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Songs for the Forgotten Future Vol. 1

by Piñataland

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1.
Goodbye to the Gramercy Ball It’s gone now and no one survived All of the best things that money can pay Have passed on their problems to those who have stayed All the mistakes that we paid for on credit And prayed for have finally been made So buy your time from someone you trust And I’ll buy mine from a cold blooded schemer Who lies as he cheats me and claims that it’s just All of the pockets where money collides Are emptying out right in front of your eyes The future’s eternally bankrupt but history provides So I’ll meet you at Tammany Hall ‘Cause the ghosts there know how to get by They say this is as good as it gets They say never pay all of your debts They’re the only things that keep the world alive
2.
I’m leaving tonight and you’re coming with me Electric arc lamp lighter than air I’m feeling fine on this devil’s airship We’ll buzz this town See what makes them tick And we’ll get to San Francisco by tomorrow noon We’re gonna get there soon San Francisco by tomorrow noon We’re gonna get there soon We’ll steal some cows So drop that anchor Into the night with a diamond hard glow All these cities spread out before us All those dreams so far below San Francisco by tomorrow noon We’re gonna get there soon I saw the sky crack wide open We’re heading for the ocean I’ll take you to a place where there’s no rain I hope it’s not too late Too late
3.
Sleepwalker 04:30
I’ve been traveling in my sleep I closed by eyes back in the crowded east I slept for six years as I crossed this land And woke up with a ticket in my hand I must have walked the Mason-Dixon Eyes closed and arms outstretched As Sherman marched east on Savannah I marched west I must have crossed a thousand miles of fields Through every town spit out by “hell on wheels” My march stops for nothing Buffalo or Cheyenne I must have felt the killing that burned across the plains But all the while I walked on dreaming of a future grace Sleptwalked through lightening storms and quiet glens Sleptwalked through tunnels dynamited by Chinamen Snowed in at Donner Pass for four months I felt so comfortable – the things I dreamed of Followed receding snows when spring came Down to the ocean where the tracks were leading A golden spike drove down I woke up crying To see a city built by blood and iron My ticket for a train bound for the Hudson And from the sleeper car I watched the land I walked on speed beneath my feet
4.
Velocity 05:00
Here in the cockpit there’s nothing but dreams and dismay Sometimes it seems like this expensive tin can Does nothing ‘cept sit here and wait Now I’m hearing the countdown but at seven my thoughts drift away As the countdown gets lower I move towards the ground And as we lift off I finally touch down Glad I’m not leaving and proud of my narrow escape But I’m pullin’ away And they’ll be with the one that’s not right for them And leave me in misery floating in gravity And they’ll kiss the one that causes me pain It’s not a question of vanity. It’s just a trick of velocity Unbuckle my seatbelt and I want to get up but I stay And Houston is yappin’ and though I am dreamin’ I flip all the switches they say. Is it me or the ship that starts to buckle and sway And as I pitch forward my head hits the floor And someone yells but I’m not there anymore I burn on reentry and look for a soft place to lay As they sleep with the one that makes me lie awake As I drift though the infinite the air’s cold and intimate And they’ll marry the one that’s not right for them Can you tell me what plane that is without looking overhead You should know by the sound If you look up we’ll both be dead ‘cause I’ll fall to the ground Into your open mouth And there’s no room in-side you now so I’ll have to get out And fall back up to my craft and answer those questions they’ll ask Like what was I thinking about? And I guess I’ll marry the one who’s not right for me We’ll I’ve done it several times and it’s always worked out alright You can’t fight velocity
5.
1939 03:55
Stop right there you little thief I felt your touch I watched you growing bold enough to take the world To climb the Trylon Son I know that times are tough We’re tired enough And worse is on it’s way But in 1939 you can see the future shining From the Perisphere to a new world If you take my hand I’ll point you there. When you wake I’ll be gone I’ll meet you again further on Plant your feet on wheels of steel And soon the winds of change begin To blow you through the fair From General Motors down the mall And in the Court of Peace we’ll be released In four months and one day Here in 1939 you can see the future shining From the Perisphere to a new world If you take my hand I’ll point you there
6.
Deep in the heart the darkness of Marlow and Kurtz They were looking for freaks. They were looking for firsts From the Congo to U.S. The tribes of St. Louis The white man forgets Ota Benga’s name But there were debts unpaid. You were shuffled around And before too long you were monkey house bound A little man’s got a strange fate with an orangutan roommate He never even knew Ota Benga’s name From his native land of darkness to the country of the free In the interest of science and of broad humanity Brought we little Ota Benga Dwarfed and without guile Scarcely more than ape or monkey yet a man the while So to tutor and enlighten, fit him for a nobler sphere Show him ways of truth and knowledge Teach the freedom we have here In this land of foremost progress In this wisdoms’ ripest age We have placed him in high honor in a monkey’s cage ‘Mid companions we provide him – apes, gorillas, chimpanzees He’s content wherefore decry them when he seems at ease So he chatters and he jabbers in his jargon asking naught But for money money money, just as we taught Somewhere your body rests in a nice white suit But they stripped you down down down to the roots They can laugh ‘til it hurts Bones down deep in the dirt I hope one night they wake up screaming your name Ota Benga’s name
7.
8.
I want to go away from Berlin Over the wall to the land where my life begins I want to know what it means to be free Under radar that curtain will rise for me Hey flyboy Give it that old college try boy Flying down to Moscow and we’ve got to make time Hey fella Twirl that old propeller Touchdown on Red Square and we’ve got to make time There was a time away o’er the clouds The air’s cold up there But it’s warm here in my cell I found the answer to that pain in my heart I want to meet them oh so badly, so badly Hey flyboy Give it that old college try boy Flying down to Moscow and we’ve got to make time Hey fella Twirl that old propeller Touchdown on Red Square and we’ve got to make time
9.
Good Days 05:18
Sure. Time will tell. That’s not question I asked Do you believe that something is wrong? I feel the need to take lots of photographs Just in case I wake up to find everything’s gone And it seems these days there are lots of omens for sad reminders History chips away And I’ve heard great talk of how evil times are all far behind us Everything’s OK So we build, build, build. Third floor has disappeared Dogs bark blind, waiting for dust to clear Build build build ‘til we have parks and greens Still the trucks cover familiar scenes And everyone knows what Delilah’s been thinking We’ve had the same thoughts on our own We pass by the houses and look in the windows to see if there’s anyone home But no one is home “Delilah”, I said, “It’s simply not over yet.” “Do you really believe this means everything’s lost?” The quieter the nights, the closer it gets ‘Til there’s nobody left who can figure the cost And it seems these days there are lots of omens for sad reminders History chips away And I’ve heard great talk of how evil times are all far behind us These are the good days These are good days So we build build build. Second floor ripped away By talking heads soldered to metal frames Build, build, build ‘til all the birds have flown Find cats homes while we still have our own And everyone knows what Deliliah’s been thinking In times like this we’ve second sight The pet shop is closing soon I will be moving I’m sure things will turn it alright They’ll turn out alright Turn out alright
10.
I can see stones float through the air I’ve found a way but I won’t tell you where That pretty young thing, my Latvian bride My fresh sweet sixteen She’s brand new inside But outside there’s a world where the laws of physics apply But under the Florida moon the rocks are alive I can see lines and they race from the Earth And they point right here I can see lines and they shoot from my hands Sometimes I feel like I’m wasting away Like that old desert sun at the end of the day I’ll think about her, my young blushing bride I built this for her Now I’m locked inside But outside there’s a world where the laws of physics apply But under the Florida moon the rocks are alive There’s a world where the laws of physics apply But inside these coral walls the rocks are alive I can see lines and they race from the Earth And they point right here I can see lines and they shoot from my hands

about

In the press

“Eclectic…fascinating” —The New Yorker

“The surprise is how melodiously their antique-garde music pulls off the absurdly ambitious historical concept.” —The Village Voice

“An artsy blend of ornate chamber-pop orchestration and the woozy ambience of early Tom Waits…a remarkable musical and lyrical depth…adventurous listeners will find them fascinating.” —Amplifier/All Music Guide

Top 10 albums of 2003 ”Phenomenally eclectic collection of cabaret songs based on odd historical moments.” —Philadelphia Weekly

“Timeless ballads full of explosive dynamics, strange instrumentation and ethereal harmonies.” —Paste Magazine

“Calling on a countless amount of influences and crafting something strange and beautiful from a musical past that we seem to have forgotten or never knew in the first place” —Delusions of Adequacy

“Lyrically rooted in the bohemian rags of Tom Waits and musically as expansive and lush as any Jon Brion production.” —Sponic

“Piñataland isn’t about rock and roll, it’s about time-travel…this is a strange, unexpected and in many ways really wonderful album. Whatever you might be expecting from it, it’s likely not to be what you thought it would be.” —Indiecrit

“History music that makes you smarter and a better person for listening to it.” —Roctober Magazine

“Refreshingly original…Piñataland’s penchant for historical perspective seems to know no bounds…the yearning folksy strum and woozy twang propel it beyond the realm of a tuneful history lesson. In their hands, it becomes a stirring meditation on the definably human theme of promises broken, of being fucked over by uncontrollable forces. That it’s done to a searingly lonesome country-inflected twang, augmented by strings, tuba, piano and all manner of vintage instrumentation, is almost besides the point.” —Splendid Magazine

“Amazing and varied work…nothing less than inspired.” —Shredding Paper Magazine

“Wise and witty…with a knack for incorporating really old styles and samples into something that rocks and swoons.” —Philadelphia Citypaper

credits

released April 7, 2003

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Piñataland Brooklyn, New York

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