love handles

by seven years behind

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these are songs about weight issues and being a leech.


released June 1, 2014

simon gibbons- acoustic, electric, bass, vocals, other
ed poole- electric, vocals, other
connor dickson- drums, production, mixing
nick daniel- production, mixing
matthew daley- production, mixing, mastering
recorded at canvas sound studios/clearway recording studios
artwork by stuart bulman of BETA-CVN art.
mastered by utc studios and clearway recording studios
photography by darian yeo

a big thank you to everyone who stuck by me in times of trouble, self-deprecation and sheer laziness. all the thanks in the world to maelle, ed poole, coffee + cigarettes, silence your critics, duncan ewart, addistock, matt mccall, darian yeo, jay morrison, just by chance, the parents, connor and nick at canvas sound, matty at clearway, stuart at BETA-CVN, and everyone else for helping ME keep IT real. and for being massive legends/awesome. pandas pandas pandas.



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seven years behind Liverpool, UK

purveyor of whinge-rock from liverpool, uk.

trying not to go extinct.

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Track Name: love handles
i have not, I have not been looking after myself, i am lost in a sea of amber hue, without a paddle, without a paddle, i am frantically thrashing my way to any shore, but without guidance, without guidance, i guess i don't really know where I'm going at all, i'm not feeling well, i'm not feeling well; that's not really anything new.

and i can't justify, i can't justify, the weight i'm carrying around these days, and yes i realise, yes i realise, that complaining about it won't change a goddamn thing, and all the world is mad, all the world is mad, i guess i fall into that particular category. one more word from me, even if you're not really my problem anymore.

you will never really know me, 'cos even i don't know the real me

and everything is wearing thin, and the clothes I still wear they just don't fit. and everything is wearing thin, and the clothes you bought for me, they still don't fit.
Track Name: bottom feeder
and this flush of youth has left me, still arrogant but aware, as a man i am second best, and as a lover hard to please. i am just a bottom feeder, i spit black into the brine, i hide away from light and science, and i drag divers into the deep.

i consist on meat and misery, i cause and lap it up, my ambition is capped by laziness, and i'm critically missing a heart. i guide with a golden light, but only to deeper seas, there i wait for the end of days, in the safety of this shell.

and i'll be fine on my own, still arrogant, but confused, i'll be fine on my own, i'll rest at the bottom of the deep.