THIS IS A NEW ALBUM BY ARTHUR AND DAN OF
BLASTING TROUT OVERBITE.
FEATURING THESE SONGS:
01 terry port (mp3)(flac)
02 ed grain pts 1&2 (mp3)(flac)
03 peanutbutter stack (mp3)(flac)
04 movin' right along (mp3)(flac)
05 dreyfus mcdryfus (mp3)(flac)
06 ed grain pt 3 (mp3)(flac)
07 john gravy (mp3)(flac)
08 mastodon jones (mp3)(flac)
09 gregory samson (mp3)(flac)
10 paul potts (mp3)(flac)
11 jeff drama (mp3)(flac)
12 awkward ho! (mp3)(flac)
13 you're the end (mp3)(flac)
PREFACE:
Tacitly related
anecdotes, insights, insults and plebiscites as companions to this "recorded"
piece of sound "entertainment"
by Neil Barbour
On a gray Thursday last
week, my bike and I traversed the few blocks
that separate us from the oceanfront. We make this trip often, the two of
us, to stare out onto the waves and to race around all the interesting
parking structures waiting for the summer tourists.
"My life is becoming a waste
of time," I sulk while I zing down a
concrete bevelment. Whee! "But, oh, the only noble and
worthwhile
things on this earth don't earn anyone a decent wage," I lament as I
thrust up
the handlebars to ease my passing back onto Chestnut Street. Woo-hoo!
My presumptuous sense of history
and present, respectively, is not so
much a helpful fiction as it is an embarrassingly simple dollhouse
tableau made for my entertainment. My sense of history is a small room
with a few pieces of furniture and an empty shell of an upright
half-ape, half-man that I position at will. Sit here, fictional
ancestor, and perform the natural act of expression. Kneel there,
crouched to breathe in the earth's sulfurs, Abraham, and perform
selfless acts of art to inflict yourself on the ages.
But pardon me if the tableaus filed
in this passably "human" record,
"Men," which I hope you might have even started
listening to in
sequential order, don't inspire what feels so much like human nature –
like a helpful sense of our beginnings. This is the story of the of
men who beat, berate, befriend, bemuse and best one another for the
sake of killing time and finding self.
Let's play a game. Whipee!
Consider your life as the narrative,
the history, you design as a
definition of self. Then, consider the many moments you're clearly not
in step with usual tone and pacing with which your overall narrative
tends to flow. Then, catch yourself noticing the absence of your
essence in these metaphysical moments of benighted vanity and
worthlessness.
What does your head feel like in
a bucket of eels? Ask a silly
question. Whoop, whoop!
Now, imagine yourself as one of
the many characters featured in this
"music" album, which perhaps you are already into song 2 or 3 of.
Really absorb yourself into their aims, their arms, their ambitions
and their alms. Feel a little silly? Now, list for yourself the three
things you hope to get done tomorrow, the next few years, the rest of
your life. Have I forgotten how to talk?
There are moments of Men that insist
that essence and absence of self
belong not just near one another, but perhaps they're of the same
moment. Arthur's silly voices and doppelgangers aren't just a good
time, they're also really unsettling.
Ed Grain's horrifying,
senseless kidnapping and the insistence that he
live under the sea start to unravel in the song's second division. The
organ and vocals dissociate, some guitar plucking finds itself in the
middle of the mix -- as confused with itself as you are of it. Has
Arthur's out-of-body experience scared even himself? And the
senselessness starts to solidify. Behold! His story!
"I'm in danger of becoming
as boring and forgetful as I always accused
my parents of being," I mutter in my hands not to, but at, my friend.
I'm driving him on the day of his minor surgery to remove a small
cancer. It's grown somewhere near his earlobe and hasn't spread. But
I'm very hung-over and very weepy in the way that I like to pretend
I'm not. That evening I spend 10 dollars trying to win Aaron's Party
out of an arcade crane game.
I have no idea who I am. Pa-tang, squeal!
And what of John Gravy's philo-political
(the worst clash of
irrealities I can think of) nightmare of being reduced, literally,
into the musty ennui that squeezes itself between discovering and
losing oneself in moments between being oneself. Not really
understanding the proper division of these realities becomes a sort of
call to arms for these realities to co-exist. Or, stop trying so hard!
And, oh, what of the friend's I've
left behind and the one's I'll
never make? They'll never require anything of me but a scant memory of
my awkward dealings that interrupt their own self-aware sense on
inadequacy and guilt. How wude!
That's not even really touching
on the truly infectious moments on
this record. "Jeff Drama" reeks of the pot-soaked early '90s of
Evan
Dando, but, you know, a lot funnier. And fuck "Rainbow Connection."
Nobody casts a bitter Muppet aside better than Dan J. This record is a
rowboat fashioned with 40 horses of PA system and enough rusty nails
and rotting plywood to build all the dead-end planks and pagan love
Chilton. See what I did there?
Violence, vertigo and vision quests
notwithstanding, there's not much
to do on my bike or on the boat. Or, better for the both of us,
perhaps you're 5 or 6 songs into this "audible" recording, in which
case, you should start over and really listen, man. Otherwise, how
will you know when it's appropriate to be you and when your
sniveling, miniscule concept of appropriateness has become a needless
apposition? Woo-hoo!
---
LYRICS
|
01 TERRY PORT We are going to the death place in a blood boat Terry Port from the port of the port... We are going to the death place in a blood boat 02 ED GRAIN PTS 1 & 2 I met him in an upside-down barn Ed Grain is coming for a ride We stopped for a break on I-5085 Ed Grain is coming with me He's coming with me to the sea It's just gonna be him and me in the sea In the sea there are no disgruntled fish 03 PEANUTBUTTER STACK My peanutbutter stack is the highest on the block Peanutbutter stack, I want some answers I will peanutbutter stack you if you let the secret
out Peanutbutter stack, I want those answers Peanutbutter stack on top of peanutbutter jam Peanutbutter stack, I don't have those answers Peanutbutter stack, I want some answers 04 MOVIN RIGHT ALONG Movin' right along in search of good times and good
news Movin' right along, foot-loose and fancy-free Movin' right along we found a life on the highway Movin' right along, hey LA, where've you gone? Movin' right along, we're truly birds of a feather Movin' right along, do I see signs of men 05 DREYFUS MCDRYFUS Dreyfus McDryfus puts his head into the bucket of eels Dreyfus McDryfus v. Kansas Board of Education Dreyfus McDryfus stars in Richard the Third 2 Part
11 I'm in the table on the table Dreyfus McDryfus shoots thunderbolts from his eyes 06 ED GRAIN PT 3 Friends who can't breathe underwater are boring Ed Grain, it's like rain, but there's more of it Submarine sandwich in the morning 07 JOHN GRAVY I have come to you with a matter of grave import Looking through the glass to the other side I am your friend, John Gravy (This dream has trapped me, father My friend, let me tell you of my philosophical beliefs I am your friend, John Gravy (As I descend through the grain, father Tell me, John Gravy |
08 MASTODON
JONES The snow is cold I've got some new skulls for Mastodon Jones The cave is dark I've got some new skulls for Mastodon Jones If I could escape his grasp But I am stuck I've got some new skulls for Mastodon Jones 09 GREGORY SAMSON Well Gregory Samson was a pilot flyin' high above the
sea a million years later in the belly of a whale Well Gregory Samson did see somethin' towards him start
to walk Greg Samson grabbed that nasty man and threw him to
the ground Well the years went past and Gregory lived them day
by day Well late one night when Gregory had turned old and
grey and frail Greg Samson staggered to his feet and found the strength
to walk The stranger grabbed Greg Samson and threw him to the
ground 10 PAUL POTTS Paul Potts in the middle of a clearing under a tree Paul P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-Potts I might be kidding when I tell you I'm me Thumb A to the people in the parking lots 11 JEFF DRAMA Jeff Drama is a fa'ma Jeff Drama, 'e's a bahma Jeff Drama's got yer nomma, Plee' escuse Jeff Drama 12 AWKWARD HO! Coming down the tracks It is time for us to leave Awkward ho! Take your parents to the memory zoo We will never come back 13 YOU'RE THE END My friend, you're the end |
CREDITS
All lyrics and vocals by Arthur Bond (above, right), except:
lyrics on 04 by Kenny Ascher.
lead vocals on 01 and 13 and additional vocals on 04 and 11 by Dan Jircitano.
additional vocals on 11 by April Brennan.
All music written by Dan Jircitano (above, left), except:
music on 04 by Paul Williams.
music on 11 co-written by April Brennan.
Arthur Bond plays the drums, the harmonica, and most of the organ parts.
Dan Jircitano plays the acoustic and electric guitar, the ukelele, the mandolin, the danjo, and the other organ parts.
April Brennan plays the jaw harp on 11.
Dan and April's parts were recorded in Dan's home in North East, PA.
Arthur's were recorded in his bedroom in Baltimore, MD.
At no point did Arthur and Dan play the songs together in person.
(c) 2006
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