Biography:
Little Comets are an English indie rock trio from Jarrow and Washington, Tyne and Wear, formed in 2008. They are described as playing "kitchen sink indie" music. In early 2009 the band were signed to Columbia Records following numerous gigs in strange locations such as lecture theatres and various modes of public transport and support from DJ Huw Stephens. After departing their major record label they released their début album, In Search of Elusive Little Comets, on 31 January 2011.
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Four years of hard work!This month of May we celebrated four years on the air. We continue working on the dissemination of this wonderful instrument, thank you for participating in our story!
F#m E F#m E
I’m a mat and I still retain
F#m E C#m
Accumulated stories of the tawdry years
F#m E F#m E
I’ve been stamped out by rum-fuelled boots
F#m E C#m
The brute, us hiding under stairs.
A E C#m
Waiting for his thunder to hit
A E C#m
Waiting for his thunder and thinking is this it?
A E C#m
Waiting for his thunder to shout
A E C#m
Waiting for his thunder to tire itself out.
So I lie flat, in sheets worn thin
By his sublimations that reside within
For I’m the truth, the two in ten
That suffer at the whims of the weakest men.
Waiting for his thunder…
A E A E Fm
Each bruise I use as a chronicle of all that you gave me now
A E A E C#m
And every scar a reminder of the power that you had
The saddest part about the darkest hours
The implication that the fault was ours.
Waiting for his thunder…
I’m a mat and I still retain
F#m E C#m
Accumulated stories of the tawdry years
F#m E F#m E
I’ve been stamped out by rum-fuelled boots
F#m E C#m
The brute, us hiding under stairs.
A E C#m
Waiting for his thunder to hit
A E C#m
Waiting for his thunder and thinking is this it?
A E C#m
Waiting for his thunder to shout
A E C#m
Waiting for his thunder to tire itself out.
So I lie flat, in sheets worn thin
By his sublimations that reside within
For I’m the truth, the two in ten
That suffer at the whims of the weakest men.
Waiting for his thunder…
A E A E Fm
Each bruise I use as a chronicle of all that you gave me now
A E A E C#m
And every scar a reminder of the power that you had
The saddest part about the darkest hours
The implication that the fault was ours.
Waiting for his thunder…
Little Hours
little hurricane
Little India
Little Jimmie Di (...)
Little Jimmy Dic (...)