1. |
Hanging Around
02:21
|
|||
|
Rains keep coming, I keep running outside
It seems fun and I ain't dumb enough to try right
Can't stop calling
Catch me cause I'm falling
Friendly but I'm finding
Everything appalling
Lie into the night
It's alright
Lie into the night
I know it's not right
The questions keep coming, crisis of conscience cross eyed
Cornering the market, covering the spark that won't fly
All the warm bread
And all my best friends
All your wants wasted
On all the loose ends
Lie into the night
It's alright
Lie into the night
I know it's not right
We all get hungry hanging round a right now
The taste ain't bitter but I can do better than the next noun
Find a distraction
Attracted without traction
Distance in the difference
Fuckin' up my fractions
|
||||
2. |
I Just Googled Myself
03:07
|
|||
|
I just Googled myself and discovered there is an amazing number of movies that have been made about me: comedies, romantic comedies, thrillers, dramas, documentaries and I have no clue just how many statuettes I must have helped these people win but the number's gonna be astonishing
I just stumbled upon a top 50 list about myself; it was a remarkable compendium of literature about me: and not even pulp, but actual literature, like classics, literary fiction, novellas, and entire collections of poetry and short stories
I just Wikipediaed myself and learned there are so, so many songs directly or indirectly about me in every genre, across all of the eras, including by not only Bob Dylan himself but even by Bob Dylan's own son
I may not be the most loquacious or well spoken of all the metropolitan statistical areas but speaking on behalf of myself, I'd like to clear the air about some things: like, for example, when you insinuate I am "a character in and of itself," I believe that to a certain extent denies me my proper agency
|
||||
3. |
California Cancer
02:59
|
|||
|
Fully prepared to walk this back
You come armed with sets of facts
Hot takes so unassailably correct
Air melts at points they intersect
I do see what you mean
You rule the world from inside your own meme
Speech bubbles crowd around you
Escape the earth under a word balloon
All of which is to say
I am hearing what you say
Crystal clear and plain as day
So much so I get a big headache
And by "headache" I mean surely a tumor
A malignancy leaving very little room for
Limited reserves of precious mental space
Resist, lest the rest gets displaced
If it were cancer it'd be California cancer
The kind of cancer for which the State of California demands there be an answer
Sheets are white and beets are red
Bypass the punchbowl and shit the bed
Abandon all idiom ye who enter here
Shrink down to nothing and disappear
|
||||
4. |
Dancing To Be Polite
01:59
|
|||
|
You want to see my moves?
You mean my one big move?
Read: like my only move
Dancing to be polite
Dancing to be polite
Rock those extremities
That much is clear to me
But feet were made for fear
Hands are for holding beer
Dancing to be polite
This could be middle school
Panhandle spring break pool
Like 1999
Even your wedding night
Dancing to be polite
I see you staying strong
The length of a Prince song
Some partners grind their watch
Others check their crotch
Dancing to be polite
|
||||
5. |
Terrible Art
02:55
|
|||
|
I made terrible art after 9/11
To never forget all those virgins in heaven
Back then they'd cry if you just followed the letter
I'm not ashamed to say my art never got any better
I made terrible art back in 2004
A one-act play called "The Sorrows of Young Al Gore"
"Here Bush Lies," it was a rock opera score
And something about John Kerry's windsurfing board
I made terrible art about financial crisis
Corporate greed and falling house prices
And then the party was on as if the Miley were Cyrus
If only we saw the creeping onset of ISIS
I made terrible art after the '16 election
About unbreakable ceilings and all that orange aggression
I could care less than to re-learn my lesson
And it's clear as glass upon further reflection: I make terrible art!
We make terrible art
|
||||
6. |
Dare To Dream Big
01:52
|
|||
|
Son, young son, dear boy the time has come
To reveal unavoidable truths like so much unwanted hair
Odds are cold and hard; neutral, amoral and complicit in cosmic fraud
None or never the less: they'll dare you to dream big
Now a word about claw games: no one in the history of the world ever conquered the claw game
Thus, all the dusty shit languishing in the bins
And now, if I may, move on to the lottery and the inherent immorality of state-sponsored gambling
About which, it is simple: You can't lose if you refuse to play
Odds are cold and hard; neutral, amoral and complicit in cosmic fraud
But who are any of us to tell you not to dream big?
|
||||
7. |
What We're Looking For
03:23
|
|||
|
We only look for what we're looking for
Like "life in these times" is just an online store
And the feeling it gives to find that great big "X"
Is enough, no need to dig for what we expect
To find once we plant and let the flag unfurl
That's why he only sung about Jessie's girl
Didn't bother to ignore his friend and get her name
To have and see and want is all the same
We look up and only see the fall of man
Look down to think "Well, he's done the best he can"
And when we strain, we can barely make out what's it for
But we squint 'cause the air's so thick with all this metaphor
Like sad sacks looking guilty fishing payphones for change
Hayseeds hazing hayseeds in this transient age
Some friends are midnight and some are eight
The fact we think we're gods, and god is good, and god is great!
So ask me, What if you were right?
And I'll say, "Darling, let's see wonderful tonight"
See, we end up seeing only what we want to find
And end up missing everything we've left behind
In the wake of good-and-bad and what's in between
Leaving us open to fuck up everything royally
And when we see billboards for buildings in areas
Right enough to convince the right people to marry ya
Remember, let's aim high but punch below our weight
Because Life is Good, and we are great
So ask me, What if you were right?
And I'll say, "Darling, let's see wonderful tonight"
|
||||
8. |
||||
|
You certainly cannot skate
In any sort of animal herd
But you can at least politely skirt
That steady stream of commuters
These lovely, competent folks
Their lanyards dangling work IDs
Pressed into duty
Serving this economy
You certainly cannot skate
On any sort of wheel
What would the Christmas card list think
If we somehow got you killed?
That's not to kill the joy
Stay-at-home or say don't bother
Don't blame the boy
He spent a lot of time with a neurotic father
Everybody loves Mr. Kiddo
He's Mr. Kiddo
He's Mr. Kiddo
Everybody loves Mr. Kiddo
He's Mr. Kiddo
He's Mr. Kiddo
Shopkeepers gush and the world's made glad
To thine own self stay bad
He's ostentatious dad
Everybody loves Mr. Kiddo
He's Mr. Kiddo
He's Mr. Kiddo
Elderly neighbors trust he knows just what to do
To thine bad self stay true
Big bumptious kangaroo
|
||||
9. |
Weird Uncle
03:42
|
|||
|
Hunting the worst bars on the best streets
Where anyone's fair game, clickbait, or fresh meat
All wandering eyes, a lingering stare
Decades from a beer gut, bad taste, and gray hair
Moved out west, to a city so liveable,
Insufferably liberal (made me so miserable)
Ignore the elites, make art for the throngs!
Remember pipe dreams explode like pipe bombs
Then you wake up
One day
If you're lucky
One day
Get a real job and eat lunch at your desk
Some souped-up salad, sometimes overly dressed
Dressed agency casual, mostly in black
Wasting time trading gifs with recent college grads
Years later, overlook partners perfectly fine
Overrate yourself and underestimate time
Unmade double bed, no holiday cards or kids
God, parents never understand and they never did
Stay on this course and Darwin's mandate is dead
Embrace the Punnett square; go on a date, man, get outta your head
You understand you still drink midweek, wear Vans, and play in band?
Believe me: if you were a parent, I promise, then you'd understand
Thank god I woke up one day
Someone's weird uncle
|
||||
10. |
Outta Sight
02:06
|
|||
|
I'm not confused by you
I just don't know what to do
I don't have the right
Don't see, I'm out of sight
I'm not amused by you
Feeling used, lighting my fuse
Now I'm up all night
Up and too tired to fight
Well alright
Won't take me out at night
Won't see me, I'm out of sight
Well alright
Out of sight, out of mind
We might make it if it takes some trying
The truth turns a man into gold
Good riddance, good night you've been sold
Well alright, good night you've been sold
Well alright, good night you've been sold
|
||||
Recalculating New York, New York
Recalculating. Scrappy, feisty, indie(ish). Heart-on-sleeve but not sentimental, self-aware but not self-serious, and almost always grammatically correct. If you're in the tri-state area, hit us up for a show if you like what you hear!
If you like Recalculating, you may also like:
This Could Be Texas
by English Teacher
The UK upstarts' debut veers from sunny, psychedelic folk to bristling post-punk with reckless abandon without ever missing a beat.
go to album
Sweet-and-sour pop hooks cozy up to massive grunge riffs on the Irish indie rockers' impassioned third LP.
go to album
Our Chemistry is a Tightrope
by porcupine
Hopscotching from jangle pop and post-hardcore to math rock and shoegaze, these Minnesota rockers have a gift for musical multitasking.
go to album
Blinded By Oblivion
by Axis: Sova
Axis:Sova mess with the hard rock playbook, creating playful, catchy songs that challenge as much as they rip.
go to album
Searing indie rock that reflects on British life and society post-Brexit, with elements of punk, garage, and more.
go to album
Cardiff band Red Telephone can't disguise the pure pop sensibility in their blistering alt-rock songs.
go to album
Peace Loving People
by Pardoner
The most slept-on band in indie music makes a welcome return with another A+ record mixing hardcore and slacker rock with jokes.
go to album
