Single MATT KAYE – The Suburban Song

Matt Kaye

(Akord Records / Kulturni center Maribor, Javna muzika Maribor, ARLP 003 / FREE LP 028, 2018)

Akord Records, a label under Kulturni center Maribor has published the single:

The song will be released on the upcoming album Matt Kaye – The Guardian

The single is available through the following links:

video single:
mp3 zip:
wav zip:

MATT KAYE – Born in 1975 in Maribor, Slovenia (EU). Suffering from mild, but defining case of cerebral palsy from birth, he published his first book in 1988 and started combining poetry and music into a singer-songwriter routine in 1992. Between 1998 and 2017 he recorded 126 albums for various labels, participated in nearly every important literary-music festival, worked for national radio and other media as a musical connoisseur, and wrote/translated around 70 books as a member of Slovenia’s National Writers’ Association and National Literary Translators Association. He is also a member of Slovenian PEN and MIRA organizations. He has written several non-fiction books, including books on the works of Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley, The Beatles and Slovenian singer Oto Pestner. He has translated poems and wrote professional articles and biographies on Alexander Pope, Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits, Bruce Springsteen, Kris Kristofferson and many others. He writes musical/literary reviews and articles for many important newspapers and reviews in Slovenia, incl. Delo (Književni listi), Odzven, Nova muska, Glasna, and Literatura. He writes in English as Matt Kaye and records in Slovene as Matej Krajnc, Matt Kaye and Blind Boy Spectacles (gospel and blues standards). 


The ambulance wants to be heard
Over whispers of suburban misery
Look how those houses have aged
And railroad still crosses the highway
Where you would least expect it
And trees look like Donovan Leitch

Look at these hands on pianos
In those nightclubs with five people listening
And the band’s getting up to five thumbs
The rain is still playing the postman
And someone’s back from another delivery
Walking through this city on crumbs

I have my fears, I admit it
I dread of the ambulance passing
With sounds that just pierce thru my bones
But nothing disturbes me as much as
The silence from aforementioned railroad
With no trains, just time movin’ on

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