There are a very limited number of Pre-Release Limited Edition copies which are available now! These are high-quality replicated CDs, not cheap CD-Rs... buy your copy now while stocks last!
Hi, I'm Ange. Hopefully right now you're either listening to my album, or considering buying it. I'm really rather proud of it. It's taken 6 months of very hard work to write and record it.
The official release date is September 5th 2010, the CD is being released under the Story Records label.
However, there are a very limited number of Pre-Release Limited Editions CDs available... now!
My official website is www.angehardy.com, so please do have a look at that to see what I'm doing at the moment in the way of touring.
Ange x
I'm Ange Hardy. I live in a little village in South Somerset with my husband and 6 year old daughter.
I'm a musician. I can't help being a musician, it's just part of me. I'm 26 years old, and I've been writing songs and playing guitar since I was 14.
Above all else I'm a songwriter, but I'm also a singer and guitarist. I have a musical ear for other instruments. I call myself a recording artist.
At the age of 23 I was invited to attend Mama Stones Academy (run by Joss Stones parents). The experience firmly established that I wanted to stay true to my own music and my own image.
Not too long after that I self-recorded a short 8 track album of songs called "The Words to Write it All". It went down well enough to get some interest from an indie record label. Unfortunately they couldn't fund proper studio time so nothing was signed.
However that experience gave me the motivation to accept an offer from a private investor and as a result I spent October 2009 through to March 2010 in a recording studio putting together the 14 track album "Windmills and Wishes" that you're hopefully listening to right now.
I've got a very large folder full of years of unrecorded songs and since finishing the album I've continued writing again, adding several more songs to my folder.
I discovered people actually enjoyed my music when I started singing at pub open mic nights. After that I tried pub scene and didn't enjoy it at all.
Following some more successful gigs where I stayed true to my roots I decided to arrange a short tour of village halls in South Somerset featuring original material to get some income, publicity, and to start building a mailing list of fans.
And that's where I am now.
For my awesome husband Rob who walks with me always. His determination, knowledge and persistence have helped to pave the way. His support has carried me when I’ve needed carrying and his love has caught me when I have fallen.
For my sweet daughter Amy, always follow your heart.
For my incredible family, especially Mum, Andy, Jan and Phil, for all of your belief in me.
Also for the wonderful Tom and Mary Spademan, for your unfailing support and trust.
And finally for all my family at the Yeovil Community Church for your ongoing and invaluable prayer and support.
In memory of my beloved brother Steve Hardy 1978-1995.
Ange x
All songs written and produced by Ange Hardy
Recorded at: Beehive Studios, SomersetVocals, Acoustic Guitar, Keyboard and Penny Whistle: Ange Hardy
Drums, Bass Guitar and Percussion: Olly Winters-Owen
Electric Guitar: Tom Dwyer
Accordion: Paraic Dwyer
Flute: Sonja Helliar
Artwork: Rob Swan and Ange Hardy
I'm looking at the world again, through my microscopic lens. It isn't all it used to be, So many things I don't want you to see. I wish, I wish. For the healing of the sick and then, for all the rich and mighty men to give back to the world again. I wish, I wish.
I'm looking at the world again, through my microscopic lens and everything is a little strange, we never quite get to the point of change. I wish, I wish. That I could someday understand the complicatedness of man. How did it get so out of hand. I wish, I wish.
Dum de dum de dum dum dum. Da da dum da dum dum dum. I wish, I wish.
For the healing of the sick and then for all the rich and mighty men to give back to the world again. I wish. That I could someday understand the complicatedness of man. How did it get so out of hand. I wish. For the healing of the sick and then for all the rich and mighty men to give back to the world again. I wish, I wish. Hmm-mm, Ta da!
So forbidden that it can't be written I don't know what I'm gonna say to you. No mistaking what I'm contemplating takes away the words that I would say to you. Ink bled, book red, no dialogue.
What will we want when we're walking wounded, words which we waste wishing hate on the world? When will we weave words we wouldn't want whispered, words which would wake whomsoever heard?
All I do is make my own stupid mistakes but they tell me somewhere I will find it's written, if you clean the stains all the words remain but it's not as if I didn't try to listen, and I can't read what I can't see. I can't believe that you don't bleed. I can't feed this fear within me, can't leave until I know you've heard.
So forbidden that it can't be written I don't know what I'm gonna say to you. No mistaking what I'm contemplating takes away the words that I would say to you. Ink bled, book red, no dialogue.
Don't ask me if you don't want my opinion. Don't think that you can make me take your side. I don't even want to try to see your reason. Don't think that you can make me tell your lies. Your lies. Your lies.
They take and break and tear away at happy homes. They shake and rattle causing everyone to battle on their own. So fake, they grate and grind away at happy homes. They stake and shatter causing everyone to batter all their own.
We don't need your mass rejection, all we need is child protection. Don't you know, you're on your own. Don't you know, you're on your own. You're on your own. Don't you know, you're on your own.
One side and other side and maiden in the middle cries and all the time you tell your lies she's feeding off your cyanide. Pass the buck and peek and pry and bribe to be the better side and all the time you take and try to get your kids to tell your lies.
They take and break and tear away at happy homes. They shake and rattle causing everyone to battle on their own. So fake, they grate and grind away at happy homes. They stake and shatter causing everyone to batter all their own.
We don't need your mass rejection, all we need is child protection. Don't you know, you're on your own. Don't you know, you're on your own. You're on your own. Don't you know, you're on your own.
You're on your own. Don't you know, you're on your own. One side and other side and maiden in the middle cries and all the time you tell your lies she's feeding off your cyanide. Pass the buck and peek and pry and bribe to be the better side and all the time you take and try to get your kids to tell your lies. One side and other side and maiden in the middle cries and all the time you tell your lies she's feeding off your cyanide. Pass the buck and peek and pry and bribe to be the better side and all the time you take and try to get your kids to tell your lies. You're on your own. Don't you know, you're on your own.
You're on your own.
Hollow I am. You've left me empty. You're not the man that I thought that you'd be. Can't understand, how you can let time go to waste, leaving your children to prey as they wait for you to take some time away from you, to take your place in childhood dreams.
Don't come back knocking at my door but I hope you've found what your looking for. Don't come back knocking at my door but I hope you've found what your looking for.
Hollow I am. You've left me empty. You're not the man that I thought that you'd be. Can't understand, how you can let time go to waste, leaving your children to prey as they wait for you to take some time away from you, to take your place in childhood dreams.
Don't come back knocking at my door but I hope you've found what your looking for. Don't come back knocking at my door but I hope you've found what your looking for.
Don't be sad to let things go, to watch them drop and watch them grow. Make a little room in your hands to hold mine in yours, in yours and don't be bothered by your past or mine, our story's changing all the time, tale we'll be telling 0509 will be, I do, I do. Don't be shy when I read and quote the words you put on a post it note, the IOU one lifetime that you wrote.
Tell your mum and dad that you will not be coming home, the hand that isn't holding mine can hold the telephone. Tell your mum and dad that you will not be coming home, now that I have gotten hold of you, now that I have gotten hold of you.
Don't be sad to let things go, to watch them drop and watch them grow. Make a little room in your hands to hold mine in yours, in yours and don't be bothered by your past or mine, our story's changing all the time, tale we'll be telling 0509 will be, I do, I do and don't be shy when I read and quote the words you put on a post it note, the IOU one lifetime that you wrote.
Tell your mum and dad that you will not be coming home, the hand that isn't holding mine can hold the telephone. Tell your mum and dad that you will not be coming home, now that I have gotten hold of you, now that I have gotten hold of you.
Sitting on my windmill, looking down the world goes round and round, round and round. Sitting on my windmill, looking down the world goes round and round, round and round and the clouds are changing round and there are patterns to be found but I can't see them. Potato printed in the sky so dogs, old men and sheep can fly in freedom.
Sitting on my windmill, looking down the world goes round and round, round and round. Sitting on my windmill, looking down the world goes round and round, round and round and the grass is moving round and daisies pin pricked in the ground are gently dancing. Politely bow and dose doe and pirouette on tippy toes then parting.
Sitting on my windmill, looking down the world goes round and round, round and round. Sitting on my windmill, looking down the world goes round and round, round and round and the waves are rolling round and passing boats can all be found, riding white horses. Cotton coated cavalry uniting both the sand and sea in pure bliss.
Sitting on my windmill, looking down the world goes round and round, round and round. Hmm-mm on my windmill.
My feet are black. My hair's shaved back. Holding on to life in a refuse sack. On Galway green, time stops for me as the sun plays with my skin.
My feet are black and my hair's shaved back. Holding on to life in a refuse sack. On Galway green, time stops for me as the sun plays with my skin and it's high time I found a place for me to run to. It's my time, you won't find me if you try to.
My feet are black and my hair's shaved back. Holding on to life in a refuse sack. The things I've seen turn my blood thin, still I'm safer here than I've ever been and it's high time I found a place for me to run to. It's my time and you won't find me if you try to.
My feet are black and my hair's shaved back. Holding on to life in a refuse sack. On Galway green, time stops for me as the sun plays with my skin and it's high time I found a place for me to run to. It's my time, you won't find me if you try to.
It's my time.
When I look back on hard times, I ask myself why. As I search for a reason a tear gently falls from my eye. But would I be here and have her by my side, had I not been through all of this, had my strength not been tested and tried?
For every loss, through all the pain, she closes the holes left inside. For every fear, through all the shame in my child I can always confide.
When I see my little girl smile, my troubles they swiftly subside. All I feel when I look in her eyes is a warmth as my heart fills with pride. All I feel when I look in her eyes is a warmth as my heart fills with pride.
Tell me what you're feeling and I'll try to see your reasoning, give my mind another chance to walk with yours. All unsaid is left unfeeling on my heart still simply beating. I'll just play another sad A minor chord. Why won't you lay out all your feeling on the floor and I'll try not to be to hard on you, try not to be to hard on you. I'll try not to be to hard on you.
I'll try not to be to hard on you when you tell me that you may have told a lie and you were scared you might have hurt my tender side and then I'd cry. I'll try not to be to hard on you when you tell me all I've written ain't quite right, only love had left you smitten so you tried to save my pride. Dum da dum da dum da dum. Dum da dum da dum da dum. Dum da dum da dum da dum. Dum dum dum. Dum dum dum.
So tell me what you're feeling, I'll try to see your reasoning, give my mind another chance to walk with yours. All unsaid is left unfeeling on my heart still simply beating. I'll just play another sad a minor chord. Won't you lay out all your feeling on the floor and I'll try not to be to hard on you, try not to be to hard on you. I'll try not to be to hard on you.
I'll try not to be to hard on you when you tell me all I see is black and white and that shades of gray been missing out my life, I'm dog eyed blind. I'll try not to be to hard on you when you tell all I've gotta do is try and with just a little patience and some time, I might just fly. Dum da dum da dum da dum. Dum da dum da dum da dum. Dum da dum da dum da dum. Dum dum dum. Dum dum dum.
Dum da dum da dum da dum. Dum da dum da dum da dum. Dum da dum da dum da dum. Dum dum dum. Dum dum dum.
Stella sits alone. Singing songs that one day all her dreams would fly her home and the doorstep signs envy above her head in bold, as the rain creeps in, she clenches her toes and the world just goes and the world just goes and the world just goes. Hmm-mm.
Stephen turned to stone. Someone told me once he'd be much better now he's gone. As the coldness takes over his breath is all he holds and the pain fades away, his eyes gently close and the world just goes and the world just goes and the world just goes. Hmm-mm.
Sophie says she's done. Somehow she believed there was no need to carry on. Her reflections all broken in the mirrors that she holds. As she pulls down her sleeves the blood stains her clothes. The world just goes. The world just goes and the world just goes. Hmm-mm.
Simon stays at home. A single life lead him to lies that will never let him go and the words said won't bring rest as he strains to hold the load and the whiskey it dry's, his head falls down low and the world just goes and the world just goes and the world just goes. Hmm-mm.
Hey Mr man, if you don't mind, I could really use, a little more time. My diary's full, deadline's fine, gonna need another minute in this day of mine. Hey Mr man, if you don't mind, I could really use a little more time, you've been working all day, now you know you've gotta try to bring the bread to the nest before your birds all fly. Hey Mr, Mr man. Hey Mr, Hey Mr man.
Don't be questioning my reasons. Don't be asking why. When the sky stands still and the moon stops moving we're gonna need a little more time, Mr man.
Hey Mr man, if you don't mind, I could really use a little more time. You know I'll pay you back as soon as I can get a dime for all the writing I been doing on these songs of mine. Hey Mr man, if you don't mind, I could really use, a little more time, didn't mean to let you down, I need another chance to shine, show you everything is gonna be just fine. Hey Mr, Mr man. Hey Mr, Hey Mr man.
Don't be questioning my reasons. Don't be asking why. When the sky stands still and the moon stops moving we're gonna need a little more time, Mr man.
Hey Mr man, if you don't mind, I could really use a little more time. I've gone and gotten pretty fond of this life of mine, I ain't ready to be crossing to the other side. Hey Mr, Mr man. Hey Mr, Hey Mr man. Hey Mr man.
A young girl of fourteen ran from social care with a bag for her clothes and a bik for her hair, she ran to deer Dublin with a wee Irish man, as she stepped from the lorry she shook his wee hand. She found a new home in a Grafton street shop, the doorstep of Envy was where she would stop, with a bag for a pillow and a whistle in hand she played a sweet ditty and sang to the land. I run for my freedom but not from my own. I would not be running if I had a home. I'll take what you give me with thanks in my song, so I can keep running to where I belong.
As Grafton street danced to her song in the air, the women sold heather and flowers for your hair and the boy and cart carriages carried their load while the artists drew symphonies out in the road. With nothing to rush for and nowhere to go, time had no place in this story she told, for each penny placed in the hat by her hand, her heart it did heal and regain faith in man. I run for my freedom but not from my own. I would not be running if I had a home. I'll take what you give me with thanks in my song, so I can keep running to where I belong.
The young girl she found that the road could be hard. She walked with her feet bare and blackened by tar. She stood by the river and there she did find a new home of Faultue with people so kind. They washed her and clothed her and cared for her health, they did not want money they cared not for wealth. The hall it was dry and the soup it was warm, in return for their kindness she sang them her song. I run for my freedom but not from my own. I would not be running if I had a home. I'll take what you give me with thanks in my song, so I can keep running to where I belong.
The wind it did guide her to travel the land, from protests to parties and small Irish towns, 'till one day in Galway her heart she had found in the gift of a pen and the words she wrote down. 'Twas on Galway green she knew she belonged. Wherever she rested was where she'd call home, for now she relied on the kindness of man, the Guitar she held and the songs that she sang. I run for my freedom but not from my own. I would not be running if I had a home. I'll take what you give me with thanks in my song, so I can keep running to where I belong. To where I belong.
I run for my freedom but not from my own. I would not be running if I had a home. I'll take what you give me with thanks in this song, so I can keep running to where I belong.
I don't need this. Somehow it's not right to fantasize of romance and dancing through the night. Your tenderness and passion wraps me up in dreams. A voice as soft as satin. I'm breaking at the seams and I am falling deeper in to you.
You become my skin, surrounding me, keeping me in. You become my space. Warm and safe in your embrace.
I don't need this. Somehow it's not right to fantasize of romance and dancing through the night. Your tenderness and passion wraps me up in dreams. A voice as soft as satin. I'm breaking at the seams and I am falling deeper in to you.
You become my skin, surrounding me, keeping me in. You become my space. Warm and safe in your embrace.
Oh I really haven't got an awful lot to say, being that I am a writer I'm not sure that that's okay. Every word I need to find is taking too much time, grinding on the matter of my teeny tiny mind and I'm afraid my little brain is leaking at the mains, clogging up the cogging and the plugs stuck in the drain. Everybody knows you overfill you overflow. I'm loosing all my braincells out my eyes and down my no-uh-oh-oh, uh oh, uh oh-oh-oh, oh, uh oh-oh-oh.
Oh I really haven't got an awful lot to say. I've been staring into tumble weed and lost in dust all day and all the floaters in my eyes made my brain immobilize, can't see beyond the dancing of those multicoloured flies and I'm afraid my every phrase is lost inside a maze. I've got a nasty feeling that it's more than just a phase. As all the hedging grows I'm getting lost inside the rows. The words are buried deeper in my mind and I don't know-uh-oh-oh, uh oh, uh oh-oh-oh, oh, uh oh-oh-oh.
Oh I really haven't got an awful lot to say. All my thoughts have turned to vices one by one they've turned away and now they're starting to withdraw, I feel I must implore, why I'm kneeling by my bedside picking braincells off the floor. I'm afraid I can't contain all the matter in my brain, my neurons have been battered and will never feel the same. The cellular mitosis has been stopped dead in mid process. I don't know if you've noticed but I don't know what to say. I just don't know. uh oh, uh oh-oh-oh, oh, uh oh-oh-oh.
Oh I really haven't got an awful lot to say, being that I am a writer I'm not sure that that's okay. Every word I need to find is taking too much time, grinding on the matter of my teeny tiny mind and I'm afraid my little brain is leaking at the mains, clogging up the cogging and the plugs stuck in the drain. Everybody knows you overfill you overflow. I'm loosing all my braincells out my eyes and down my no-uh-oh-oh, uh oh, uh oh-oh-oh, oh, uh oh-oh-oh.
Oh, uh oh, uh oh-oh-oh, oh, uh oh-oh-oh. Oh, uh oh, uh oh-oh-oh, oh, uh oh-oh-oh.


