The Minute Hand Ballet

The Minute Hand Ballet

 Salem, Oregon, USA
BandRockSinger/Songwriter

The Minute Hand Ballet is an Epic Indie Folk Pop band from the Northwest, as well as the brain child of singer/songwriter Ronan Baker. Their sound can be described in one word -- Epic. Their songs tell a story, using the lyrics to produce images and solid Indie rhythm to capture raw human emotion.

Biography

The Minute Hand Ballet is an Epic Indie Folk Pop band from the Northwest, as well as the brain child of singer/songwriter Ronan Baker. Their sound can be described in one word -- Epic. Their songs tell a story, using the lyrics to produce images and solid Indie rhythm to capture raw human emotion. Ever since May 2009, when they all met in a songwriting course while attending Western Oregon University, The Minute Hand Ballet have created songs full of complex lyrics, profound messages, and beautifully composed melodies. Their sincere honesty coupled with a knack for learning and experimentation makes The Minute Hand Ballet a unique musical talent. Their inventive elements in conjunction with lead singer Ronan Baker's cool, confident voice set their sound a part amidst a world of cookie cutter Mozartian chord progressions and mediocre plastic pop bands.

Lyrics

Becoming Extinct

Written By: Ronan Baker

Father is in the sky pointing his finger at me
He’s not accusing of anything he just wants my plea
To why I drink a goblet of water and oil
Drown all the fish and rape the soil
On an endless search for expansion and food
Blood on the chin, ends a sentimental mood
He wants me to rule the world like a monarchy
A deliberate manifest destiny
A march to extinction, two by two, an art
Til’ one by one we are thrown off the arc

I’ve got this feeling that the gods are getting pissed
I’ve seen the stickers, can’t we coexist?
Why should we care if we die or how
Because that lies in the future, so what about now?
I don’t care about your crown of gold, your afterlife
It won’t give me one more Silent Night
Until we stop all the cries for holy drugs and wars
These facts are peace pacts and I can’t ask for more

Don’t worry we are becoming extinct
And when I finally get there, I will tell you what it is like
Heaven looks like a long road in the sky
Or an endless spoke on the Devil’s bike
When my meteor strikes, I’ll tell you what it is like

(This is the way) we spend our money, to put things in our mouths
So we can breathe fire and feed the clouds
We kill ourselves slowly, gulping not taking sips
Put guns to our lips and then light up the tips
We are trying to get there faster, developing new ways
While others are there, crying at the end of the day
We are so scared of dying we’ve missed life’s worth
As we are busy clinging on to the dirt of the earth
Don’t worry about when eternal rest draws near
For now lets make Heaven right here

My Mother doesn’t know how she feels
As I come inside and blatantly start to steal
Carbon keeps on bleeding out the back of my heels
As I report to court using my heart as a shield
A Mustachioed Casanova in a poppy field
Looking over graves of soldiers not revealed
Saying, “I’m not the culprit I just provide the means
So kids can drink away all the hate that they’ve seen”

This is the rifle that corporations make
And it spurts ink at an alarming rate
At death row inmates who have no voice
But who are framed for trying to make a choice
Now it’s time that the roles are reversed
So a rejection letter is not a brand new hearse
All the division chairs are strapped in electric chairs
With a switch un thrown unless we decide it is fair

The Streets Are Only Painted Gold

Written By: Ronan Baker

Three weeks at sea, the statue of liberty
There on the docks I knew I’d settled
Then down the ramp, rose pedals and passports were stamped
And the streets shone like metal

What a wondrous day
What plans have been laid
I’ll give you my heart
I’m not ashamed
First build love, and bombs will not fly!

I was new to these shores, English and liquor stores
Begging on the corner I’d stand
With no honor to redeem, It was not what I’d dreamed
Til there stood a blind bearded man (and he said)

“Paint the streets, your face, your teeth, and you’ll be fine

The streets are not made of gold, it’s not
What they told you, so make your own road
First build the earth, and I’ll show you the sky!”

I sold my soul, sold my shoes and shoveled coal
Now ash filled my chest
Next my family, rose out of the sea
They asked about the dream and I kept my cards close to the vest
Then my brother and I walked home, sadly we weren’t alone
And ash filled my breath
They were the mayor’s men, they said they didn’t like towel heads
So they beat my brother to death

Then the hospital it shuttered, it shuttered, it shuttered
And I took shelter in a bottle and a gutter, a gutter, a gutter
Where I found a diamond, a diamond, a diamond
And I bought some new friends, new friends , new friends
They cut their own wrists, own wrists, own wrists
And old dreams I miss, Gold America I miss

Discography

As The Minute Hand Ballet:
Red Cross EP (2009)

As Ronan Baker:
The Sad Parade (2008)

The Bare EP (2008)