PREMIERE: New track released by Marlon Chaplin

Toronto, ON musician, Marlon Chaplin is no stranger to Canadian Beats and we are happy to premiere his new track, “Family of Three” today. The track is the sixth off of Marlon’s debut EP, Wanderer By Trade which was released on May 22, 2016.

When asked about the track, Marlon shares this explanation with us:

“I wanted something in the classic archetype of the country home in the middle of the woods, a small family fending for themselves. It’s tried, tested and true imagery and I wasn’t concerned about trying to reinvent the wheel. That’s a big part of the Cameron House’s appeal; honouring what’s already been done, but with truth and a burning desire to do it justice. I wanted a rambling, countrified minor progression and began writing of a family of three, stormy night. I thought of a mysterious man cloaked in black, knocking at their door. Someone that would somehow change their lives. But as I kept writing, the man never came. Instead, what followed was a telling of events that at the time I don’t think I fully grasped the gravity of, or the reaction it would illicit. Some people can’t listen it, which I understand. My intention is never to bring pain, but at the best to allow a catharsis to take place. The world is simultaneously a nasty and beautiful space to inhabit.”

The lyrics for the intensely emotional track can be read below, and be sure to connect with Marlon on social media.

The lights go out and the window slams,
Jim takes his girl by her little hand,
While Rory runs upstairs to light a flame,

He comes back down with two candles lit,
Twelve years old and his clothes don’t fit,
He’s got stains on his shirt – cigarette burns on his arm,

“Don’t worry baby, it’s only a dream,”
Outside lighting strikes that old oak tree,
“Honey, you can sleep with me for the rest of the night,”

Here eyes are sunk and there’s a cut on her lip,
It’s a few days old – bruises on her hips,
And Annie don’t go to school much anymore,

A family of three in a country home,
On a plot of land Jimmy’s daddy owned,
Before he passed it off to his only boy,

Rory walks in to set the candles down,
One on the table and one on the ground,
Where Jim is holding Annie by the record machine,

The needle’s bent and the belt got worn,
All the knobs are busted and speakers torn,
Daddy still spins that same old gospel 45,

Rory sits in the dancing light,
Never one to back down from a fight,
Always got his fists up in the air,

When daddy gets a’ drinkin’ he don’t like no lip,
But his boy don’t wanna take no shit,
From some grizzled old fucked up booze hound son-of-a-gun,

So he swings ‘em fast and he hits him low,
When Jimmy gets to little Annie and don’t let her go,
“God help me son, if you speak a word of this to anyone,”

His eyes are wild and his face beet red,
If mama only stuck around instead,
“Daddy, just put down that bottle – leave Annie alone,”

“Boy, I don’t think you heard me clear,
You think you ain’t go no fear?”
Jim cackles as he swings his belt straight across his cheek,

He turns around and he shuts the door,
Leaving Rory balled up on the floor,
“Baby, it’s just you and me now and no one else,”

Rory comes to about a quarter to three,
Darkness in his eyes and blood on his sleeves,
Searching around for those matches somewhere deep in his shirt,

He finds the dead candle and he strikes a stick,
Got that nervous feeling in his stomach’s pit,
Hears a rustle and a’ hustle from his daddy’s room down the hall,

He comes to his feet in the orange glow,
Hail still poundin’ against the kitchen window,
And it hits him like a thousand pound hammer through his wild young heart,

It don’t really matter about your age,
When you got blood in a sister and tears of rage,
Leaking from the eyes of her one and only protector,

If the monster in the bed were to be taken down,
Caligula stripped of his crown,
Then it’s now Jimmy’s time had come to strike his final hour,

Rory moves down the hallway to the very last door,
Never got this far before,
Swings it open, he bolts to the S.S.T on the wall,

He grabs the gun and her eyelids flicker,
A couple bullets in the barrel and he pulls the trigger,
Collapsing in a heap, blood soaking the sheets of the bed,

Annie, she’s a’ shakin’ – far too scared to speak,
Her brother moves toward her and the floorboards creek,
Palms are sweaty now,
Heart beating loud as a drum,

They hear the wind howling but it’s dying now,
Brings his little hand up to his little brow,
Drops the weapon to the floor and takes Annie in both of his arms,

Just then a little hum and the lights come back on,
The skies have cleared and the thunder’s gone,
Jim’s eyes are wide open with smoke rising off of his chest,

Not a neighbour in this county for a mile around,
About nine-hundred folks in the whole damn town,
As the night’s sleeping safe and sound in the sunshine’s embrace.

Connect with Marlon Chaplin:

I’m Jenna, and I am the founder and editor of Canadian Beats. I have had a strong love for Canadian music, which started with Hedley. I have a passion for promoting these talented Canadian bands and artists, and that’s how Canadian Beats came to be. I am so proud of what it has become over the last few years, with many talented music lovers and writers coming together to spread the word of Canada’s music.

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