1. |
Dead Key Drawer
04:25
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you wake up, if that’s what you care to call it
curse the sun that creeps in through the cracks
give a shake and wish upon that old magic 8 ball
that always says “don’t count on it” no matter what you ask
nobody sets out to be forgotten
nobody intends to be had
every snare the hunters laid is rotten
lying in the dust of Khorsabad
all those puppy teeth were so so sharp
before the years of grinding in your jaw
everyone remembers you a gold star shining
nobody remembers when the sky went dark
the dead key drawer in the hall reminds you
that every key outlives the lock it serves
every snare the hunters set to bind you
is just a kiss across your haptic nerve
a million prisoners paint the walls of their million cells
each brick the colour of a brick
each lightbulb painted the colour of the light
each thing disguised exactly as itself
the dead key drawer in the hall reminds you
that every key is bound to be forgot
and every light the wardens set to blind you
illuminates all their secret thoughts
nobody sets out to be forgotten
but here we sit beneath Dur-Sharrukin
every snare the wardens laid is rotten
the dead key drawer gapes to draw you in
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2. |
High / Low
02:49
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I’ve got a place, where I feel it inside
when I hang with my sisters and brothers
there ain’t no problem that we can’t figure out
when we stand hand in hand with each other
daytime, nighttime, last to the first
what you need? what you want? it’s a blessing or curse
there ain’t no problem that we can’t figure out
when we stand hand in hand with each other
oooo yay yay
when I feel high, when I feel low
you are the one, the place I go
the least amongst us are the ones to build up
it would seem such an obvious notion
it’s like a mountain, when you stand on the top
you can see clear from ocean to ocean
lovers, fighters, it’s all the same
when you’re in the same boat there’s nobody to blame
just like a mountain, when you stand on the top
you can see clear from ocean to ocean
“time and tide...”,
the realization that moves me
buckle up for the ride,
I hear it might get bumpy
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3. |
Dark Star
03:47
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you are a barrel of oil
walking around with your head on fire
i am burning blackly just like
you -- just like you
we, we are two dark stars
that shine in the sign of the trust fund kid
we are the sound of the ox -y -gen
leaving the room
o dark star; shine bright while you still can
o dark star
o dark star; the world breaks in your hand
o dark star
you are a bag of syringes
caught in the fence by a landfill site
i am all sharps and hollows
lost beside you there.
we, we are two failed fledglings
pushed from the nest of the trust fund kid
we are the sound of everything
that fails to bloom
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4. |
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some poor kid in Sioux Falls South Dakota
fails a surprise drug test at his shitty WalMart job
he wakes up in a cell and he’s been saddled with a felony
do not pass GO, go straight to hell and while
Richard Nixon’s latest victim spends
15 years in prison
for 11 grams of hash
in an unnamed Mexican village
a suitcase full of unmarked cash
buys medicine and safety
from the death squads of the Right:
maybe the narco-terrorists were right.
Some asshole from Canada
wakes up with a plan:
you will get nada as the CIA
takes away your farm
in the name of an efficiency
that doesn’t scan your broken heart
or mend your broken lands
hungry in the barrio
you watch the capitalistas grow
fat and rich while you burn slow
with socialism on the radio
and you begin to see the light
in the darkness of the night
maybe the narco-terrorists are right
some dry gulch farmer in Venezuela’s no-man’s land
waits for Marxist rebels to bring
doctors, water, this year’s seeds
the bad guys with the guns are all that
makes the infrastructure run
sanctions broke the government and when the
final petro-dollar’s spent
parrots sing machine gun songs
to kids collecting scrap
and when the trucks roll up
there are some questions you don’t dare to ask, like
“where did all these guns get made?”
or “who really destroyed my life?”
you just thank god for a respite
from the never-ending plight
and you think today the narco-terrorists are right
today the narco terrorists are…
right.
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5. |
Make Us Go
03:23
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started out hardwired;
we the lucky ones
60 billions circles
around 10 billion empty suns
take it with a grain of salt
we climb towards the light
ticking atom hearts
primed to detonate on sight
Am I in control of this brain behind the wheel?
What is it I set my mind to, imagined or real?
Searching for it high, searching for it low
Modus operandi
We look for things that make us go
carved to be a well-oiled gear
machines inside machines
taught to spin a perfect circle
to take one for the team
take it with a grain of salt
we chase the perfect hit:
dopamine disguised as love
salt lemon on our lips
Am I in control of this brain behind the wheel?
What is it I set my mind to, imagined or real?
Searching for it high, searching for it low
Modus operandi
We look for things that make us go
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6. |
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the darkness is
the worst kind of friend
leaves the door wide open,
coos “come on in, come on in.”
the lip of sorrow
hides the sweetest kiss
you will forget everything but this.
keep your heart in the light
keep your hand on the line
keep your heart in the light
and take your time
sleepwalk through the day,
spin the wheel all night
tell yourself you feel alright -
just to feel alright
the hand of sorrow
holds a perfect pill. it says
‘you will be well, you will be well.’
keep your heart in the light...
and take your
time to know the shapes your shadow
makes behind the curtain
of the night; take your time
to make things right
take your time to learn the sound of your heart
beating back the silence
of the grave; learn to live
in light and sound. learn to be saved.
the darkness is
the worst kind of friend
leaves the door wide open,
coos ‘come on in’
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7. |
Poor Boy
03:44
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Sun creepin’ in;
there’s a crack in the curtain
Where’d the time go?
I just woke up a while ago
Stretch and yawn; coffee’s on
In a mug that you lent me,
on a saucer you sent me
Starin’ up
at a crack in the ceiling
I pinch myself to prove
that I’ve got no feeling
For you…or anything you do
Hey look in the paper:
they’re looking for waiters.
I’ll write you that letter I promised you soon
And I won’t be a poor boy no more.
Oh she turns and she twirls,
her head held up high
My memories’ reflection
catches sun in her eye
Humble and meek,
I don’t dare take a peek
Lest my boyish reflection
get stung by rejection
So I read a book,
I watch the tap drip
I make little animals
out of old paper towels
I’ll write you that letter I promised you soon
And I won’t be a poor boy no more.
Is it too late to unfurl the flags of redemption
You called it distasteful, this symbolic erection
Of an effigy of love like a voice from above
Sayin’ I need you…
Sundown’s getting near; why am I here?
Oh where’d the time go? I just woke up an hour ago.
I’ll write you that letter I promised you soon
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8. |
Talk to the Wolves
04:29
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the wolves have been seen
hanging ‘round town again
wearing their soft grey suits
and smoking their cigarettes
everyone knows
what they’re on about
but no-one can say
or their throat winds up cut:
no-one can talk to the wolves
like smoke they glide through the trees
drifting like memories
of places you’ll never be
of things you won’t live to regret
everyone knows
they’re powerless to harm you
unless you believe—
and you do, and they’re sure of it
no-one can talk to the wolves
in dreams they surround me,
relentless, remorseless
with blanks in their eyes
like unfinished portraits
painted on knife-blades
or carved into bone chips
‘we’re sorry,’ they tell me;
‘we don’t want to do this.’
‘we’re sorry,’ they say,
and they smile at me, lipless and grey
the sky that we know
is just a pale silhouette
of another sky we never see
even higher up overhead
everyone knows
where they were when the lights went out
but no-one can say
when it got so damn dark
no-one can talk to the wolves
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9. |
Lucky
04:01
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Lucky, lucky for me
Didn’t get what I want
I got what I needed, now it’s
Lucky; I look and I find
Faithful and true
Those are the friends of mine
I’m ready to let go of the wheel
Trust not what I think but what I feel
I’m ok to stumble and get bruised
Whatever it takes to find my truth
Lucky? Who is to say?
The shirt on my back,
Less is more anyway
Now I’m lucky, lucky for sure
I’m right here, right now
That’s all the proof I need!
There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to go
Nothing to have, nothing to show
Finding the reason on the way
Never have I seen better days
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minimum Hamilton, Ontario
minimum is Tom Shea, Mike Blais, Kevin Woolfe and Doug Scott.
The band formed in 2016 to stage a 30
minute speed performance of The Who’s Quadrophenia and the rest is history.
Their music fuses tight pop-rock harmonies and lyrical songwriting with diverse sonic textures and shifting rhythmic grooves that will make you want to dance like everyone is watching.
... more
minimum recommends:
The Jordan Lake Sessions: Volumes 1 and 2
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All your favourite Mountain Goats songs (well, half of them, anyhow) played live by a fiery, excited band.
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Serrated alt-rock from this Washington group hits the perfect combo of big riffs and bigger hooks.
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Rising Philadelphia band balance oversized pop punk hooks with vivid, intimate lyrics, presenting a raw, honest vision of guitar music.
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Too Prickly For This World
by Wife Patrol
Wife Patrol make instantly catchy alt rock with streaks of punk, new wave, and metal, overlaid with Bangles-esque harmonies.
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The Australian indie-pop duo's latest album is centered on strong friendships and common struggles.
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