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about

This album was written this past year while residing in West Chester, PA, Plattsburgh, NY and on all of the roads in between. It was recorded by yours truly in the Late Summer/Fall of 2011 in my old bedroom at my Parents' house in Plattsburgh, NY. Originally, my friend Matt Hall and his trusty cat Hobbs were supposed to record it, but their mixing board exploded back in July and it was left to me.

Thanks to Matt Hall for lending me the awesome microphones and to Sarah Jennette for the guitar. This album literally would not exist if it weren't for the both of you.

The following people contributed their talent to the record and made it a million times better.

Alison Lutz - Piano/Additional Vocals

Shannon Stott - Violin

Christopher Rigsbee - Additional Vocals

Special Thanks to Pat Graham, Patrick Ware, Mark Dickinson, Madeline Eagly, Sean Morris, Ed McNulty, Queenie, Coach and Mable for letting me live on your couch, watch depressing documentaries and play NFL Blitz 2000 for a month and a half.

Extra Special thanks to all of my friends and family in NY, Pennsylvania, New England and everywhere else who continue to hold me up and give me a reason to keep breathing. You know who you are.

credits

released 01 December 2011
Violin by Shannon Stott

Piano and Additional Vocals by Alison Lutz

Additional vocals by Christopher Rigsbee

Everything Else by Justin Passino

tags

tags: acoustic bedroom pop emo folk indie anti-folk bummer jams diy folk for the kid in the back indie plattsburgh upstate ny Plattsburgh

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Track Name: Another Bullshit Song About Leaving and Failing
The ice beneath my feet
is slick with fall's defeat.
Leaves that coated trees
feed for a late Spring.
Outside the Monopole,
where my parents used to go.
Following footsteps
that circle round the nest.

I'm drinking everything
to forget everything.
And there are warnings.
A storm is coming.
Straight up the east coast,
that's where it always goes.
Where it gets so cold
it hurts to leave our homes.

And there are warnings, the kind that we can't see.
Too busy drinking in a state of emergency.
And I used to believe that all of this loss was leading up to something besides another bullshit song about leaving and failing.
Track Name: "Dude, You Guys are Homeless!"
I used to romanticize sleeping on couches and not paying rent.
But there's nothing cool about letting down your friends and relying on your parents.

I just want to feel in love again, like I did, like I used to way back when.
A promise of my very own warm bed and a house full of my best friends.
Track Name: Summer Romance
They call it Summer Romance for a reason.
These feelings, they will die and fade by the end of the season.
You'll no longer try to hold my hand.
You'll finally see me for who I really am.
I'm just an animal who learned to speak in notes and prose and hand-me-down melodies.

Just a boy who tries his best to sing clearly and honestly.
Just a boy who falls in love too quickly with almost every woman he meets.
Just a boy who wants to know your name so he can write it down for himself and throw it away.
A frame of reference for the way your hair used to hang over your face.

They call it Summer Romance for a reason.
But bleeding hearts still bleed and seep into next season.
Like a pad of paper and a felt-tip pen, turn the page and there you are again.
Just a frame of reference for how all of this began and why it must end.

Just a boy who tries his best to sing clearly and honestly.
Just a boy who falls in love too quickly with almost every woman he meets.
Just a boy who wants to know your name so he can write it down for himself and throw it away.
A methodical routine to forever be afraid of first kisses, near misses and knees that accidentally touch.

Tell me, why can't we just act like we're adults?
Track Name: September Snow
Driving to work at 5am.
I'm always late. Everyday.
It's so cold outside that the smoke
from the hospital looks like clumps of cotton
in the pre-dawn light.

I hate this city.
All of the buildings look the same to me.
All of these late nights feel the same to me.
And it's become abundantly clear
that there is nothing left for me here...

But a dead-end job.
A couple distant friends.
A freezing house.
Alcoholic weekends.
I'm just scraping by,
by the skin of my teeth.
This corrosive way of life
is giving me cavities.

I've got to get out before the snow falls.
I've got to get out before it all freezes.
I've got to get out to kill the demons.
I've got to get out to stop the bleeding.

Cause' I would rather die on this empty road
than stay here with you and still feel alone.
I'd rather remember you as you were
than stay here with you and what you've become.
Track Name: Super Awkward
Maybe I should have told you how I felt.
I know that now, but I didn't then and I doubt
I'll ever get the chance again.
Sometimes I still feel so inadequate.
Uncomfortable in my own skin.

Acting super awkward like it's my religion,
but Brown Eyes, what we have is golden.
If you want to hang out, my door is wide open.
I'm down for whatever.

So call me whenever.
I'll be leaving in December
so I can't wait forever,
though I will try.
Track Name: Sometimes Friends Fight
All my friends act like they hate each other
and I'm just waiting on a letter to let me know I'm next.
To be young and brash with confidence just puts you on a list.
It keeps me in bed.

It won't be this cold that kills us in the end.
Just passive-aggressive, unsung statements.
Like "We have never done anything for anyone that was not also for ourselves"

One more drive, then I'm done.
One more drive, then it's done.
Track Name: Letter of Intent
I've driven by the New York skyline so many times I can see it when I close my eyes.
And all I want to do is spend my time with you.
And all I want to say just gets lost along the way.
Like loose change or the cap to the toothpaste.
Or your best friends when they move away.
Or my nerve when we're all alone
or on the phone.

The drive up I87 is enough to make me go insane.
It's like I'm never close enough to home or far enough away.

Define too good to be true with classified ads and a photo of you.

This is my letter of intent to always be your friend.
Another "sorry" in the form of a song for leaving you hanging on.
I'm glad that you found someone who can give you what you want
cause' I'm done. I can't be the one, so I'm moving on.
Track Name: Casa Del Karin
Do you know I scratch my head when I'm trying not to cry?
When you held me in the kitchen that night, I felt like I could die.
Seven hour drives.
Windows up tight.
No one said a word until we crossed the Jersey line.

It's in the early morning that I miss you the most.
I've made some amazing friends, but I'm tired of living like a ghost.
I'm coming home
with scars to show.
I know I said that I would follow this through, but I've got nowhere else to go.

Do you know I scratch my head when I'm trying not to cry?
When you held me in the kitchen that night, I felt like I could die.
Seven hour drives.
Windows up tight.
The extent to which I love you keeps me up late at night.

I hope you know.
Track Name: New Air
Measure my love in city blocks and subways.
Carry it safe over mountains, valleys and lakes.
The past few months have felt like the Sunday
before the first day of 7th grade.
And I'm so fucking scared of the first day I wake up
and forget you're not there to come hang out and hold me up.

I'll never be able to repay you for everything you've done for me.
My friends, you breathed new air into my lungs when I was sure that I was drowning.

I want to get drunk with Nate and Abram by a fire at Travis and Jen's.
Go have dinner in Vermont with Sarah, Erin and Kim.
Hang with Bryce and Jay and Liz and all the kids at 56.
Start a Billy Joel tribute band with Matt and Sean and Chris.

You are all examples of the reasons I still sing.
My friends, you breathed new air into my lungs when I was sure that I was drowning.
Track Name: How Am I Not Myself?
I'm not too fun to be around these days
so I think that I'll just stay at home
alone with my anger and my hate
and this bitter taste in my mouth from
all of the nights I spent in this house
by myself on this couch wishing there
was some way I could wake up as someone else.

Because nothing I try ever turns out right.
And my friends wonder where the hell I've been
and why I can't have a good time.

I'm fucking lonely. I'm thirsty for those days
when everyone and everything I love and trust
had yet to fade away.
But now they're fucking gone and I'm happy she found someone
but this loss feels like a noose around my neck and these failed
attempts feel like glass in my chest.

Because I'm wasting time learning how to fly
when, in reality, I can barely walk a straight line.
Because nothing I try ever turns out right.
And my friends wonder where the hell I've been and why
I seem to have given up on life.

I hope you know that I measure our greatest nights with the bags under my eyes.
But these days I sleep too much and I'm getting better at losing touch.
And somewhere there is a piece of paper that my parents paid to frame.
It's a reminder that I should have tried harder.
There's no one else to blame.

This Summer, I'm staying home.
Don't call, because I won't pick up the phone.
And one day, I'll just pack and go
and no one will really have to know.