THE FREAKOUT! - Lyrics

Welp, my band SPELLS played a banging show this past weekend at Hi-Dive in Denver with the The Nervous, Best Creeps, and OBN III's. A blast of a time, the crowd had what I would call a perfect set. And during said show of infinite gnar, we introduced a brand new song to the world - a song called THE FREAKOUT! 

"What's it about?", you ask. Well it's only the hottest new dance crazy sweepin' the nation. All the babes and hunks are doing it. How's it work? What are the steps? What are the rules? FOR FUCK'S SAKE! Aren't you tired of rules? Everyday with the rules. "Don't speed. Don't steal. Take breaks only when you're told. Don't jump off that to your welcome and inevitable death." Let it go! You see, that's the genius part of THE FREAKOUT!: there are no steps. No set moves. You gotta just freak the fuck out…oh, well, I'll let the lyrics I wrote for it explain it all out to you. See below:

THE FREAKOUT!

This craze…

Is so much bigger than all before

Those fads…

Had fancy gimmicks and asshole lore

'Cause all they'd do is regurgitate all the rules that we abhor

So if you're sick of the structure game, try the dance that's so much more… 

The Freak Out!

Freak Out!

Ohhhhhh Freak Out! 

Freak Out! 

Now you're surely asking, what does the Shithead have in store?

Do we Dougie, do we Monkey Time, does it look like the Time Warp?

The only rule of THE FREAKOUT! dance: leave your hang-ups at the door

But you can spin, you can drool and shake, you can pass out on the floor…

Just Freak Out!!

Freak Out!!

F-F-F-F-F-F-Freak Out!

Freak Out!

(Bridge)

Do what you want, don't hesitate

Loosen up, yeah you'll get the hang

Do what you want, don't hesitate

Loosen up, now you got the hang

FREAK OUT!

           She does it the right way!

FREAK OUT!

           He's doing it the right way

FREAK OUT!

           Ella does it the right way!

FREAK OUT!

           I  do it the right way!

FREAK OUT!

FREAK OUT!

The Hive - Lyrics

In a short bit, my band SPELLS will release a new '45 titled 'Sea Side/Land Locked. Pretty fucking psyched about this. I believe this new release will really hit with a lot of folks. I think it represents our first full venture into the newer, more straight forward rock n' roll sound we've showcased as of late. But before this all becomes available, we'll be releasing another ass-shaking digital single.

This newest single titled "The Hive" is a bit of a departure from our more recent releases. Dark and tonally more angry, I wrote this song about what I've witnessed from the entertainment industry during my very short foray into it. It's about what I perceive to be as a need need by big network outlets to simply cater to what the whole is currently chewing on, or has chewed on in the past, rather than taking risks and presenting a variety of efforts and expanded tastes. This to me is what continues to atrophy major media distribution companies. "Be part of many, there's nothing in the few". A hive, just cranking out the same ubiquitous story lines and characters in an effort to capitalize on familiarity. Familiarity: Stagnation's foreplay.

THE HIVE

Pin back your arms

Expose it

Then feed off only what we want

Forget your views

Hell-bent on yield

Be part of only what we choose

(Chorus)

We are Hive

We only produce what we cater to

We are Hive

We only give you what we need from you

We are Hive

Be part of many, nothing in the few

We are Hive

Don't bother us with what you want to do

Pin back your heart

Release your thirst

We'll catapult you through our "art"

You're guilt hued

And baseless

But look at everything you've strewn

(Chorus)

You did it!

Now get our gun!

Lead severanced!

WAFFLE HOUSE

They sit, immersed in amusements of now, shading their eyes against the sunlight leaking through the windows of this poorly lit breakfast box. In the young one's hands rests the undeveloped understanding of mother's participation in the dwarfing of her partially formed future. Because as life loiters on, the less enamored and focused the illusion of our surroundings persist to be, and the more suspect we become of the divots and scratches those who walked before etched into the pathways of our indifference. So I sit against them. I outline their bleakness. I remove them from this situation and place them amongst environs more fitting of the mess they exude. Dirt collected in the corners of their mouths like muddy inlets clogged by the spent shell casings of everything they drawl. Our eyes meet; chewing mouths slow when intellectual edicts are drawn to define this reciprocal curiosity. Brain stems occupy greater limited resources when familiarity fails to make solacing matches. Artless gnawing slows to painful pause. Eyes no longer rely on bumbling chicanery to sell their figment product of chance engagement. Fixed and convinced, the mother's swollen gape opens with the inaugural elucidations on this moment's precedings. Teeth, tongue, and lips arching in familiar synchronicity to propel forth the complicated byproduct of evolution's greatest collator. 

At long last, with parched elbows perched rigid, she jostles free a gust of intellectual ado: 

"What..in the fuck...are you looking at?"

Nothing, pancake buzzard. Nothing at all. 

Lyrics to Outta Control

As the release of my band SPELLS' latest album draws near, I've been posting lyrics to tracks that will be available on that new offering. It's no surprise that I'm a music fanatic, and for me, knowing exactly what is being said, and the motivations behind those words, is a huge part of the listening experience. I don't expect anyone to read. But, just in case anyone is curious, they'll be here.

Outta Control could be my new favorite rock n' roll jingle we've put out there. This summer I purchased my first motorcycle. As a kid I'd ridden dirt bikes, snowmobiles, and four wheelers, but I had never actually experienced a road bike. So I took the riding classes, bought a small bike, and after only a few short months, I can say I'm totally hooked. Honestly, it's become like sex. Not because it provides me with the same level of pleasure and enjoyment, but when I first lost my virginity all I could do was imagine everywhere I could do it, and all the people I could do it with. That's what my daytime musings are usually largely preoccupied with. It's changed the way I view roads and landscapes.

I've also in my writing become obsessed with taking off. Asphalt Navajos shares the same fuck-it-all mentality that I've been germinating in the restlessness of my stomach. I wish I could burn all my belongings in a barrel, take what little money I've acquired, and hit the road. Get dusty and covered in shit and road matter. Just coated in American dander. Eat at diners. Sleep in fields. Never have to worry about why I'm struggling. Why do they reject me? Do I fucking fit in? Just move forward. This is a song about that. About a group of friends with very little, on a journey of nowhere-to-be, on a machine that requires less. "A concrete essay on needing nothing you know."


OUTTA CONTROL

Uh-Oh Uh-Oh
I'm outta control     X4

Well light 'em, let 'em burn hard
And face the hills like a rampart
And take me to a time where I couldn't love
I just rode

I don't know about an anchored future
Where I sit
Picking at my sutures
All I know
A headlight and a bead on the open road
Lighten the load
Outta Control



Uh-Oh Uh-Oh
I'm outta control     X4


I relive my past
Where I burned myself
Cause I chained my heart from a ladder in hell
I can't dwell
Light 'em up, let 'em breathe, let 'em burn hard
And turn the bikes out coastward
A concrete essay on needing nothing you know
Lighten the load
Outta Control



Uh-Oh Uh-Oh
I'm outta control     X8

Beneath the stem of what man says, lies the apple of what man wants.

Within the past few days I've seen a rejuvenated flurry of posts and threads discussing the merit and necessity of gay marriage in our modern culture. Heated and passionate on both sides, science and religion are volleyed back and forth as if they are tear gas canisters in Kiev. I love imagining angry red faces lit by tiny foreign-built laptops, as calloused fingertips furiously pound away hoping that the next click of the "post" button will set forth that definitude-cast wrecking ball to pierce and penetrate the other's staunch chicanery, finally letting in the first warming rays of honesty and obligation to fellow man. Wishful thinking is, and always will be, our most trusted opioid.

The fact is, that while we scream and yell and dream up new witty sarcasms to lay upon the hearths of our opponent's naivete, deep in the recesses of the human collective consciousness, nature is hard at work burning and clearing the planted forests and constructs of our now unnecessary past. We are allowed to have our petty games of what we believe we need, so long as we don't stand in the way of instinct and desire, and it's never-ending pursuit of catering and accommodating what will be.  Those who now, or in the past, have tried to stop it, always end up meeting their demise. Whether it be at the hand of the group or of themselves.

Marriages are failing. That is the truth. And this is not, nor has it ever been, due to what is a minority homosexual population. Given church records and census statistics, the institution of marriage has been failing since its inception, and will most likely continue on that trajectory so long as it remains an institution based upon love and preservation of individual happiness. The anterior is always there to remind us that we are multiples in life, and because of this, as a person's interests and obsessions change as often as the leaves, so goes their affections.

Modern ideology and myopic historical nearsightedness would tell us that marriage has always been between a man and a woman, when in reality marriage throughout the myriad of eras and civilizations has taken on many forms. Scholars and clergy, men and women, have tried their hand at finding that all-encompassing explanation to capture the entirety of its simple complexity.

Because there are several well-documented cultures who adopt marriage formats that had/have nothing to do with child rearing, (some could argue that even our own current generation fits within that definition now that more and more couples are choosing not to invest in progeny), or extending family, or even love for that matter, annotating one definitive calculation will be nearly impossible. If I were to take a stab at it, based on what I've seen and read, I truly believe that any potential relevant definition would have to focus on marriage as largely being a vehicle for the distribution and division of goods and/or property. That seems to be the constant throughout time.

To me, this is why marriage will continue to atrophy. It's not coincidental that as humans made large strides with technological and agricultural advancements, the labor and workforce changed dramatically making men and women less reliant on the lands of ancestors for survival. Free to roam, and free from the bondage of ancestral influence, we all became empowered to choose who we wanted, when we wanted, for whatever reasons we wanted.


Things will change. Elated or miserable as that may make you. Homosexuality, as any historian will point out, has been around for thousands of years (plainly evidenced by its inclusion in a book as old as the bible) and will remain for a thousand more. In fact, in most early cultures, the bond between two men was seen as having far more emotive value than the bond between a man and woman. We all know that with sex comes lust and ultimately love, whatever the fuck that is. And, as I just mentioned above, because choice of who to marry is based largely on emotional and spiritual interest, people of all walks of life will want to participate.


In, 'Marriage, a History Of...", the author points out that modern dogmatic law regarding the prohibition of gay marriage is relatively new (in the span of history) and was brought on when wealthy land owning nobles bribed local bishops to denounce legal unions between members of the same sex in an attempt to halt the already popular practice of elite families marrying together two men, or blood relatives (thus the churches stance on incest, an age old practice as well), so no new illegitimate children were born, or outside families welcomed in, circumventing the socially recognized practice of marrying out offspring and thus inviting foreign clans to dip greedy hands in kindred coffers. Plainly speaking, if you married your sister, cousin, or best friend, well then, no new heirs are created, so no new lineal ties, and thus you get to keep all your land. Now that the practice of dowries and land ownership rights among kin is nearly obsolete in the United States, it will fall by the wayside. Man was never really into it to begin with, as evidenced by closet homosexuality.

(The ultimate irony to me is that what was most likely adopted as a law to prevent the seemingly unfair practice of wealth and resource hoarding, an ultimate oppression to any cohesive group at large, is now a law that is a source of tension without the community en masse. We're fucked no matter which direction we go.)

I've heard a lot of talk about the injustices and wickedness that humans are capable of. But, to me, times like these show the beauty of our design. This duality make us truly unique and amazing. It's as if we were hardwired with a safeguard against our own potentially harmful non cognitive impulses. We have this ability to manufacture vehement and stalwart rhetoric, while simultaneously possessing instinctual desires that rarely ever make long term investments in said rhetoric if it proves cumbersome and needless to the momentum of tomorrow.

Asphalt Navajos

In just a short time my band SPELLS will start releasing tracks from our newest recording session that wrapped this past weekend. Honestly, this could be some of the best stuff I've been a part of to date. And considering that I've been writing, recording, and performing in bands for the last nineteen years, that says a lot. I'm not insinuating that they're going to be successful publicly, I'm just extremely pleased with the execution.

The song that these lyrics pair with could be a big reason why.

Very few people know that nearly every single day I think about giving up. In the pursuit of some seemingly unattainable goal, I've become terrified with the notion that I'm forgetting to look around. But every person struggles with that, right? Well, this song is a tribute to all those light-off and-leave-it-all anthems that address remedying restless soul syndrome. But with a twist. I'm not alone. I'll take the wife and kid along. Yeah, the fam. My pals. Let's get all of our stuff, a shit car, and just bum around till something in our abdomen fails. Because I believe there's more learning to be had by following roads to destinations we've never heard of than by cracking some book, or half sleeping through a lecture.

It won't happen in the foreseeable future, my ego would never permit it. So, until that day, I'll wish and scream.

Oh yeah, I chose the Navajo because they were the first and largest nomadic tribe residing on American soil prior to English settlement. Direct descendants of the Anasazi, their ancestors had discovered the hard way that building foundations, and burying permanent roots, was tantamount to signing your own death sentence. Long live the restless wanderer.





ASPHALT NAVAJOS

Wake up, girl
I've got the money and your clothes
And a beater parked outside
We're ready to rock n' roll

So let's run
Yeah let's paint this planet red
So he's young
But he'll never know the places we stayed in

(Chorus)
We're about to move ahead x4

Yeah a boy he needs his schooling and a home
But lessons come and lessons go
While the writing's on the road

So with love
And with baited heavy breath
We will blow
And push our inert sails to newer hells


(Chorus)

(Bridge)
I've have waited on this
I've been waiting on this road

Yeah a boy his needs his schooling and a home
But lessons come and lessons go while the writing's on the road
Yeah the boy he needs this X4


(Chorus)

SUMMER HAZE

Below are the lyrics to another soon-to-be SPELLS jingle jogger. Currently in production, this song will serve as our vague tribute to The Animals. While writing this song I was pondering back on one of those teenage experiences of romantic missed connection. A time when someone caught my eye but I was far too insecure and inept to voice my interest. The memory I was pondering just so happened to be in mid-July, on the beach. Thank you to my brain for clutching onto it all these years, and to my heart for slamming it into my stomach every-so-unexpected-often as a tardy reminder of endless opportunities squandered.

SUMMER HAZE

Add another heart

To the list of lonely prey

Of the summer sun

And its brutal honest rays

I can't help myself

It's the end to all your means

How the sand it parts 

To stay true to all your frame

(Chorus)

Lyin', chasin'

Sweatin' and wastin'

I can't turn away

Stridin' graceful

Emerald eyes tranquil

Praying for shade

Still haunted after

Images falter

I can't see your face

Through the Summer Haze

The Summer Haze...

Add another plot

To your screed of unmarked graves

For the jilted heart

And its cautious, coward ways

As I flay myself

Endowed with epicene

How the breeze it starts

To bring all your everything

(Chorus)

The Summer Haze x4