where I will become A God That’s all he wanted My dad To be God I grew up in a swamp Thebes of the Mosquitos And the endless plague Dungeons for the slaves The minotaur and the Sphinx They had tea down in the caves Broke bread and ankle bones Shared stories of carnage And creation Destruction Sphinx is lonely she said Lonely among the bones And the entrails sucked Dry And Minotaur Half man Half bull Swatted the flies With his human tail Last living of the Species not homini Not bovini Not anything Really As Sphinx Pucks his matted head With her clotted mane I was just a girl Haemon’s babe Creon disapproved You can do better My son Than this tainted Upstart With her cross eyed Gaze But Haemon Loved me Loved I could Talk a storm Had an answer For everything Creon said I argued like a man. Like a man.
Blood on their Hands Blood in their Gaze Still he Invited them in He served up The dinner Like a good host They served him up for Breakfast He never said a word The beautiful Neanderthal Last of his Species The butterflies Sang the dirge Ah ah Transhumant Licked His lips Raped the Babies till the Snow passed.
All that had Passed I saw a Blue sky A blazing Sun And tears of Blood in My old man’s Phantom eyes That flies Midges Mosquitos Drank from And I thought We make up The stories we Need to Because we Are terrifying We Homo Sapiens My Mother Hung herself Not a word Wrapped the chord How long had She known You don’t sleep With your own son And not hear The awful truth About yourself Or maybe it Was like Coming home Familiar Comfortable Warm All the lights on Fire dying All safe in their Beds Your infant son You left on the hill Reborn At your breast Again But his heels And his shoulders And the shape of His head And your mouth On your mouth Kissing yourself Where have you seen Those eyes before Navy as a newborn This ravenous wanderer Besting the sphinx Limping to your door Victorious To claim his Queen Dry eyed widow Of Laius The Pederast. [wordless singing]
Lia Lucra 06:37


Here is a place which you can visit from time to time and listen to a changing showcase of new tracks and tracks from recent albums...

Music composed, engineered, endlessly revised and produced by Roger Doyle ℗ and © PRS/MCPS 2012/20.


released September 20, 2020

Track 1 is taken from the album The Thousand Year Old Boy;
Tracks 2-3 featured on the album The Electrification Of Night;
tracks 4-5 are on Homemade Ivory Dreams;
tracks 7-9 are from iGIRL;
track 6 is from HERESY;
track 10 is on the album Grandfather Clock;
track 11 is from Frail Things In Eternal Places
Track 12 previously unreleased and re-discoverd in a good recording Dec. 2020. Recorded 1984.
Track 13 is from my first electronic opera Heresy


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Roger Doyle Ireland

Roger Doyle – composer, keyboardist and producer of own music, in concert and in the studio. Likes to work on large projects and to collaborate with others. Works with a multiplicity of musical languages and evolving technologies.

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