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Every year at half past midnight on January 27th,
Wolfgang rolls over in his grave as I get one step closer to heaven.
But yesterday he said to me,
Something very strange indeed,
That if one day we should disagree,
Then I should make like the Biebs and love myself in this harmony:
'Cuz I'm too happy to be sad and blue,
with friends like you,
I swear it's true!
And I'm too sunny for this raincloud day,
with smiles as strange,
As centigrade.
I know, I know there will be snow,
For so few tomorrows as in years ago,
When I was barely old enough to know,
How lucky a poor sap like me,
Could hope to be,
So fancy free.
I hear, I hear your heartfelt cheers,
Wishing me a hundred thousand years,
Before I should expect my slow inevitable death,
Which is why I couldn't be any more simply more tickled that you're here.
So thanks for stopping by!
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2. |
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Hey sunshine!
Need a little bit of my sunshine,
In the morning when I wake up,
Like the coffee in my cup.
Early morning rise & shine.
Didn't even know I had an appetite,
What I need ain't considered polite for the time of day,
Ask me once or ask me twice,
Ask me thrice if it shouldn't suffice,
But you know that my answer's the same when I smile and say:
Hey sunshine!
Need a little bit of my sunshine,
In the morning when I wake up,
Like the coffee in my cup.
Need a little bit of my sunshine,
Need a little bit of my sunshine, sunshine,
Need a little bit of my sunshine when I wake.
Late to bed & late to rise
That summer sun seemed catch me by surprise
When you know a little B&B never hurt no-one
Cream & sugar but not too much!
A glass of OJ with that sparkling touch,
when you know I could use another toast before I'm done,
Hey sunshine!
Need a little bit of my sunshine,
In the morning when I wake up,
Like the coffee in my cup.
I need a bit of my sunshine, I need a bit of my sunshine,
Need a little bit of my sunshine every day.
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3. |
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A mind, itās own prison
A parasite cast in nuclear fission
I am aghast and dismayed
At the lack of any salient vision
Wish that I could escape
Spit in the face of every single tradition
Imagine every single day
If I could just make every correct decision
But donāt you know you have to catch me first
When Iām the kind of guy whose drunk from thirst
When it goes from bad to worst
If you want me you know you have to catch me first
When Iām so far out of reach it hurts
Just like a cold or curse
Or even a body in a Hearse
Just like a body in a Hearse...
Now donāt you think for a minute,
That there is simply no effort in it,
Cuz when it comes down to business,
Nothing I do is ever finished.
And there can be no forgiveness,
But then again itās not the end now, is it?
Just Never enough for just one visit
Cause if you blink once then you just might miss it
But donāt you know you gotta to catch me firs,
When Iām the kind of guy who's drunk from thirst,
When it goes from bad to worse,
But donāt you know you gotta to catch me first,
When Iām so far out of reach it hurts,
Just like a cold or curse,
Or even a body in a Hearse
Donāt you know you have to catch me first,
When Iām the kind of guy who's drunk from thirst,
When it goes from bad to worse,
But don't you know you gotta catch me first,
When I'm so far out of reach it hurts,
Just like a cold or curse,
Or even a body in a Hearse...
Just like a body in a Hearse...
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4. |
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When I was a boy I would wait for the dawn
Before I could go to sleep.
The price of the day would be paid by retaining that sweet, sweet, sweet release.
And at midnight I will walk among those
Drunk on more than alcohol,
To those who climb higher than they would
Even dare of falling...
And you know it by the way they line up the same order that they came,
And I donāt blame them at all.
There are those here among us,
Who know theyāre the chorus,
For whom martyrs are slain,
Who still see others in chains,
Who are trying in vain,
To pay back the debts that we canāt wish away,
And I canāt compensate the Machiavellian ways,
That the rest of the world insists on operating,
So I twist and I turn as I yearn to relearn,
That itās more than a matter of waiting my turn.
And at midnight I will walk among those
"Holier than thouā demanding
Flesh in the raw,
While men made of straw,
Argue in the dark for too long,
And you know it by the way they type those first, last, and middle names, And I donāt blame them at all.
We happy few who die in love with
Cause over apprehension remember
Democracyās the dictatorship of whomever frames the question:
āFor who do you lock your doors my dear sweet friends?ā
And I donāt blame them at all...
Caffeine and THC, alcohol, melatonin in a symphony,
Sleep will be the death of me but if I get there first say a prayer for thee...
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5. |
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[Instrumental]
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6. |
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I think Iāve got a lot of thinking, I think Iāve got a lot of thinking to do.
I think Iāve got a lot of thinking about thinking about talking about thinking about talking to you.
And yes, I promise to be honest, yes, I promise to be honest and true.
Yes, I promise to be conscious, and honest, of all voices and all choices and all different points of view.
Then I fall into a landslide of my own self worth,
When it boils down to a choice of words,
Between myself and the herd?
Must I subscribe to the slow backslide of humanity,
or is it a matter of sanity, or the gravity,
that snakes between these nouns and verbs?
I was thinking of another word for love,
Thatās not the word I was sure I was thinking of,
But I thank you for your contribution to the size of my vocabulary.
I was thinking of another word for love,
Thatās not the word I was sure I was thinking of,
So I thank you for your contribution to the greatest conversation ever everyday.
I swear I didnāt mean to tell you, I swear I didnāt mean to tell you any single, consequential untruths,
and I furthermore prosthelytize I will apologize roughly a million times if that should sound considerably uncouth.
And yes I promise to be forthwith, yes I promise to be forthwith with you
Yes I promise to be forthwith, about the forces, and the causes, and about the course switch between the captain and the crew
But then just like the water molecules in the atmosphere
When would-ja guess who should perservere
Through the frigid air despite a climate of such rank despair, asking me to decide...
When I subside the urge of my dark side into fantasy,
And away from catastrophies that I cannot see,
but go hand-in-hand with sins of pride ā
I'm not sure from whence my words should come,
But their total's greater than the sum,
Of all things that Iāve tried to say,
Whether coerced or to persuade
A new found conscience clear
Of all charges made in baseless fears
With diction cursed with freedom of choice
We victims of that basement voice,
That knows these are not childrenās toys
I was thinking of another word for love,
Thatās not the word I was sure I was dreaming of,
But I thank you for your contribution to the size of my vocabulary.
I was thinking of another word for love,
Thatās not the word I was sure I was dreaming of,
But come to think of it, it occurs to me that the only acceptable answer is your name
Itās your name
Itās your name
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7. |
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All is fair in love and war and
and growing past deceit,
Voted Most Dramatic by Neo-Fascists
the agony of defeat,
Placing memories in different kinds of contexts
Childhood no longer esteemed
Simply...
Take the chance that I'll find some deeper meaning
If I could just pick the right team
For me
Handcuffed, trunk locked, blindfolded down a forest road
Canāt help but grit my teeth,
For all my talent is confetti in a coalmine
In situations like these,
A friendly debate between the headrests in the backseat
Over which mouths are worthy to feed,
Hope that the driver knows that it's a felony
to have all the proof that he needs
Because by the time they know what to do with me
Iāll be digging a shallow grave,
And yes by the time they know what to do with people like me
There'll be nothing to save.
Land of the lugenpresse, slick-haired yes men
Always chosen for the kickball team,
Home of the free to be as big as any asshole
That the comments thread lets you be
About how behind every participation trophy case
Is an AR-15,
Aiming at a bottle of prescription amphetamines
Trying so hard not to make a scene
Because violence as love will always pay dividends
On the lacking honesty we all feel,
at the respect for our intelligence shown by
those who decide what we should think is real--
Of a kind from the bowels of history
From the way we all smile and nod,
At always ending up beholding the mystery
of that pearly white, all-State firing squad.
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8. |
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Iām not the shock and awe campaign
To find which hearts and minds remain
That can be sold a fast food chain,
For the price of bread and novocaine.
Another peasant family cursed,
With their well-being a reverse
Chain of events that lead to this,
Circumstances that I can't predict.
Iād walk all night through smoke and rain
Before Iād let some sad refrain,
Show itās facade to me again,
And turn into my brightest flame,
Just when you think the thing is slain,
It rears its ugly head again,
Didnāt know the source of all that pain,
Couldn't turn into my brightest flame...
Tell me who died and made you pay,
For the way you treat those that you disdain,
Who took your father's name in vain,
As you made haste a sad display,
Of what was once thought so perverse,
No final prayers, no need of nurse,
Did not think it would come to this,
The truth we know it contradicts
Oh no, itās the weight of the world upon my sleeve
Oh no, I didnāt think they would catch the melody
For sure, Backtracking my steps for all to see
Oh no, Nothing according to any foreseeable need
Oh but like a coin at the bottom of a wishing well
Or all the good intentions that can pave the road to hell
Oh but like a heart made out of asterisks,
Or the deviations that can play your mind a trick
Oh no, but like a coin at the bottom of a wishing well,
Or all the good intentions that pave the road to hell...
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9. |
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Wish I was Sam Giancana,
Wish I was Julius Caesar
The world wouldnāt deny me my god given birthright
And the trials of life would become easier
A thousand bottles of your best Boujalais
Sitting in the sun all day
And I donāt mind if I do!
Now listen here Mr. Hand-me-Down
And all those who truly believe
That the world is made for all the golf carts and tennis courts
That one man could possibly need,
They say if you love something then give it away.
But I guess itās just a matter of taste,
And I donāt mind if I do!
And the peaced punk says
Please be honest baby
That the needs of the few
Outweigh the needs of the many
Or the chosen few
Who say so to so many...
"Whatās a tyrant to do,
Whatās a tyrant to doā¦
Whatās a tyrant to do with a chosen few?"
But give another barrel a day
To those with ten thousand dollar plates...
They say if you love something, donāt let it go to waste
And I donāt mind if I do!
And we who die in love with cause over all apprehension,
Die of a disease too terrifying to mention.
And if the members of the press could ask their final questions,
The management at this restaurant...
would like to teach you a lesson.
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10. |
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And yes I promise to remember all your December birthdays,
And oh those very special get off of work days,
To spend with family and friends!
And yes I know it is impossible on don't be a jerk days,
To endure the stresses and unsavory delays,
between the means and the ends.
But just remember ā that you're the Zoey
who says, "Wham! Bam! Thank you, maāam!"
just like David Bowie.
'Cuz you're the peanut,
And nobody messes with the peanut,
And everyoneās guessing that the peanut
Is probably messing wichooo!
'Cuz sheās the peanut,
And no oneās allergic to the peanut.
Thereās no need to worry when the peanut
Butters her way up to youuuuu!
And yes I promise to make sense of all your being-on-Earth days,
Between the frankincense, the gold, and the myrrh days
That plague the end of the year!
Yes I will try my best to be there through the get back to work haze,
The hustle, bustle of the new age rat race
For you have nothing to fear!
'Cuz just remember,
that you're the Zoe who knows that
If you know you don't know something,
then you're truly all knowing.
'Cuz you're the peanut,
And nobody messes with the peanut,
And everyoneās guessing that the peanut
Is probably messing wichooo!
'Cuz sheās the peanut,
And no oneās allergic to the peanut.
Thereās no need to worry when the peanut
Butters her way up to youuuuu!
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"It's really good! It's nuts and I'm not sure what time of day I'm supposed to put it on, but it's far from awful."
- Chris Walla, lead guitar in Death Cab for Cutie 1997-2014, Half of Justice Recording, producer of The Ratboys
"'Confetti in a Coalmine', sounds like Jonathan Coulton binging Van Dyke Parks after taking those pills from Limitless. Perhaps 'They Might Be Giants teaming up with Frank Zappa to write a musical' is a more apt comparison ā as long as you also include references to Ben Folds, Todd Rundgren, Chris Opperman, and maybe a dash of Phish at their most absurd."
- Chris Ingalls, Pop Matters
"A demented carousel of musical genres and stylings thatās perfectly at home in a world of ongoing pandemic and ferocious, brainless scrolling... The unifying themes of irreverence, absolute disdain, and jaunty theatrics combined with DeMelloās musical charm and a slew of special guests make this LP a thoroughly entertaining and thought-provoking listen."
- Glide Magazine
"Itās an interesting time to be living in America, to say the least. DeMello sees the weirdness of our time and wrote ā(A-Typical) Candidate [For Rampage Violence]ā as a response to the strange. In Zappa fashion, sometimes it takes an absurd piece of art to pull back the curtain."
- It's Psychedelic Baby Magazine
"[Matt DeMello] is a unique power pop artist who goes to the roots of the genre before upending them to create something wholly original with the sound."
- John aka Superdestroyer, head of Lonely Ghost Records
For Jennifer & Stephen, nothing but my *finest* hooks. -MMD-N(2B)
In loving memory of Brian Wilson, the Cat, the Handsomest King of Butt Mountain, first of his name. 3/11/08 - 3/6/22
Music and Lyrics by Matthew DeMello, except Tracks 2 and 10, by Matthew DeMello and Jennifer Nordmark.
Special Thanks:
Busi, Roo, Jen, Liz, Amanda, Anti Matter: Anya & Devin & Matt Cain & Ben & Schwartz, Rootstock Republic: Jarvis & Juliette, Becky (for hooking that uppppp!), Yustin, James Osborne, Noex, Jim--TAXXESS, Ilya/Iā¤ļøNoise, Mu & Vu, Laura & Joel, the not-so-tiniest Zo-zo bean, TomTom, Jababy Isla, Margot Louise, Ian, Steve, Tom, Tim (who deserves noted and special credit as a somalier for recommending the wine mentioned in Track 9), Tom, Kevin, Cory, Katy, XBS, Don, Mary Lynn!, Mimi, Smig, Alpha, Teej, Kristos, Thadd, Noex, Incentive, Emily Smith, Pete Murphy, Billy Anderson, Billy Hubbard, Matt Cain (somehow but also that tuba track), J Brodsky, Heidi, Kayleigh, Jane, Russ, Taylor, Disco Sam, Mr. Morgan, Mrs. Williams, Billiam, Jon, Mike, Everyone on the Advent Aspects, Glide Magazine, Rob Duguay, Dream Shore, and Virtual Oasis discords and especially So?ing Machine and Eternal Judge. Louder Than War and Global Texas Chronicle for their eyeballs and attention spans. Z-Tapes, Mo, Brook Pridemore, Brett, DJ Abe, K-Dawg, (yes even you, Chris, and Geoff, and Ros), Diamond, and Ron.
Cover art by Justin Whitkin, cover design and layout by Matthew DeMello.
All songs (c) Francophile Music 2022 and available from Salieri Records
