1. |
Bones in the Attic
02:18
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Bones in the Attic
Assembled like a chandelier,
bones embodying your past
descend the attic staircase
& pause, perplexed, behind the door.
But you won't let them out for fear
that they'll tear down everything
that you've worked so hard to forge.
"...sure are makin' a lot of noise!"
Oh, when the floods came
you ran & I embraced:
well, I died & was born again
because I was sick of politics
I washed my hands of all of it
& you were just looking for an angle
or something elegant,
but you can't romanticize this.
_________________________________________
Credit
Katie Cooke - violin
Jacob Eli Goldman - bass guitar, effects, maracas, shaker, hand claps, voice
Alex Mazzaferro - voice, piano, electric guitar, trash can, tapes, alarms, effects, tambourine, shaker, maracas, cymbals, cowbell, hand claps
Derek Mazzaferro - shaker, maracas, hand claps
Wil Mulhern - drums, trash can, tambourine, shaker, hand claps
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2. |
Act of Contrition
03:23
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Act of Contrition
Blood on innocent hands...
Assign my penance,
if you want to, if you must.
This is serious.
Distribute reprimands,
you hypocrite, you sinful saint,
you master of sleight of hand,
of twisting words.
Let's just see who earns their scarlet letter first.
Oh, what a wicked web we weave.
You'll pray white lies, while eyes deceive.
Just tell me something I can believe in.
You'll seek revenge, but act polite.
Your poison words course through my veins.
Just tell me that I'm all right.
Dig up dirt to document.
Conspire & gossip; let me in.
You're not playing fair.
Try so hard to look contrite:
confess your sins from every Saturday night
every Sunday; now you're okay!
(Your high-horse theatrics...)
& honestly, I'm so sorry I ever listened
to a single word that ever left your liar lips.
_________________________________________
Credit
Peter Federman - electric guitar, voice
Jacob Eli Goldman - radio, effects
Alex Mazzaferro - voice, electric guitar, bass guitar, piano, organ
Wil Mulhern - drums, tambourine
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3. |
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Drunken Advice for a Mid-Life Crisis
I'm sorry about my condition.
I didn't expect to be seeing you here.
You stuck to tradition:
changing as little as you could,
out of fear of never making it out alive.
& isn't it ironic, how you find yourself here at a bar,
staring down a tall gin & tonic,
& trying to recognize your reflection
or the sinking ship that you once called your life?
Take my advice, no one makes it out alive.
I'll be your white flag, as you lead the procession;
the cavalcade of disappointment, a ticker-tape catastrophe.
You'll drink your frustrations & lead the parade in circles.
You'll escape to tropical isles--what'll we tell your kids & wife?
I'll spare you the I-told-you-so: no one makes it out alive.
Oh, I'm your conscience & I've been drinking.
_________________________________________
Credit
Peter Federman - electric guitar, organ
Jacob Eli Goldman - whistle, sequenced loop
Alex Mazzaferro - voice, electric guitar, bass guitar, piano, sequenced loop
Wil Mulhern - drums
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4. |
Green with Envy
02:58
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Green with Envy
You're green with envy.
& though I swore you, once, the enemy,
I'll let it slide, just this one time.
This is the requiem for your ego;
the eulogy for your vanity.
Climb atop the pulpit & shout "hallelujah!"
Before I'm through with you, you'll wish you never met me.
But with that photographic memory,
you can't forget my face.
Your world is ending.
The sun explodes.
We would all be better off
if you would let this go.
In the past, I've thought it best
to let liars & thieves get their rest.
Nevermore, however, will I let sleepers lie.
& about your inability to swallow pride
& all that screaming all the time,
cross my heart & hope to die, I'll make you unhappy.
Let go. It's over.
I'll sully your reputation
while you sully the knees you should be repenting on.
_________________________________________
Credit
Peter Federman - electric guitar, tambourine
Jacob Eli Goldman - bass guitar
Alex Mazzaferro - voice, electric guitar, piano, organ
Wil Mulhern - drums, tambourine
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5. |
Sharp Teeth
03:37
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Sharp Teeth
I've got a sore throat
from screaming all these years.
Concessions & convictions;
I just pray that someone listened.
You've cuts & bruises of your own
from valiantly defending me from me;
from valiantly defending me from my sharp teeth.
Blood-stained nicotine success!
& I feel ugly all the time.
The art I spit up's dissonant.
My words are vague & undefined.
I'm spare parts.
Worries, feeble details...I'm awake.
Callous institutions;
I'm starting New Years Revolutions.
Next time, I'll finish everything
(a starting point / an ending point).
Symmetry, deliver me from my sharp teeth.
Well, I can't sit back & just give up,
even when I'm too tired to tread,
& the bluest waves do fill my lungs,
& my hat floats overhead.
I'll learn to speak & like the sound.
I'll grasp the concept of resolve,
embrace my forms, however rough,
& make a point between each sun.
Darling, you taught me to whisper & mean it.
_________________________________________
Credit
Peter Federman - electric guitar, effects
Alex Mazzaferro - voice, electric organ, bass guitar, tapes
Wil Mulhern - drums, effects
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6. |
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Being Good; (or, Life with Serpents)
You've been living with serpents.
We all make mistakes.
You're perfecting a poison
with parts of speech & punctuation--no...
But you've been telling everybody different;
you've been cursing my name because I caught you red-handed.
& you're finding solace in the bottles that you drink.
you've conjectured that the ghosts who've come to haunt us are for me.
& your intentions cruel & kind, alike,
are the salt in my wounds; are the insults to injury.
You'll sit home sharpening daggers to tear me apart with.
Please tell me something that I don't already know.
(We're at each other's throats...)
I x-ed out every photograph.
I meditate. You medicate.
I heard of a doctor from Atlanta
who cut the heart out of a man's chest,
& poked & prodded & cut it all up,
& didn't learn a thing.
You'll never learn a thing about me.
Don't waste your time dissecting mine,
I've got to get away. {After all,} no one's perfect.
_________________________________________
Credit
Katie Cooke - violin
Peter Federman - electric guitar, effects
Jacob Eli Goldman - tapes, maracas, effects, voice
Alex Mazzaferro - voice, electric guitar, bass guitar, piano, organ, sleigh bells, trash can
Wil Mulhern - drums, tambourine
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7. |
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What It Is I'm Made Of...
Ampersands & exclamation points surround.
I'm lying, helpless, on the ground;
I'm finding out exactly what it is I'm made of:
a face of wood, those clumsy strings
& meager bones: a crooked frame.
I've certainly done things that I'm not proud of
& I'm just scared they'll find me out.
Michelle is searching for a notebook on a shelf.
She's crying softly to herself;
it's part & parcel to her stable mental health.
& every dotted 'i' reflects her libel eyes.
Her point of view distorts. Her present image lies.
& she's so scared they'll find her out.
Perhaps I'm not as brave as I thought.
I've crawled on belly with the worst myself.
We'll tie loose-ends to form a knot,
then point out plot holes 'till we've had our fill
'cause we're scared to death they'll find us out.
We've hit the bottom of the barrel.
This is the best that we can do.
We're old-fashioned & second rate.
We're out-of-date. We're saint-esques, misconstrued,
& we'll stay like this forever,
'till some siren song leads all of us
to some marvelous death on the rocks.
_________________________________________
Credit
Peter Federman - programming, harmonica, trash can
Trevor Johnson - voice
Alex Mazzaferro - voice, programming, acoustic guitar, organ, electric guitar, radio
Wil Mulhern - drums
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8. |
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Other Auxiliaries (l'Hymne de Faiblesse)
I notice that your voice gets progressively week
from weak to weak ("...weak from week to week").
& it's been a while since you came home, smiling,
with paint strewn on your sleeves.
You say, "All my opportunities
like open windows close,
fog up, dirty, break,
& lie vulnerable."
Oh, conflict breaks down to freezing hands
& the noisy hiss of words & wires.
Misinterpret every silence.
Second guess every alliance.
(Everything's fine) but you're barely hanging on,
leery of independence,
ever mindful of the West coast,
& always begging, "What went wrong?"
when nothing's wrong.
Well, I remember not-so-long-ago,
the party guests were in stitches.
You were playing hostess in the parlor
& tea was on the stove.
(Now, all of that's rusted & tarnished!)
I know you've been vomiting up those bad dreams.
Throw out your crutches.
After a while you'll forget if you
are running from dying or dying from running.
Oh, you're only as good as your last word
& if yours is excuse or apology, well, I swear that I'll just scream.
_________________________________________
Credit
Peter Federman - organ, tambourine
Alex Mazzaferro - voice, electric guitar, bass guitar, piano, laptop, effects
Wil Mulhern - drums, tambourine, chimes
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9. |
Tied-Down Giants
02:21
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Tied-Down Giants
A row of sparrows stitched up cotton clouds:
in & out & up & down.
I've read some books. I've counseled golden crowns.
Like tied-down giants, weighted, pinned to the ground.
& I don't want to know.
"Freedom's found at certain genesis.
Find roots or else breath deep & weather things."
_________________________________________
Credit
Katie Cooke - violin
Jacob Eli Goldman - drums, bass guitar, effects, glockenspiel, music box
Alex Mazzaferro - voice, electric guitar, organ
Wil Mulhern - tambourine
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10. |
Remedy
03:20
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Remedy
I'm sick, sick & tired
of these bedside manners.
My patients (patience) are (is) wearing thin.
& I don't know if I'll get well again.
Hell, I've gotten so used to it.
Oh, I'm twisted up.
I'm tangled up in (k)nots.
My senses just a little dulled.
What was that you said? Could you tie my tourniquet?
I think I'm hallucinating--
Is this a symptom or a side-effect?
& where's that nurse, no one's tied my tourniquet.
This holy war will proceed to cut the country right in half.
"It's time to amputate." What's the sense in that?
Isn't there anything you can give me for the pain?
An anesthetic or a treaty would both do fine to cure my plague.
_________________________________________
Credit
Peter Federman - marimba
Jacob Eli Goldman - effects, tapes, toy piano
Alex Mazzaferro - voice, acoustic guitar, bass guitar, mandolin
Wil Mulhern - drums, shaker
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11. |
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Monsters, Created Pts. I & II
[Pt. I:] You've soiled the fabric of your party dress.
It's torn at the hem & your slip is showing.
I'm all alone--I've been swallowed whole.
The faded threads are frayed & worn-
your insides expose...you're vulnerable,
but ever-the-lady, you're calm & reposed.
& I'm all alone--I've been swallowed whole.
[Pt. II:] Well, I'll sing a sorrowful lament: a souvenir.
"Oh, look at the monster I've created!"
I'm piecing myself together.
_________________________________________
Credit
Katie Cooke - violin
Peter Federman - electric guitar
Jacob Eli Goldman - bass guitar, radio, whispers, effects
Noah Goldman - effects, electric guitar
Trevor Johnson - voice
Alex Mazzaferro - voice, electric guitar, bass guitar, accordion, piano, organ, tambourine, laptop
Wil Mulhern - drums
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12. |
Dig to the Orient
05:49
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Dig to the Orient
Standing on an unstable house of cards,
you ask me now, "Just what are we doing here?
We got so caught up;
now everyday, my skin fits me less."
& we're playing outside.
We're infantile; believing & trusting,
we're simple: ambitious.
We decide we'll dig to the orient.
The notion begs no question.
Pages turn in reverse:
the years subtract
like a fire burning backwards,
creating fertile soil.
The seed, the scene,
the signs of innocence.
The misconceptions,
the thoughtful questions,
like, "When the fuck did we grow up?"
I must have missed it.
Bury me in that hole I never finished
with everything I ever though existed.
Pull the wool over my eyes.
I can't recall exactly when I lost interest.
We've got our work cut out trying to fix this.
Still, we'll try to remain optimistic,
if we've failed at least we've tried.
[You caution, "Let's not be naive."]
We're taking this back,
& I think we're the same as we've ever been.
But we're dropping like flies
& it's just so goddamn hard to persevere
when gravity's claiming the house of cards.
_________________________________________
Credit
Peter Federman - electric guitar, electric organ, hand claps, voice
Jacob Eli Goldman - hand claps, reading
Alex Mazzaferro - voice, electric guitar, bass guitar, piano, floor tom, hand claps, air organ, vibraphone
Wil Mulhern - drums, tambourine, fuzz organ, floor tom, hand claps
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aeroplane, 1929 Springfield, Massachusetts
aeroplane, 1929 was a band from New England. Between 2005 & 2010, they released two albums & two EP's on Topshelf Records. The band consisted of Alex Mazzaferro (vocals/guitar/keys/lyrics), Jacob Goldman (bass/keys/recording/arrangements), Noah Goldman (guitar/pedal steel/keys), & Wil Mulhern (drums), plus friends like Julian Veronesi, Chad Jewett, Dave Van Witt, Alex Syner, & Peter Federman. ... more
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