About 甘 Thomas Kam
I am a singer/songwriter, writer and performer. My music combines folk, spoken word, pop, electronic and neoclassical. Reflecting my background in classical and jazz piano and poetry, and inspired by Leonard Cohen, Jeff Buckley, Bon Iver and Keith Jarrett, my music is often lyrical, emotive, and improvisational. I touch on the spiritual and sensual, personal and philosophical - life through death, memory, healing, love, water and the mystery of consciousness .
I have performed music and poetry at festivals and venues including Camp Bestival, Lyra Festival, Cheltenham Jazz Festival, Valleyfest, Manchester Bridgewater Hall, and Exeter Cathedral.
The songs below reflect my range of styles from the neo-classical piano and close poetry of "She Has Forgotten Me" to the expansive prose-poetry and folk guitar of "The Skin Of The Water' or the anthemic "Between The Lines"
BETWEEN THE LINES
Count the stars and don’t forget
The light that hasn’t made it yet
Nothing needs to be explained,
Not the flower, not the flame.
Watch the window, paint it blue.
Count the shadows, paint them too.
Write your dreams and read the signs
Finding space between the lines
CHORUS
I’ve been living between the lines,
I’ve been waiting my whole life,
Just give me something to hold on tight
As I let go of my old life.
II. Broken glass on empty street
Sleeping bags on freezing feet
Busy eyes that dart away
The “pious” who forget to pray
They clothe the dark and close their minds
Dreaming, blind, with open eyes
But I’ve been counting my own time,
Finding space between the lines
III. Through the dust, a shaft of light
breaks the mirror before my eyes
From the now, already seen,
To the Now that’s always been
At the end of every breath,
There’s a moment I forget
Where I was, or why I try -
Who am I between the lines?
IV. Where do happy children go?
I forget, the truth I knew
Why do my eyes no longer see
What still stands in front of me?
Count the stars and don’t forget
The light that hasn’t made it yet
Nothing needs to be explained,
Not the flower, not the flame.
SHE’LL BE GONE SOON
Her body of scripture
A living mythology
All that she promised me
Under the moon
All that we could have been
Lost like an empire
Burns in the night
Magnesium fire
Her mouth was like wine
Sour and red
She slipped from the vine
& onto my tongue
Yearning for more of this
Whispering promises
Willing & hopeless
& hopelessly young
CHORUS:
There’s too many lines
In my plasticine mind
She alone listened
‘Cause hers was like mine
She clung to my skin
like a stitch to the seam
But we dreamt in the dark
And day killed the dream
CHORUS
I woke to the smell
Of her hair
Briefly forgetting
That she’s not there