1. |
Winter Flowers
04:32
|
|||
|
“Holy Ghost I Love The Most,”
and other hymns are ringing
through the glass,
stained to compliment the mass.
It’s a slow address worth skipping.
Here with you,
my fingertips betwixt your spine
like smoke amidst a city skyline,
and perched atop
the birch tree on the corner lot,
we’re half-ignoring this 12-foot drop.
I’ll go where you go.
“Come seek or hide, somewhere outside.”
Frozen toes –
My Sunday shoes weren’t built for this cold.
Their tongues are white from all the salted roads.
Halfway down
I hear my mother calling me out
“The lights are on,” but you turn in to town, so I get
pulled into
deeds I thought I’d never do.
My ears are wet from chasing after you.
Do police charge
For snowballs thrown at passing cars
and then tearing back through the neighbours’ yards.
I’ll go where you go.
“Come seek or hide, somewhere outside.”
Straight-laced and genuine –
I try to be, but everytime
that you smile I want to break the law.
Coquettish threats – you try to
work me up so every time
that I speak I wish I’d break my jaw.
“Come seek or hide, somewhere outside.”
|
||||
2. |
Dead Plants
04:15
|
|||
|
Last night, from Riviere-de-Loup I come home
to dead plants and pottery smashed on the floor.
You say, with cul-de-sac eyes
and lying half-unstrung-out on the kitchen tile
like a chemistry set
crippled by the caress of an improvident child,
“Come on and strike me down.
Hate me. I’m ready for it.”
Passed out, I can feel all the weight you’ve dropped off
as I sack-race-shuffle you on down the hall
and kill a county-road cry
with a half-unrung-out terry kitchen towel.
Am I a charity case
for giving up on the ghost of an impossible love?
“Come on a strike me down.
Hate me. I’m ready for it.”
“…can I take that back?”
|
||||
3. |
Celebrate
05:41
|
|||
|
Celebrate, for what?
Everybody’s here, everybody’s fucked up
Graduate, what now?
The spoils go to those, leaving town
Celebrate, for what?
What a waste, of my time
Ripping movie tickets off, painting on a smile
When morning comes, I close the blinds
Toasting to the void, drinking every night
Procrastinate, til I shake
Until all the pricks are home on Christmas break
I could change, I could try
Or down a fifth of Crown, rip a couple lines
Celebrate, for what?
Driving past the festive lights
And people living perfect lies, for what?
|
||||
Long Range Hustle Toronto, Ontario
If you’re new to a Long Range Hustle show, it only takes a minute to feel how their contagious energy connects with everyone in the room. From a sweat soaked club to a breezy festival stage, Long Range Hustle brings the warm infectious melodies, driving rhythms, and gorgeous harmonies, in spades. ... more
If you like Long Range Hustle, you may also like:
featured on Bandcamp Radio Nov 1, 2016
go to album
This NYC quartet channels the anxious, experimental nature of late '90s-early '00s Olympia indie rock in their tense, rhythmic post-punk.
go to album
The experimental UK artist's latest album is decidedly genre-agnostic.
go to album
The Architect of the Ruin
by Toad the Wet Sprocket
Long-running 4-piece, who were early Bandcamp adopters, return to their ’90s melodic, alt-rock form.
go to album
The Power Of The Heart: A Tribute To Lou Reed
by Various Artists
Keith Richards, Rosanne Cash, Lucinda Williams, Joan Jett, and more pay tribute to the enduring and visionary music of Lou Reed.
go to album
Juxtaposing poetic balladry with roaring feedback and warped piano lines, the Vermonter's music is as stunning as it is unsettling.
go to album
It Did Bring Me Down
by Talking Kind
The long-time DIY artist merges pop-imbued songwriting and indie rock melodies on this debut.
go to album
