Sitting around during the COVID-19 pandemic, I decided now would be a (good?) time to share old recordings of songs I've written and recorded. Many of these were written as long as 25 years ago and recorded almost as long ago. They are (at best) demo quality, but for a 4 to 5 minute share, I thought I'd help to fill people's podcast feeds on a more regular basis.
There is no introduction or closing to each of these songs, just the song itself. I'll include the lyrics below if you can't quite believe what you might have heard me sing.
Many of them are quirky, narrative, and quite frankly from a bizarre place. I share simply because, at a quarter century old, I'm really past what people might think of these. Consider this a pandemic online archiving process. I'll try to put out one a day.
The first track is entitled Tangerine Frankenstein which, if I remember correctly, was inspired by reading one of those regular articles about someone powering a clock with a potato or some such thing. The idea was that if you could power a clock with a potato, why not Frankenstein with a tangerine?
And now you have an idea of where my head used to be at while writing songs.
Tangerine Frankenstein
I am a paradigm. Sense scores by a nose.
Blue sails sucking up the sun.
I am the iconographer reduced to stick figures.
Crass acrobat underneath the gun.
Circus freak columbine pumped by the multi-facet ball.
Ecstasy Clementine spooned by the grease monkey alcohol.
...Holiday do you care I been waiting for his call an’ til he’s
had his toast and jam, make a beeline for Havana singing songs of Old Susanna.
I am semiotic, symbolic signifier, verbal ectoplasmagraphic goo.
I am syntheseismic, tectonic normalizer, cabalistic paranormal stew.
Couture chic valentine, runway-pathic optioneering slim.
Tangerine Frankenstein, autostatic flailing seraphim.
I seek the cosmic rototiller foraging through the underbrush.
Undiscovered tangleweed pulling at my boots
I leak orgasmic motor oil and I’m OHC/FI.
Son uncovered creator’s creed grasping for my roots.
Reykjavik I’m coming home, back to the land of the ice and snow.
Reykjavik I’m coming home.
I’ll be on Friday’s floe.
...Holiday do you care I been waiting for his call an’ til he’s
had his toast and jam, make a beeline for Havana singing songs of Old Susanna.
I am cyberotic. Infested technocratic literal command structure chew.
I’m phantasmagoric, dense rationalizer, exodermal jigsaw puzzle brew.
Couture chic valentine, runway-pathic optioneering slim.
Tangerine Frankenstein, autostatic flailing seraphim.
Citrus. Circuit. Systematic peel.