1. |
||||
|
Last night, unchained and hot
while you straddled me,
I timed the pulse of lights
on distant radio towers.
We stayed up on that golf course,
the sprinklers came on
and the sticky violet sky over the city
blew apart.
Late night when I drove home
to a darkened house,
next door a light was on:
my neighbor’s wife had died.
The shade on my window
rustled through the night.
|
||||
2. |
||||
|
Big bus rattling on to Providence.
I’ve been laughing at my feet more often,
I’ve been laughing at my feet:
they’re like frogs.
Here’s the booze: where are the red ideals?
They grew old like the kids on that talk show
that were raisins at 17,
married to their rare disease.
“I take him to a topless bar.
We have a couple drinks,” the father says,
“Life is short.”
New York, New York:
I haven’t felt so heavy since the mail rooms
and the cubicles and the sunless days.
I might as well be paid by the hour.
Well, I know that I can hang my shoes
in any shitty city rotting on the branch
in New England,
but it’s hard to find booze on a Sunday.
Big bus rattling on to Providence.
|
||||
3. |
Whiteout
00:44
|
|||
4. |
||||
5. |
||||
|
I saw a picture and I thought of you
and the gloomy Christ on your bedroom door:
a clown sits in a giant swing
in the shadows high above the forest floor.
The same tempera blare,
the same tenebrous eyes that dogged your little friends around the room.
Somehow you told yourself a secret joke
and I envied you because I couldn't laugh.
The house is burning and the clowns are down
in the basement slaughtering a fatted calf.
And as they crackle like thorns blazing under a pot
you cross your eyes and cross yourself and grin
like its some sort of play we're in.
Well, I was wrong, but I thought at the time
that you were after that calfskin.
Remember, sister, when the baby comes,
that to miss the mark's the only mortal sin.
Our father hit it running eggs for years
to the local stores until the chains came in,
and if he blackened at Christmas and totaled the truth
he'd find his way into the velvet booth.
Starting to think something happened here
in the dead of night when you and I were small.
A man broke in, left a pile of gifts,
and took the Kennedys from the parlor wall,
Saying I know that you're good for it brother,
like all the shlubs who drive their own sun out to shine
from nine to nine,
park it downtown, ride home on the red line.
I was alive when that blizzard hit,
I don't remember but I've seen the super-8s.
People asphyxiating in their cars
and there was martial law in parts of some Northeastern states.
And there's Miracle Car Wash, and you and your friends
are making high-speed angels in the road.
|
||||
Jack O' The Clock Oakland, California
JACK O' THE CLOCK "presents a fine lesson on what it means to write songs that are at once approachable and human while simultaneously being incredibly profound in terms of timbre, depth of emotion, and harmonic complexity," Progulator.
If you like Jack O' The Clock, you may also like:
Leaving California
by Jack O' the Clock
supported by 33 fans who also own “No Outlet (volume 2: 2014-2018)”
This rather astounding record can't really be categorized - musically, it's so full of everything and so original that a short description is impossible. It is superbly played. The words are FANTASTIC and I would have chosen The Butcher as my favourite if the app had allowed me to ;-)
go to album
supported by 17 fans who also own “No Outlet (volume 2: 2014-2018)”
Always love musick and art coming out of Brattleboro VT but this really spun my head around, love the crazy atonal indie folk vibes! Bought a CD, can’t wait to hear it on my car speakers!
go to album
supported by 15 fans who also own “No Outlet (volume 2: 2014-2018)”
The new live EP by Ryan W. Stevenson's project reminded me, that this debut album must have been gone down the wishlist... If instrumental Canterbury stuff is your thing, this should be a no-brainer. Firmly rooted in the past (late 60s, 70s), nevertheless with a fresh sound. Guests incude The Tangent's Andy Tillison and Soft Machine's Theo Travis.
go to album
Sparkling and knotty indie rock from this Australian group with interlocking guitars and shifting rhythms.
go to album
UK singer-songwriter Alex Pester perfects his homespun baroque pop on an vast, largely home-recorded LP that finds elegance in simplicity.
go to album
Siren/Zero Double EP
by Obscura Hail
Juggling art rock, chamber folk, and bedroom pop, Obscura Hail's double EP charts vast stylistic terrain with confidence and ease.
go to album
Putting Off Death
by CHEER-ACCIDENT
supported by 12 fans who also own “No Outlet (volume 2: 2014-2018)”
Unfathomably brilliant! This band reinvents reinvention.
go to album
