Video

Select Music Press

Talia Schlanger, "Narrow Bridge"

Talia Schlanger trades radio for the recording studio with debut album

Exclaim!'s 31 Most Anticipated Canadian Albums of 2024

Talia Schlanger Finds a Gentle Resilience on 'Grace for the Going'

Songs of the Week:
“So Small” by Talia Schlanger

Former NPR World Cafe Host Leaves It All To Pursue Music

Exclaim!'s 31 Most Anticipated Canadian Albums of 2024

Lyrics

I know you are tired and scared to close your eyes
I’ll keep watch until we reach the ocean’s other side
Then I’ll lay beside you in the still of sleep
Breathing like it’s simple, dreaming like it’s free
And if waters rise to great unknown
I will hold you high and I will see you home
Long before the oldest oak embraced the linden tree
Long before the thought of you ever occurred to me
A new day came from darkness, the sea released the land
And we were born a promise to the palm of mercy’s hand
So if waters rise to great unknown
I will hold you high and I will see you
I will see you home
I would gather all the stars if they were ours to keep
And fill your pockets with a light that you could always see
No matter the leaving, no matter the fear
No matter how hard they try my love, we are here
So if waters rise to great unknown
I will hold you high and I will see you, I will see you
And if waters rise to great unknown
I will hold you high and I will see you home

Pull me close. Whisper how you love the shape your name takes in my mouth. Soft and low, breathe me in. Attention. Attention is oxygen. And you say, “Oh how rare it is to find someone who doesn’t mind a little changing tide.” A little less than die or ride fast the animal. Come back inside. Give your head a shake. It’s fine.
Make no mistake about it. I was never your friend. I had something you needed. Attention is oxygen. And you say, “Oh how rare it is to find someone who doesn’t mind living in betweens.” Under nails, sewn into seams. Being a silver sliver in the pocket of your jeans.
I save my grace for the going. You save your mean for the end. And now the machine is calling you darling, attention. Calling you darling, calling you darling. Attention. Now the machine is calling. Attention. Attention is oxygen.

Sitting at the table on a Tuesday drawn in grayscale in the first week of a brand new year. Thinking how unlikely that despite the war outside me and inside me I am still here. The ink stains all the same whether someone comes or goes and if this is what remains well then it must be what I chose. And now the sunlight’s seeping in, threatening to wake the walls saying, “You are so big. You are so small.”
Ricochet from thumb to thumb while watching the weeks pass. I have torn my corners. I have loved from skin to glass. I have prayed for patience like an enemy of time and I have begged for freedom from the meter in my mind. But the ink stains all the same whether someone comes or goes and if this is what remains well then it must be what I chose. And now the sunlight’s seeping in, threatening to wake the walls saying, “You are so big. You are so small.”
I can feel the floor. It is cold against my cheek. That is how I know that it is separate from me. And now the sunlight’s seeping in, threatening to wake the walls saying, “You are so big. You are so small.” And now the sunlight’s seeping in, threatening to wake the walls saying, “You are so big. You are so small.”

Nobody out here is gonna ask you why you’re rolling in all hours of the night smelling like smoke. Before an audience of none confess to the horizon. Nobody’s gonna run and tell a word you spoke. Board it up. Hold the pine to the fire and pour the tar. To a hammer the whole world is hard. Seal it off from the seasons. Stay dry. Nobody out here, nobody out here. Nobody. Nobody, nobody out here is gonna ask you why.
Carried the weight of being adored all along the shifting shore, feeling sorry for the moss that clings to stone. Cover your footprints, fill the tracks. Throw the ape off of your back. Roll out a mat and call it home. Board it up. Hold the pine to the fire and pour the tar. To a hammer the whole world is hard. Seal it off from the seasons. Stay dry. Nobody out here, nobody out here. Nobody. Nobody, nobody out here is gonna ask you why.
Tally the nights that light the days. Nothing but the moon to chase. Tidy in case the coyotes come around. Trade in the convenience that comes with opposable thumbs and you’re free to let any son down. Board it up. Hold the pine to the fire and pour the tar. To a hammer the whole world is hard. Seal it off from the seasons. Stay dry. Nobody out here, nobody out here. Nobody. Nobody, nobody out here is gonna ask you why.

Show me, love. Show me where it hurts. Promise I won’t tell you someone else has had it worse. Catch it now coming down the edges of your measured mouth. The drip drop aching to be heard.
Didn’t you try to outrun your inside?
Over the narrow bridge, under the glow of impossible light
Tell me, love. I will understand what it’s like to hold so tight you slip right through your own two hands. Put it down. Show the blade the grass will grow when winter fades. And a mirror’s made of a million grains of sand.
Didn’t you try to outrun your inside?
Over the narrow bridge, under the glow of impossible light
Under the glow of impossible light
Here is a narrow bridge
(And a black car, and a white car
And a beige house and a brown house)

The last time we heard you, you were calling out over the canopy
Harmony held you and carried your name through the trees
Now there’s only an echo where your lullaby used to be
And the leaves wonder where you went every time they try to sleep
Long gone the daughter who left you in water
The son of a song, a seed of tone
There in the cavity with nothing to eat
You fought to grow limbs of your own
And yours would have done the same
But their chance never came around
You are the endLing
The ending of a sound
They came to collect you, came to protect you
From meeting a sixth and final fate
A race to the bottom before you’re forgotten
Before it’s too late
They searched high and low and held on hope
And let it go when only you were found
You are the endLing
The ending of a sound
Ten years of quiet. Ten years and four walls
And for all your weight is worth
Carry your body. Bury 300 million spins of
Wisdom earned in earth
One last cry, one last goodbye
To a lover deep underground
You are the endLing
The ending of a s—

I wish I could build you a pool. You could make your own hours and post your own rules. Your eyes wouldn’t sting, there would be no chlorine. But you wouldn’t worry the water was clean. And any time you felt your insides might rain, you could just dive on in. You could choose any lane. And the changerooms would be painted in all the best blue if I could just build you a pool.
I wish I could give you a bike – the kind you could ride through the city all night. It wouldn’t rust if you left it outdoors and no one would take it, they would know it was yours. You’d soar through the winter and warm all the cold with all of the flowers a basket can hold. You would never get tired, you would only feel light if I could just give you a bike.
I wish I could show you your heart. If you ever felt it was breaking apart, you could see that it has done and it might again, so good thing it’s held in the hands of a friend. You would see all the mending and the globules of glue, the tidbits of tinsel, the ribbons and screws… and you would say, “Okay, that is some beautiful art,” if I could just show you your heart. I wish I could build you a pool.

I have been busy watching the door. Defending my right, my right to be forgotten — to dissolve in air like Judee and the cross wholly lost in amber eyes that stare at the answers scrawled on some temple wall at the use it or it’s useless of us all.
I have been busy choosing the dates by which to measure when I am entirely too late to escape the threshing floor — too late to take more, make more, make what I am made for — to forgive the sheaves that have grown too tall for the use it or it’s useless of us all.
Hold on. No one chooses the gifts that are bound by their bones, wrapped in bruises. Use it or it’s useless. Use it all.
Oh I have been busy. I’m busy often. Defending my right to be forgotten.

The killdeer have come and they’ve called and they’ve gone
The gravel’s worn in and the wind has moved on
The rain has made way for the sweet morning dew
And I am still thinking of you
Marble’s been toppled and masses have marched
Armies have rallied, battalions have charged
They’re writing books about building anew
And I am still thinking of you
I have found some other reasons to sing
I’ve found you can get used to most anything
But when I take my seat at that eternal pew
I will be, I will be thinking of you