Angie Contini

Angie Contini

 Sydney, New South Wales, AUS


Angie Contini is a songwriter living in Sydney, with a diverse background in music, dance and theatre. With an eclectic repertoire, Angie draws from the roots of jazz & blues, old-world folk, indie songwriter rarities, and spacious soul/groove improvisation.
Angie’s new album, ‘The Man With the Pears and Other Tales’, released in February 2010, is the completed collection of fables that began as ‘The Theatre Project’ in 2008, and features Leonie Cohen (piano), Stan Valacos (double bass), Nigel Date (guitar), and Tim Bradley (drums).

Angie’s live performances include the Manly Jazz Festival, Darling Harbour Jazz Festival, Royal Easter Show, ASSG Awards, Randwick Races, Sydney Harbour Awards, and local Sydney venues such as The Rocks Square and The Opera Bar.

Original song credits include:
‘Picnic in the Cemetery’ – Goa Chillout Zone 2 compilation album - Woa Records (India/US) released August 2009
‘Don’t Tell Me Love Doesn’t Matter’ - Jazz Fest 2008 compilation album (USA),
"The Highway Song" - Honourable Mention in the 2007 Singer/Songwriter Awards (US)
& semi-finalist in the 2007 International Songwriting Competition.

Other works, have been featured on overseas radio, online streaming stations and music programs such as The Uptown Jazz Network(NY), Kanaljazz (France), Women of Substance Radio(US), Sydney’s Eastside Radio and The Independent Coffee Network(US).
All tracks recorded at Megaphon Studios, St Peters Sydney with Steve Mcmillan, mastered at Reaktor Studios with Steve Wilson.

Angie is currently studying music, film and philosophy at the University of Sydney.


the highway song

Written By: Angelee Contini

I know I’m bored,
This is a style I can’t afford
I’m 6 feet under the pace I’m 6 days away
Miles from the highway

If I had a blue note for,
Every flip side of Sunday
Every since you’ve been gone
If I had a blue note for,
Every mile of the highway
I drove to be gone

I keep coming home
It keeps moving away
The faces I find are misfit
Are but a trace of yesterday

My hair’s a mess and I’m hiding the tear in my dress
I sink like lead and I float like flutter-by wine,
Scootin down the shoo fly

Catch a thief in the thick of the night and the steal is revealed
The plot just got hot
Keep’s coming on,
keep swinging that battle of who’s who
And who is not
Strangest things are clapped in the back room
Boo be doo be doo don’t sit in the pocket of popularity


So I know I’m bored, slap bang 3 sheets to the wind
6 feet under the pace, 6 days away
There goes the highway

Everyone has a story to tell
Who is the girl in the well
Who is a man of cloth
If I had a story to tell
What is the measure of love if it not be loss

I keep coming home
It keeps moving away
Boo-be-do-be-do don’t sit in the pocket of popularity

how you been getting through the night

Written By: angelee contini

how you been getting throught the night
oh baby don't you cry
mumma's gonna make it alright
she gonna sing you a lullaby

how you been getting through the day
crying all alone'll drive a man insane
mumma's gonna make it okay
she gonna sing about happy days

she knows a lot about love
she tell you all about love
sick and tired of love
but she'll sing about it anyway

oh, crazy in love and the sleeplessness won't go
oh when the heart wants the heart breaks, the body follows

seek and you'll find
we all are the stumbling kind
she gonna sing that lullaby thing all night

how you been getting through the day through the night
hush now boy just shut your eyes
toss away the crackpot old witchcraft
mumma's little serenade's a sleeping draught

she knows a lot about love
she tell you all about love
sick and tired of love
but she'll sing about it anyway

now you be getting through the night
you be getting through the night
you be getting through the night
you be getting through the night

that's how it goes

Written By: angelee contini

I had a penchant for love
It made me so violently ill
I had to sit upon my eager heart
Yet it betrayed me still
And so it goes, oh so it goes

I had a mission
I took it so seriously
I had to hunt down that elusive thing
It’s getting away from me
That’s how it goes, oh that’s how it goes

But I pushed on, and I focused my mind
I was lost and I was inclined to agree
Had anybody said it to me
Hen’s teeth needle in a haystack where could he be

Had a crossbow in one hand and a butterfly net
I was sick from the stench of loves sweet lament
I didn’t know, that’s what you get
You go a-hunting for a good love you come home with
An empty net

If you have a penchant for love
That’s making you violently ill
You better sit upon your eager heart
Or someone else will
And that’s how it goes, baby that’s what you get
Oh that’s how it goes, and that’s what you get

high st train

Written By: angelee contini

The clocks have all stopped now
The joker has the floor
One more dance for the road
And the stoner puppeteer, winds his figurines
Stutters through the refrain of an old song
There’s a dance card confetti and they all say the same
I’m just sitting here thinking,
Waiting for the High St train

The docks have all closed now
Derelict misfits in the steel brigade
Damn how times have changed
Stunning maladies
Clustered as the best years peel away
And the finer moments fade
I’m just sitting here thinking
Waiting for the High St train

Bridge -
When I lived on High St, I swear
It was a crazy affair
Those were some rivoting days
See the revolving parade
The strangers I’d wear for a day
Some of them stayed

The jokes are all old now
Poor revivals ain’t a hill of beans
They’re still screening Jimmy Dean
Cheap and cheery café days
Love is a comfortable stain, but I can’t stay here
sitting,and thinking,
Waiting for the High St train
Sitting here thinking, and it crossed my mind
There’s a dance card and an old song, and a ticket to the High St days

picnic in the cemetery

Written By: angelee contini

Picnic in the Cemetery

Spoiled fruit, old wine
Popsicle melting in the moonlight
It’s soul food for the sleepless
There’s no finer place than where the dead rest

Picnic in the cemetery
You can play the ukulele
Let it float across the valley
Fall about in all your languor
Pocket watch is stopped on witching hour
And we’ll all follow on

Tangerine hang low
Fig root serpentine below
If you stay in the moment, stay with me
You’ll believe in many things

Picnic in the cemetery
Lose yourself in huckleberries
Sweep your head of all that’s heavy
Hide and seek amongst the headstones
Now we’re children, now we’re paper dolls
And we’ll never go home

Keep still and quiet
Let go, won’t you let go
Let’s be paper dolls, let’s be carried away
Let’s be tired
And sleep the day away

Sweep your head of all that’s heavy….
….we’ll never go home…..

music underwater

Written By: angelee contini

Music underwater

Music swinging underwater
World’s colliding, not impossible
Dancer’s waltzing through the factories
World’s colliding, not impossible
‘Free to a good home’, in amongst the traders
Careful your buttons aren’t sold on the side of the road
Old man playing hopscotch
With all the street children and all the stray dogs

And he says we can make beautiful
All the days left, his world’s colliding
He plays music underwater

Sleepwalk on a string of silver though her feet are fishtails
It’s not impossible
Clover for carpet in Sing Sing
Cellblocks and swingsets are world’s colliding
Flaubert’s parchment in Braille for the woman who’s practiced in
watching not feeling
She keeps bees in her bedroom
They whisper secrets and sweeten her dreams

And she says we can make beautiful all the days left
Her world’s colliding
Sleepwalks on a string of silver though her feet are fishtails

Music swinging underwater
Dancers waltzing through the factories
Clover for carpet in Sing Sing
Sleepwalk on a string of silver

She makes mudpies and lemonade
He goes cardboard box sliding down hills
They’ll make beautiful all the days left
They’ll make music underwater

man in the window

Written By: angelee contini

Man in the window
With saucer eyes and love removed learns to put favours
In the sole of his shoe
And only for the shattering of china
He is hurried to a different room
With a shocking view

Man in the window
Sits on hands and steers his nerve, and waits
And who will come and who’ll be spared
Who’ll play Chopin beneath the stairs
Who’ll spend September underneath the tea room floor

He makes caves in between the sideboards
He trades watches he leaves shoes for bread
Calls up the pipe, for the news you hear it’s soon so hold tight
Stays away from windows
He’ll hear what he must not see
They’re coming soon,
And soon you’ll be in tea rooms

With other charmed lives
With saucer eyes and lover’s gone
For while they came and you were spared
You still play Chopin beneath the stairs

the going round in circles song

Written By: angelee contini

He’s got carbon eyes, just a touch libertine
Oh it is so where he goes
I’ll go willingly
Baby don’t be angry
I’ve an odd addiction, it’s changing me

If I sing, and serenade, and captivate will you stay
Will you throw the mallet and strike the bell
The kissing booth or the wishing well
It’s fraught with possibility
The carbon eyes have broken me

No red balloons
No valentines
No intertwined if you tried I’d decline
But keep those carbon eyes
Wandering into mine
Just this will be enough
I prefer to look not touch

Maypole round and round
Carousel the King and I
He loves the dance of this ever-changing universe
A flock of two for this church
A serpentine order….. on and on, round and round

We’ll stay sober
No crimes to occupy the collarmen
No tokens to prove a pair
And so, on it goes,
Just this, round and round
Ring road, maypole
Round and round, Spiral code

my rooftop

Written By: angelee contini

You can mess up my kitchen,
You can wreck my bed
You can take a hammer to my window
To see stars in the day, clouds in the night

You can lead me down to your temple,
You can feed me brandy & wine
You can keep your secrets in an old jam jar
Who-ever they are, where-ever they are

You can see your life from my rooftop
I can see I’m loving the view
Put the cat out, & if you cry out in the night
I’ll be there for you

you can be the compass that guides me,
when I’m full of love, and no where to hide it
you can be the capo that slides me,
in & out of love, in & out of love

You can have the top 3 drawers,
Go on ruin me, I’m yours
You can be the first thing I see,
when day breaks down my door

Alice Was a LoveSong

Written By: angelee contini

I called on Miss Alice , With a raven and a hare
And she in a dark mood, set the table bare
And softly not spoken, but sung for the mood
Oh yes, she be gone, and you cannot follow

And don’t go below, there’s an orchid in her burrow
And a sliver of crow, beneath the winter cellar
So bring water for her mule and tea for her crime
Alice was a love song

Don’t sing Miss Alice if you’re fetching your betrothed
A love song knows when to come and when to go
She’ll take a raven, she’ll take a hare for her pains
Oh she be weary, for sadness calls her again

I called for Miss Alice, with a foghorn not a violin
And she came barefoot, for the muse must be the thorn
A gift of a silver thorn, paid her to me for the moment
Oh now she be gone, and I cannot follow

Why tear the nightdress, if she won’t accompany
Why flood the burrow floor, if it’s not to the tune I long for
And what of the hours, of quietly waiting for her to appear
Oh she be weary and sadness calls her again
Alice was a love song


'the man with the pears and other tales' (2010)
'the theatre project' (2008)
'untitled' (2007)
fictional dilemmas (2006) "Catfish" EP

The Man With the Pears and Other Tales is soon to be available in itunes music store & amazon through Songcast Music Distribution.