"Six Folds And A Throw" EP

by Airborne Mark

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Debut EP - written by Airborne Mark, composed and produced by B Szczesny.

“Six Folds and a Throw” EP

By day a primary school teacher, by night a rapper and a graffiti artist in between; welcome to the where-clouds-abound world of Airborne Mark. At the sunset of 17th September 2010 “Six Folds and a Throw” EP finally touches the ground. Airborne Mark, of a quirky heaven-sent accent fame, teamed up with an acclaimed progressive electronic producer, B Szczesny (Brennnessel Netlabel) to create a uniquely sounding debut EP. From a minimal yet effervescent bass line to heavily synthesised harmonies dressed up in a spoken-word-esque narrative, “Six Folds and a Throw” takes you aboard a whimsical paper plane jetlag-free flight through the world of eclectic exploits.

Ladies and Gentlemen. This is your captain speaking. Fasten your seat-belts, we are ready for the take off.

credits

released September 17, 2010

Airborne Mark, B Szczesny

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Airborne Mark London, UK

Graffiti artist by day, rapper by night. My heart is an origami cloud...

Singing Pictures & Painting Songs for Eternity and Beyond...

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Track Name: In a Leafy Branch
In a Leafy Branch
Lyrics By Airborne Mark

With the sun’s short winter walk
I almost finished the piece on the wall
Since morning despite the pitiless cold, I’d been restlessly trying to capture my heart’s burning load
Forlorn lines and clogging paint were not enough to get me warm
So when numb fingers could dance spontaneously on caps no more
I popped on headphones with loves songs for the broken hearted and hit the road
At home, over a 5 minute diner of bland cuscus and tinned Marcel I imagined you sitting across - smiling
If you were here, I would treat you be a masterly seasoned sea bass with rocket pesto
Table bejewelled with lit candles and origami serviettes instead of these markers sandwiched between sketchpads, Graphotism and VNA
Indeed it never felt so wrong with Winter Song trickling out on and on repeat
This HQ is bursting with so much emotion yet glaringly devoid of you being here

Can’t take you off my mind
Like you were a kite trapped in a leafy branch
Can’t forget those sparkling eyes
Like a homesick sojourner navigating by the stars
So come and shine into my life from wherever you are
But the more I follow, you’re still so afar

I lost myself in daubing ice cold Parisian blue
The canvas steadily drank its watery swatches as I brushed you off my attention till the setting moon
I puffed and huffed on the freshly painted clouds till my cheeks turned traffic red
A watched pot never boils speaking of which I stretched out with a loud pop in my stiff neck and went for a well deserved coffee break
Half-way through the chipped cup
In a mix of emotions I came up with this ardent rap
Before forgetting I wrote it with my ring finger in sugar I had sprinkled across the table top
Because you sweeten up my life yet it’s a fleeting hope
Soon I transferred to the dog-eared journal as the couplets like birth pangs kept coming
I tried to cage them like a pair of yellow-tailed black cockatoos
Same as with painting, perfecting verses did not help too
As the pile of crunched pages kept steadily mounting
No matter how much I tried to blunt that knife-like loneliness
I only found out that my heart was twice as pounding

Can’t take you off my mind
Like you were a kite trapped in a leafy branch
Can’t forget those sparkling eyes
Like a homesick sojourner navigating by the stars
So come and shine into my life from wherever you are
But the more I follow, you’re still so afar
Track Name: A.I.R
A.I.R
Lyrics By Airborne Mark

They say relentlessly my heaven-sent accent is spot on wacky
They keep mispronouncing my name
Arguably, its Google-ability is not as fantastic
Anyway, I’m simply cracka-lacking painstakingly tracking exciting words to make this beat pumping.
So now I’m explicitly stamping my mark with the panache of a post office clerk sending airmail
Do I really need to spell the name out over PA?
Anyhow, all aboard, this flight is bound to highly entertain
I’m airborne, not urban. Though indeed I fly with supremacy on and above the street
My identity is not in faking the immaculate accents of BBC
Nor in a twang of a born and bread LDN rapper, hailing from south, west, east or north
To spare you all those nonsense postcode wars, I’m always heaven wards
Witness the crown toppling take off . Blast off.
My tongue more cutting edge that a Spitfire’s Propeller
My cranium hotter than a burner at full throttle
Ever increasing uplifting vocab like Phileas Fogg’s hot air balloon
In 80 slips of my tongue I brave turbulences and travel across galaxies
I’m a sunset contrail conductor
You’re right, by no means I have this earthly X factor
But there’s more to Airborne Mark though
My identity is written within Alfa and Omega as I’m born from Above

Give me A
Give me I
Give me R
Airborne Mark carried through the air with a plane-load of Jester’s love

I’m not a turtledove, a pigeon nor a seagull
I’m equal to the eagle
Aviating with the aptitude excelling that of Porco Rosso, Pirx and Biggles
One and only true ace in the place
Stay aground amazed as I loop the loop with tremendous grace
Off the face of the planet, with a pull, up, up and away
Running on the common
Scribbling on the blue sky with the finesse of a billowing tail
More in a manner of a kite than a bird or a plane
To those mind boggling linguistics aerobatics crowds cant help but react
Let alone to the goggles round my neck, a fluttering scarf
What’s on earth with launching off the stage all that paper-craft?
I’m Abso-Jolly-Lutely distinctive, I soar sunwards unlike the ostrich and the penguin
Definitely not with handmade wings of a fistful of feathers and a dollop of glue
Highly innovative at all times yet with the conspicuous absence of Icarus-esque doom
Track Name: Jelly Beans
Jelly Beans
Lyrics By Airborne Mark

Long before the alarm clock mercilessly rang
I’d woken up with a distaste in my mouth
After I scoffed bowelfuls of porridge and spruced myself up
I reluctantly faced yet another arduous task
Not that I hold anything against a lively class
Some unruly individuals goofing about
Or odd food fight at lunchtime
Or even perhaps an occasional mayhem at playtime
Quite the opposite
I’d rather relish it most of the time
Yet there is this uneasiness about
Since there is literally no recollection of me harbouring a dream of being a teacher
But now I’m standing by the interactive white board
Nervously clenching the register
As time is irrevocably up, the sweat is trickling by the bucket loads down my spine
Out of the blue, the playground bell tolls out a sobering shockwave that chills my spine
Panic rushes in as little shuffling feet reach the corridors of Key Stage One
Bail out for life or better duck for cover as in air raid
But there’s no time
As I’m about to lock myself away in a PE cupboard with hearty provisions of Jelly Beans to binge on till home time
Bright and breezy, carefree five year olds have already occupied the carpet space in the twinkling of an eye
Heartfelt “Hello Mister C” in a string of amusing variations swiftly reverberates in the class
And I crack open and I’m won over at least for a while.

No longer a split personality
Airborne Mark on and above the streets
Now in complete peace with Mister C nurturing these primary school kids
How awesome to finally live a life which is totally wholesome
As long as I know who I am, even more so everybody around me blossoms

Many morning registers later
Each child not a tick yet a rough diamond with a promise ahead
Now I see them clearly struggle with challenges of a learning curve
We share daily tears, joy and sweat
With time brilliance glints off dazzlingly from within their depth
However more often than not I’d rather be somewhere else
In a galaxy far far away like priming a canvas or laying down a verse
Nevertheless in this dark hour, encumbered under piles of marking
Mustn’t I overlook this germinating seed
Hey “Mister C” water it watchfully with words of encouragement
See it a budding flower of significance to live

No longer a split personality
Airborne Mark on and above the streets
Now in complete peace with Mister C nurturing these primary school kids
How awesome to finally live a life which is totally wholesome
Track Name: Carry On
CARRY ON
Lyrics By Airborne Mark

Nowadays my neck aches more than right hand while painting
I’m craning it constantly, consumed by anxiety
Actually I’d be safer doing again night back jumps rather than being hassled by fame driven Tony Hawk proskaters and Marc Ecko getting-up writers in broad daylight on the Southbank
Respect is not the aim of the game anymore
Skate-parks, halls of fame and basket-ball courts used to be safe havens
Breakers, graff writers and BMX riders were getting along much more together
Not that there were no hairy dust-ups
Battles were critical, they rose the bar up
But why is it more likely today to exchange knife blows with strangers than high fives?

Those kids drive me crazy
They make me write these earnest songs
It's them out on the streets not in the classroom that makes me carry on x2

Rappers pursue blindly enslaving record deals
Get me on stage ASAP
Preferably, the attitude of a humble busy-bee is not as necessary
Give me the honey, I’m in for accolade, alloy rims and lassies
No wonder, records and videos reflect those insecurities
No thank you, long ago I turned off this uninspiring music TV of puffed up egos
Clad with bells and whistles of a never satisfied soul.
Dogged by white elephants to plug whistling hollows with
And the list goes on
And the list goes on

Those kids drive me crazy … x2

Having seen much, my deep concern is for the street
Firstly, I think of kids
So the abundant life I live I put proudly on a candle stick
I back it up with work of great quality
Elevating lines of aerosol artistry narrated with rhyming words of hope and increase
As youngsters aspire to what they see and hear
This is what I’m determined to fuel the streets with
Either as Airborne Mark, thePilot or Mister C

Those kids drive me crazy … x2
Track Name: Wind / Vapour / Dew / Frost
Wind / Vapour / Dew / Frost
Lyrics By Airborne Mark

I saw you passing by swiftly like a wind-swept evening cloud
Actually, you were more like a swallow taking off from a rest on a tree branch
I pondered what possibly could’ve upped the beat of such a fragile heart
Because of the breeze sweeping hair over your face
I think I must’ve misread that fright, quite, as I’m certain till today
There was a sparkle welling up in the corner of your eye
Which by the way eclipsed that traffic light
You saw me not, I froze for hours and now was abruptly brought to the ground
Honking cacophony kick-started me on
“It’s green mate!” shouted angrily a stubbly face in a sleek cabriolet
“Move along”
Not entirely awake I collected my disarrayed thoughts
Too many yards later, I turned round to find you in crowds flooding that bus stop
But in a rut of heavy traffic I was involuntarily swept along with the flow
And I didn’t see either which double decker you briskly hopped on


Wind, vapour is all that you are
Dew, frost in the palm of my hand
For a happily ever after ending
Let’s open this dream with a mere chat
Will you ever stop?
Will you ever turn round? X 2

Few weeks later I was on a school outing to an amusement park
First tickles of the summer sun made it almost perfect apart from me being somewhat frantic
Eyes all around, hand in hand with cheeky Mickey
Who would NOT follow any rules
Who would NOT be bribed with extra play time
Instead he would eagerly break out trying to score a homerun
Then you sparkled dazzlingly, with the exhilaration of a treasure hunter I fished out skilfully those diamond eyes from the bustling mass
Options supersonically raced through my mind
Had to forfeit it all of course as there was no choice at all
Stuck right there with the class shadowing behind my back
Then It struck me
Attention Year 1! We will go on the teapots in a while
Not to lose you again we followed the ripe cherry balloon you just bought
Round the corner by River Rapids
You suddenly stopped, so we stopped
Kids cheered but you moved, we followed on and the kids booed
Another corner, another unscheduled Stop. Emergency here, sick Lourdes and Ayoub with a nosebleed
Later on, slightly delayed we finally caught up
Fixated on the heart shaped balloon, I’ll chat you up in the queue for a coffee one afternoon
Hopefully soon
Another corner, negotiating a candy floss cart
Finally out of the leafy alley into a sardine-packed square
Too late. I lost you right there. There was only one you but millions of selfsame red balloons bobbing in the air

Wind, vapour is all that you are
Dew, frost in the palm of my hand
For a happily ever after ending
Let’s open this dream with a mere chat
Will you ever stop?
Will you ever turn round? X 2
Track Name: The Life You Can't See
The Life You Can’t See
Lyrics By Airborne Mark

Immaculately creased trousers, a stripped tie and smart shoes
I collect thoughts against my tingling stomach
Seconds away form nine in the mo…still long hours before the wrap up in the afternoon
Buzzing kids fill in the classroom
Carpet time a hullabaloo for starters, urchins told off “Cease that football cards barter”
Angels with zipped lips and hands in laps, prodigies scanning eye catching displays and colourful maps
At the back spoilt brats noisily elbowing each other, at the front a mousy nipper sobbing after his working two jobs mother
Enough, I sound the tambourine
Thinking caps on, listening ears
I’m the captain of this cloud-fairing ship
Taking them to new highs and patiently revisiting the islands to which we’ve already been
Out of the blue, a silver cloud’s passing by, I catch a cursory glimpse of my reflection in it
and there he is, the other mark, the airborne one
I crack a smile, wave, he mirrors the kindness back then the northerly wind carries away his shout
As we land I see the kids off, they run happily into their parents’ arms, carelessly dropping their new found treasures on the ground
Waving zany Mister C goodbye, they think he lives in the book corner
Eating plasticine for dinner, having a whale of time with toys they’re only allowed in Golden Time
Tomorrow where we finished the journey we’ll simply pick up
Meanwhile, I fold the tie away and scoot off to yet another open mic…
To rap my soul out



You think you know me but you really don’t
You look at my life but this book with its cover doesn’t fit your pigeonhole
No wonder it’s a flying manual and
an inexhaustible treasure trove of paper planes folds

You think you know me but you really don’t
You look at my life but this book with its cover doesn’t fit your pigeonhole
No wonder it’s a kite building compendium
And another a bulky treasure trove of paper planes folds

At the increasing sound of a drum roll, I launch myself sprightly onto the deck
Probing spotlight dazzles me uneasy, barely do I open my mouth
Two thirds of the audience already sneer at me
The remaining fraction is on a toilet break or at the bar
What’s the point of bearing my soul to a crowd?
I came down with some heartfelt spoken word, to them it’s clearly a stand up
Mobiles out and recording this square peg in a round hole
Lo and behold, an English rapping Pole
Telling whimsical stories of soaring kites, of being a dictionary mole and a scooter buff
“He’s a primary school teacher, right!”
Indeed a grand gag. We’re all in stitches
“Give us a break” You must be a shrewd east European plumber at best
If they had any rotten tomatoes or eggs, they would definitely hurl them right now
“He’s completely safe behind those aviation goggles anyway” they would justify
If I took that derision, I’d hardly elevate to my apt name
I‘m so at home with myself, for there’s more heaven than earth
I wish you had guts to boldly live your dreams
Therefore, especially for you I wholeheartedly throw those paper planes


You think you know me but you really don’t
You look at my life but this book with its cover doesn’t fit your pigeonhole
No wonder it’s a flying manual and
an inexhaustible treasure trove of paper planes folds

You think you know me but you really don’t
You look at my life but this book with its cover doesn’t fit your pigeonhole
No wonder it’s a kite building compendium
And another treasure trove of paper planes folds
Track Name: A.I.R 'Beyond Midnight' Remix
A.I.R
Lyrics By Airborne Mark

They say relentlessly my heaven-sent accent is spot on wacky
They keep mispronouncing my name
Arguably, its Google-ability is not as fantastic
Anyway, I’m simply cracka-lacking painstakingly tracking exciting words to make this beat pumping.
So now I’m explicitly stamping my mark with the panache of a post office clerk sending airmail
Do I really need to spell the name out over PA?
Anyhow, all aboard, this flight is bound to highly entertain
I’m airborne, not urban. Though indeed I fly with supremacy on and above the street
My identity is not in faking the immaculate accents of BBC
Nor in a twang of a born and bread LDN rapper, hailing from south, west, east or north
To spare you all those nonsense postcode wars, I’m always heaven wards
Witness the crown toppling take off . Blast off.
My tongue more cutting edge that a Spitfire’s Propeller
My cranium hotter than a burner at full throttle
Ever increasing uplifting vocab like Phileas Fogg’s hot air balloon
In 80 slips of my tongue I brave turbulences and travel across galaxies
I’m a sunset contrail conductor
You’re right, by no means I have this earthly X factor
But there’s more to Airborne Mark though
My identity is written within Alfa and Omega as I’m born from Above

Give me A
Give me I
Give me R
Airborne Mark carried through the air with a plane-load of Jester’s love

I’m not a turtledove, a pigeon nor a seagull
I’m equal to the eagle
Aviating with the aptitude excelling that of Porco Rosso, Pirx and Biggles
One and only true ace in the place
Stay aground amazed as I loop the loop with tremendous grace
Off the face of the planet, with a pull, up, up and away
Running on the common
Scribbling on the blue sky with the finesse of a billowing tail
More in a manner of a kite than a bird or a plane
To those mind boggling linguistics aerobatics crowds cant help but react
Let alone to the goggles round my neck, a fluttering scarf
What’s on earth with launching off the stage all that paper-craft?
I’m Abso-Jolly-Lutely distinctive, I soar sunwards unlike the ostrich and the penguin
Definitely not with handmade wings of a fistful of feathers and a dollop of glue
Highly innovative at all times yet with the conspicuous absence of Icarus-esque doom

Give me A
Give me I
Give me R
Airborne Mark carried through the air with a plane-load of Jester’s love