

Song
Dead Air
Ollifax
•4:01•77 BPM•F•folk•dark
1 plays
0 downloads
Dead Air is a raw, unflinching account of industrial workers stranded on a frozen tower while radio silence from management leaves a man's life hanging in the balance. Built on sparse, urgent imagery and a relentless refrain, the song captures the gap between those who hold power and those who hold the rope. It is the kind of storytelling that stays with you long after the signal cuts out.
Musical Details
BPM
77
Key
F
Camelot
Fm
Credits
ComposerOllifax
LyricistOllifax
ProducerPeter Jaffray
MixingOllifax
MasteringOllifax
Copyright & Legal
Ollifax Music
PublisherOllifax Music
LabelOllifax Music
LicenseAll Rights Reserved
Recorded inThe Arctic
Lyrics
Red light blinking. Frost on glass. Push to talk. Nothing back. Control, come in. Control, come in. Dead air. Dead air. Dead air. Everybody talking. Nobody there. Dead air. Dead air. Call for help. Nothing there. Say you hear me. Say you care. Dead air. Dead air. Click. Click. No reply. Tick. Tick. Time goes by. Same voice. Same prayer. Everybody talking. Nobody there. Midnight shift. Forty below. Wind cuts sideways. Steel holds snow. Antenna shaking. Tower bends. Six men working. One bad end. Boots on grating. Ice on steel. One man slips. I hear him yell. Tether pulls tight. Carabiner bites. Glove seam splits. Under load. Thumb on transmit. Channel four. Request assistance. Nothing more. Wait for clearance. Wait for word. Wind keeps screaming. Nothing heard. Dead air. Dead air. Everybody talking. Nobody there. Dead air. Dead air. Call for help. Nothing there. Say you hear me. Say you care. Dead air. Dead air. Upstairs talking. Downstairs cold. Warm hands signing. Lives on hold. Three men pointing. One man falls. Four men waiting. Nobody calls. They got answers. For every screen. They got clean hands. And clean machines. They know numbers. They know names. Know who's paying. Know who's blamed. Tell us steady. Tell us wait. Tell us help. Is on the way. How much longer. How much weight. How many men. Can one rope take. Channel open. No one speaks. White knuckles. Cold teeth. Little red light. Blinking there. Whole damn world. Dead air. Dead air. Dead air. Everybody talking. Nobody there. Dead air. Dead air. Call for help. Nothing there. Say you hear me. Say you care. Dead air. Dead air. Copy. Copy. Nothing. Copy. Copy. Nothing. No reply. No reply. WE GOT A MAN. HANGING BELOW. HANDS TURNING BLUE. NOWHERE TO GO. YOU GOT THE CLOCK. WE GOT THE COLD. YOU GOT THE WORDS. WE GOT THE HOLD. One more minute. One more lie. One more minute. One man dies. DEAD AIR. DEAD AIR. EVERYBODY TALKING. NOBODY THERE. DEAD AIR. DEAD AIR. CAN YOU HEAR ME. ANYBODY THERE. Jaw clenched hard. Teeth taste copper. One hand shaking. Other holds tighter. Could cut loose. Could storm upstairs. Find that office. Find who's there. But he's still hanging. Below my feet. Rope still pulling. Through the sleet. Not that door. Not tonight. Hold this line. Keep him alive. Grip. Pull. Rise. Grip. Pull. Rise. Two men bracing. One man slides. Three sets of hands. Hold that line. Boots scrape metal. Knuckles tear. Nobody answered. We're still here. One final pull. He clears the edge. Chest still moving. Not quite dead. Copy. Copy that. Dead air. Dead air. Everybody talking. Nobody there. Dead air. Dead air. Call for help. Nothing there. Say you hear me. Say you care. Dead air. Dead air. No medals. No parade. No one coming. No one came. Six men breathing. Frost on glass. Radio died. Rope held fast. Red light blinking. Still no answer.
From Album
The Few
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