1. |
Rebel Without Applause
01:30
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To many nights of the sound of one hand clapping just for you embrace each new wave and count the days until the big corporate rescue here's where we'd part company if any company'd once been made unmaligned but so defined from your shoes up to your shades ten thousand gears of industry but no spanners caught between had it not occurred to you in garage spaces art basements or any friendly station where rebels pause without applause for a breath of jagged air between the verse and middle-eight where nothing might go wrong you saw me at twenty and you'll find me ten years on examine what your scene could mean could we build our own regime had it not occurred to you?
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2. |
Hey Pinkerton
02:14
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Hey Pinkerton you're not at home you can't pull his plug or turn him down 'cause these limbs bite back he ain't the television I thought you'd have he vision to see that but we've seen your work big guy and it's less than meets the eye no he ain't the reason why no-one's been buying maybe all your patrons see that you're as fake as Fox TV you ain't outside of any norm, construct, or system hey Pinkerton turn off your glower-power and come back in a quarter-hour when he's done 'cause his Hokey Pokey oh it's a fuck-you song and all the dancing boys and dancing girls who are standing by while you're giving him the stink-eye will tell you he's won.
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3. |
(She's My) Cheerwine
02:58
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When I was just knee-high I could tell I'd need more than a slice a jolt to keep me well now you could say hey J you've got it all no big red bull
kicking in it's stall it feels just like I'm wearing a royal crown this mug can't help but bubble up and down she joneses for my moxie and she's all mine she's my cheerwine from seven on up I'd hand my tumbler full warm crush over ice for me had no real pull old Vernor said a sprite would delight but my stomach hurt a late one was good clean fun but my heart still burnt.
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4. |
Comrade K
02:13
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Let's raise the dead for an evening comrade exhume us a new world of good our old friends have all been frightened into doing what they think they should those left by good grace have made an art of escape escape artist Houdini fake oh their best inside jokes are just mirrors and smoke no stance in their dance no romance no no chance to take ain't a clown in this town that is hopeful comrade the kids are their own marketplace give me anyone who can make their own fun by groping toward a brighter place I watch from the bar-dust of old Pleasant Street the weekenders out all dressed up costumed as anyone but themselves are they scared of what's there is what there just not enough let's raise a seance for the youth-ghost comrade a handshake from beyond the grave with no ass to kiss I've a short thank-you list imagine all the time I can save have we grown uptight on our scene's cellulite no patience no time for heroes even gas money kindness even duct tape and fliers even rightness can be says we a selling point too even rightness says we can be hipster-cred too even rightness says we can be a commodity too.
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5. |
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The dry daytime drama king
Dramamine mean dreaming
Drinks up a storm in the day
Late light leading slight
Feeds a hungry freedom-streak
Sartre/Exene nausea
Dub-Vee trait sleeps
Unwieldy in a trailer camp
Wheeling steel beam personae
Panhandle boy digs from digital to analog
His monologue a True Sound Of Liberty
Ain't you glad ain't you glad
That the blood done sign my name
Ain't you glad ain't you glad
That the blood done sign my name
Ain't you glad ain't you glad
That the blood done sign my name
That the blood done sign my name
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6. |
Weak Enuff
01:28
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And it was sharp enough to notice
Thought we were wise enough to work it out
This ain't no psychology
This is everywhere
This is my mythology
First I was weak enough to wither
Then I grew strong enough to run right out
This ain't no psychology
This is everywhere
This is my mythology
And all I've known...
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7. |
Last Year's Party
02:06
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Last year's party
Last year's party
We've found a hotter party to go to
Oh look out across Sixth Street and Lime
The jeeps and tanks are rolling after you
Better swap that Sony Cyber Shot
For an alley biscuit, a throwing stone or two
Last year's party
Last year's party
Won't you tell me who's ironic now
Oh mindless child of Late Capitalism
Son of Postmodernity
Better dry your hand of Coors Light condensation
Grab a Molotov or three
(And get one for me)
Last year's party
Last year's party
Won't you tell me who's ironic now
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8. |
No Kind of Fun
01:56
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It's been a vacant year
Ain't shit to do but drink a draught
Of this Caintucky Mason Jar
In this stood-up club with a luckless laugh-track
Built right in
We don't have to think too hard
Every joke we hear's familiar
Hot off the ha-ha line
Only so much they can justify with irony
Fast out of fashion
Don't this dead time weigh a ton
Takes no mind
Ain't no kind
Of fun
Twisting around the dial
Head's a-blissed with this tinnitus
Humming a static line
Ain't no match for my spastic tonearm
Gimme Death Sweats and not Decemberists
Gimme Death Sweats and not Decemberists
Gimme Death Sweats and not Decemberists
Gimme Bad Brains and keep your Bright Eyes
Fast out of fashion
Don't this dead time weigh a ton
Takes no mind
Ain't no kind
Of fun.
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9. |
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10. |
Keep Morgantown Weird
01:27
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Who would have known that the power of 'no' would not be about negation? Shun what you've been shown, no mayor could own up to our city's condition. Keep Morgantown weird while I'm not here, my friend. I don't doubt I'll see it again. Who would have guessed, that the power of 'yes' could be our most valuable export? A new port of call -- I'll give it my all. No tears in the Cheat Lake tradewinds. Keep Morgantown yours -- my tour of duty's done. It's never been down to one. We'll hang all the players and burn the stage, tear up the script and rewrite the page; these agents of change will never age. We'll bomb the Hit Factory and Brill Building, disband the bandstand as we sing; we don't owe their Industry a thing. And they'll see what we can bring. Who would have sussed that the power of us would be so self-generating? No businessman's brand, nor his manicured hand, could dampen our proud parade. Yeah, keep Morgantown ours -- may no bars hold you in. This wheel will long be in spin.
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11. |
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The hands on the clock
inside the smudged and glassed up
window tick it's time she went to
bed yes the one she made herself
with help from her chaperones
shitfaced and faceless
But we don't mind our pity
party doll will give us all
a fresh anecdote to tell tomorrow
When is a friend not a friend at all?
The dirt upon which you fall
tells its own story
Tomorrow holds shame
so don't lay claim to feelings
unfit, unfelt in your late mornings
But we don't mind our pity
party doll will give us all
a fresh anecdote to tell tomorrow
She wore a different face
to every occasion
down at the negative end
of every equation
Oh such a sad situation
let's raise a glass to frustration
But we don't mind our pity
party doll will give us all
a fresh anecdote to tell tomorrow
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12. |
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Rescue the scene?
On second thought, au revoir
This poison's free
Poor child your ethics are
Like a drug
A fashionable opiate
Pull the plug
Do not resuscitate
No CPR
You've fucked the cause
Now go on and fix the fight
Expect applause
Rep like a dented bike
Like a drug
It makes you feel greater than
Pull the plug
I've seen more than I can stand
There's no more love
Catch you later I'm not waiting
No party to, no party to
Culture of lowered expectations
A lesson learned, a venue burned
A crowd so tired:
"Alright... let's get bored..."
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13. |
Pomade Years
02:09
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Your hype
is larger than life
delusional tripe
forcefed by the forces
That bring
your weakness to light
so afraid that you might
meet the you that we once knew
Before the collapse was pure and total
somewhere between the first chord and the last call
and I'll sit back and watch you choke on your smoke
an unfunny joke -- flat broke since the pomade years
No doubt, it's getting played out
so steeped in your clout
you forget who your friends are
and you rest on the laurels that you don't have
and dismiss all the bliss that we once shared
You take the path of least resistance
and wonder why I keep my distance
when your whole life's a mess of mirrors and smoke
you're such a fucking joke -- flat broke since the pomade years
Teeth grow long
Yours is a dodgy song
Don't step behind
And pay no mind
To what the world expects from you this time
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14. |
Magenta Marquis
02:39
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Marc un-murky, lurks on the ether
Neither St. Peter nor G. Marconi
Shone black badges, bright on white waistcoat
From West Virginia to East Anglia
Far from unmanned Our Man, he rides again, Our Fan derides again
Five hour wingspan our man decides again, decries again: a big 'no!'
Feelers splayed, no aid from traps or trappings
Old English minor chords Mancunian
Beaten drums he's bent ass-sideways
Metal-sways sweat-drenched, lonesome, and lupine
(repeat chorus)
It's in Marc's blood to play it real
Knows he'll not lose that itching heel
He prays his friends keep their scene weird
Yeah, somewhere North and east of…
…try again… let fly again
We'll roam where we want
That dog, she don't hunt
But she won't play dead
(repeat twice)
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J. Marinelli Morgantown, West Virginia
J. Marinelli is a one man band like no other. The sound and fury that emotes from his haunting Appalachian echoed yowl falls
somewhere between Guided By Voices, a lost mountain troubadour and a classic 70’s punk outfit from your dreams.
- Subversive
... more
J. Marinelli recommends:
Lille Lort på ferie
by Lille Lort
Real talk: this is the only concept album that's ever mattered. If avant-garde/shit-fi bossanova is a thing, then Mr. T plays it.
go to album
Brain Time Now
by Blast and the Detergents
A hot mess of fearless noise-rock a-la MISSION OF BURMA and SONIC YOUTH. Florida's best import since ever.
go to album
Lo-fi pop perfection from straight outta Grøa, Norway!
go to albumIf you like J. Marinelli, you may also like:
Stop Paying Attention
by J. Marinelli
supported by 5 fans who also own “Pre-Emptive Skankery Sessions”
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Five years after their supposed breakup, the beloved trio of Cassie Ramone, Katy Goodman, and Ali Koehler make a triumphant return.
go to album
Project Isle Demotion
by THURST
Los Angeles duo Thurst return with an album of moody, minimal post-punk and appropriately angsty lyrics.
go to album
