Patsy Moore

Patsy Moore

 Los Angeles, California, USA
BandPopSinger/Songwriter

"Patsy Moore...assaults the largely bland world of...pop music with a soundscape of breezy, intriguing music and vivid, compelling lyrics." - Mike Atkinson, Mars Hill Review

Biography

Patsy Moore is an award-winning, critically acclaimed singer/songwriter, poet and essayist, filmmaker, film and television score composer, and occasional humanities lecturer, who lives in Los Angeles, California.

The elder daughter of a North American career military father and West Indian educator mother, Moore's creative endeavors have been culled from a multicultural upbringing, persistent curiosity, and inventive mind. Her family relocated frequently when she was a child. As a result of that experience, her music has always employed diverse influences—including African and Caribbean rhythms, folk, soul, Latin, rock, pop and funk.

Moore moved from Chapel Hill, North Carolina to Nashville, Tennessee in 1988. Her distinctive songwriting and engaging vocal style gained rapid attention on famed Music Row and, before long, her tune "Talk About Life" became the popular title track of Reunion Records artist Kim Hill's sophomore album. Moore was hired shortly thereafter as a staff writer at McSpadden Group and a record deal with Warner Bros. soon followed. Under the Warner imprint, Moore completed two projects—Regarding the Human Condition (1991) and the flower child's guide to love and fashion (1993).

Her self-produced The Most Private Confessions of Saint Clair: Studio Renderings was released in April 2008. Due to a series of formidable setbacks, including the artist's longtime battle with grave illness, the 11-song project took nearly five years to complete. Plans are currently underway to re-mix, re- master and re-release that work within the next 24 months.

Moore's latest is Expatriates, a concept album débuted via a two-day online listening party (in early March 2011) to immensely positive reception. The lead single ("I Love You") began rollout in mid- December 2010. Full release of Expatriates commenced March 15, 2011.

Lyrics

I WILL

Written By: Patsy Moore

Why don't you sit a minute?
Hush the howling wolf
I come offering comfort
Come on, let me in
To act as sanctuary
To be your healing waters
To chase the fever from your burning skin

When you need someone to talk to
Don't you forget I told you
I will be there for you

I will, I will, I will, I will, I will, I will
I will, I will, I will, I will, I will, I will

Love is sweet sacrifice
It is not a burden
There's nothing I would rather do
Than bring you peace
I could be your shelter
When the bombs are whistling
I could be your harbor
If you'd come to me

When you need someone to talk to
Don't you forget I told you—

I will, I will, I will, I will, I will, I will
I will, I will, I will, I will, I will, I will
I will, I will, I will, I will, I will, I will
I will, I will, I will, I will, I will, I will
I will

Love is sweet sacrifice
It is not a burden
There's nothing I would rather do
Than bring you peace
I could be your shelter
When the bombs are whistling
I could be your harbor
If you'd come to me
Let me be your harbor
Come to me
I will be your harbor
Come to me
I will

THE MOST PRIVATE CONFESSIONS OF SAINT CLAIR

Written By: Patsy Moore

It's been eight years
Since my last confession
Father, bless me
No, I did not sin
I just gave over to some mad obsession
And in so doing let some bad stuff in

It's been eight years
Since my last confession
Must we still insist on so much shame?
Can we find a way to ease the tension?
Can't you see that there's no one to blame?

I recognize your good intentions
I'm thankful that of all your sorrows
You love me most
But you can't be my Holy Ghost
And I can't be your dream

It's been ten years
Since I pressed a record
It's been nine years since I cared at all
It's been eight years
Since my last confession
It's been four years
Since the sad phone call

And I only bring this up to mention
That every single solitary story
On that shelf
Brought me to the best part of myself

Amen

I recognize your good intentions
I'm thankful that of all your sorrows
You love me most
But you can't be my Holy Ghost
And I can't be your dream

SHE (SOMEWHAT SATIRICAL)

Written By: Patsy Moore

She
Lying twisted on the divan
She
Flirting with his artificial eye
Is written in light
French
Black and white
Serpentine and spry
Shapely as a cursive letter

She
Lying twisted on the divan
She, she, she—
Porcelain elbow to the ceiling
A secret 'neath her smile
Is dappled in light
French
Black and white
High-heeled, scarlet-lipped
Shapely as a cursive letter

Something lyrical
Somewhat satirical
Is she, she, she

She
Whimsical Parisian
1926
She
Contorted as the statue
Her diagonal rear right
In the Hungarian's light
French
Black and white
French
Black and white

Ooh la la la...

Something lyrical
Somewhat satirical
Is she
Something lyrical…

She
Lying twisted on the divan
She
Flirting with his artificial eye

(I DON’T WANNA) CRY

Written By: Patsy Moore

There was writing on the wall
When the fever traveled south
Now there are echoes in the hall
And I still feel you on my mouth

You can't know how much I hate
The taste of your disease
But I can't shake it

I would give my last thin dime
For a night of solid rest
Or to erase the chalk outline
Where love was ripped out of my chest

You can't know how much I hate
The sound of your goodbyes
I can't take them

I don't wanna cry over you anymore
I don't wanna die because of you
Anymore
I don't want to cry
Over you
Anymore

If an ounce of worth remains
In the episode we shared
Then leave my life and stay away
And see that I am spared

I can teach myself to hate
The sight of you returning
Or I can fake it

But I don't wanna cry over you anymore
I don't wanna die
A thousand deaths a day
Because of you
Anymore
I don't want to cry
Over you
Anymore
Anymore

BIG KIDS

Written By: Patsy Moore

Sister, sister, friend of mine
I saw you cry
I heard you scream
In the vice grip of a night
All the color was draining from your dreams
No doubt the pain was real
But it's never exactly as it seems
'Cause beauty waits for you

Brother, brother, far from first
But you won't be the last
To believe you'll die of thirst
While you pray this cup will pass
Crucifixions come and go
But hold on fast
Beauty waits for you

We'll all take a turn standing in the fire
We'll curse our births as flames climb
Higher and higher
But in time we'll find the blaze
To be a liar
Smoke and mirrors
And we'll walk away
Big kids
With our tales to tell

So brothers, sisters, friends of mine
In this strange life, play it smart
Feel your feelings when you feel them
But know this of your heart
Whatever secrets she might whisper
Are revealed only in part
Beauty waits for you

We all take a turn standing in the fire
We curse our births as flames climb
Higher and higher
But in time we find the blaze to be a liar
Smoke and mirrors
And we walk away
Big kids
With our tales to tell

Sister, sister, friend of mine
Brother, brother, friend of mine

GOD HELP THE GIRLS

Written By: Patsy Moore

God help the girls
Who have been stricken
May they someday be turned loose
From those midnight games of chicken
That do them in, that cook the goose

God help their souls now
Creased, cracked and blue
God help the girls who can't help
But love you

God help the girls all bleak and lonely
When it is you they choose to dial
When you become their 'one and only'
When they fall victim to your style

God help their souls now
Deaf, dumb and blue
God help the girls who can't help
But love you

Every chip stacked against them
Every word some weak defense
And your every kiss will be a jack slap
A bear trap
It's gonna shove 'em down
A pitch black hole
Where common sense does not prevail
Not in the least

God help the girls
God help the girls
Set them free
God help the girls
God help the girls

God help the girls
Who have been stricken
May they someday be turned loose

God help their souls now
Creased and cracked
Battered and bruised
God help the girls who can't help
But love you
I say, God help any girl
Who falls in love with you

DEFENSELESS

Written By: Patsy Moore

I had a dream
You and I were flying, flying
On gorgeous wings
We were wheeling through the air
And there was music
And we were innocents
For the first time in our lives

I had a dream
You and I were happy, happy
So we began to sing
There was stardust everywhere
And sparks were jumping
And we could not stop smiling

'Cause we knew that we knew
That we were finally defenseless

Without a net
Without a clue
Without a care
Without a fear
Without our Ivy League blues
Without a roof
Without a floor
Without agenda
Without pretense
And without desire for more

I had a dream
You and I were hugging
Holding onto each other
As the night held onto us
And you were saying:
"Who'd have thought
We'd ever let ourselves become...?"

I had a dream
You and I were you and me
Suddenly, we blended into one
'Til I looked into the palm of my hand
And it was yours
It was yours

And it caught me by surprise
By I was surprisingly unfazed

Without a net...

And it felt so good to just let go
It felt so good to just not know
It felt so good to be small and new
It felt so good to be
Sailing next to you

THAT’S NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU

Written By: Patsy Moore

You are my blood and bones
My heart and soul
My all five senses
The truth be told

You are my blood and bones
My heart of hearts
My all five senses
The truth be known

But that's not enough for you
That's not enough for you

I carved my insides out
Without a pause
And said, "Now, pitch a tent in here"

I scooped my insides out
Without a pause
And said, "Now, pitch a tent, my dear"

But that's not enough for you
That's not enough for you

So many people have celebrated
Your intellect
That I'm assuming if not now
Then one day
You'll be astute enough to see
You should have held onto me

You are my sun and moon
My planet Earth
My constellations
Rest assured

Yeah, honey, my sunshine, moonlight
I'm your satellite
You're the Big and Little Dippers
I couldn't want for more

But that's not enough for you
That's not enough

So many people have celebrated
Your intellect
So, I'm assuming if not now
Then one day
You will be shrewd enough to see
You should have never let me be
You should have held onto me

THE CURVE

Written By: Patsy Moore

Because he possessed a powerless will
He guided the car back to Chapel Hill
To a café familiar,
Down a narrow side street
Fearing the impact of when
He would meet

The curve of the moon
The curve of her lips
The curve of the room
The curve of her hips

He paused when he entered
She offered her hand
Soft like a whisper, brown like sand
And in a scene too familiar
He fell to his seat
Hung in the web of the weak
When they meet

The curve of the moon
The curve of her lips
The curve of the room
The curve of her hips

It's all in the curve
(He's lost in the curve)
It's all in the curve
(He's found in the curve)
It's all in the curve
(He swims in the curve
And he drowns in the curve)

Up the curve
Down the curve
'Round the curve

Because he possessed a powerless will
He carried his heart back to Chapel Hill
To a café familiar,
Where he tried not to stare
Each fiber within him acutely aware

Of the curve of the moon
The curve of her lips
The curve of the room

It's all in the curve…

AROUND THAT TOWN

Written By: Patsy Moore

Around that town
There are legends in the making
Around that town
There are spirits being set up
For their breaking
There's no mistaking
The blow then coup-de-grâce

Around that town
There are rich men at lunch
Around that town
There are even richer men
Who have a hunch
That while they've never seen
Your thing in motion
They dig your vibe

Around that town
There are part-time gigs
Around that town
Starving artists are
Banking on the big
Around that town
There are several hundred chances
To form a first impression

They all get nice and shiny
Sitting pretty in the glow
Of The Silver Screen

Like Jimmy Dean
Like Steve McQueen
Like Martin Sheen

Around that town
There are turncoats like me
Who used to tear it down
‘Til one day rather unexpectedly
Came the knowledge that
Against their better judgments
They'd fallen in love
With that town

Now we're nice and shiny
Sitting pretty
(Like Jimmy Dean
Like Steve McQueen)
We're nice and shiny
Sitting pretty
(Like Martin Sheen
Like Ida Lupino)

In the glow of The Silver Screen...

Discography

Regarding the Human Condition (1991/Warner Bros.)

the flower child's guide to love and fashion (1993/Warner Bros.)

The Most Private Confessions of Saint Clair: Studio Renderings (2008/Papa Chuy)

Expatriates (2011/Papa Chuy)