ALBUM MINUS BAND
(Released in Feburary 2005)

NOTES: The grand scheme of this whole thing happened as it was being written/recorded. I realized that a lot of ideas that I have never happen because I can't think of a good way to write them down. Then after I DO write them down, I don't remember EXACTLY how I thought they should go so I can give them to the other people I'm in a band with. When The Arrogant Sons of Bitches went on hiatus, I no longer had a band. For a while this made me think "well, I have no reason to write music 'cause who's gonna play it." After giving up for a couple of months, I started working on a few cover songs including Harvey Danger's "Pike St. - Park Slope." It was a lot of fun to take someone else's ideas and try and make them my own, and since those songs were already on other records I could play around with them and make my own versions and stuff and even if it sucked there was already far better versions of these songs elsewhere. The ideas I came up with rarely sounded like those songs that I was actually covering and I started taking those ideas and putting them into my own songs with my own chords and words. Then one day I was sitting in my bedroom and I thought of the "I'm checkin' out" line in "Sweet Home Cananada." and I liked it a LOT and didn't want to forget it, so I recorded it on my computer with Garageband and the 'internal microphone' which is located SOMEWHERE that I don't know. I really liked it, played it for some people and they liked it too. I already knew I kinda wanted to start a band based on certain ideas, but now I had a song to do it with too. After that, I started recording every idea I had, 60% of them were good. Eventually they slowly and surely became songs. These recordings were mostly done in a bedroom with a Powerbook computer, MBox, ProTools and a one-hundred dollar microphone called the Oktava MK-319 (except for "sweet home cananada which was recorded on the Powerbook's internal microphone) . Some vocals were recorded at the Fad's practice space so I didn't have to piss off my neighbors by cursing as loudly as possible well past dinnertime. I also inclued "Future 86" which was a song I recorded last summer in my bedroom with a SM-58 and Cool Edit. Also, there are backing vocals on that by The Arrogant Sons of Bitches (recorded in a van), The Know How and around 100 kids in a barn in Massachusettes.

click here for the whole album!

Download specific tracks:
1. Blow Your Brains Out On Live TV!!!
2. Does Your Face Hurt? No? 'Cause It's Killing Me!!!
3. It Ceases To Be "Whining" If You're Still "Shitting" Blood
4. Big Plans of Sleeping In
5. I'm A Panic Bomb, Baby!
6. Sweet Home Cananada
7. Funcoland vs. the Southern Electorate
8. Ready... Set... No!!!
9. I'm Too Cooooooooool For Music
10. Pike St. - Park Slope (Harvey Danger)
11. FRRREEEEEEEEE BIIIIIIIRRRRRRD!!! FRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEE BIIIIIIIIIRRRD!!!!
12. Future 86

BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT ON LIVE TV!!! (Buffalo/Manhattan/Long Island)
The two hardcore songs on the album are both revolved around a string of thoughts I had on the subway, possibly while drunk. I had written a lot of songs while I lived in Manhattan while riding subway trains or walking around and while they generally sucked, I could always salvage some of the melodies and make them into different better songs. Anyway, I hadn't been in New York for a real long time and I had scrawled down a bunch of notes/chords and the words "Blow Your Brains Out on Live TV!!!" All that stuff didn't really work together, so I took that chorus and added it to a song that I wrote in my girlfriend's basement in Buffalo during the five minutes that I decided I wanted to have a strictly 80's hardcore band. This was around the time that Bush got re-elected and that guy killed himself at the WTC site and I thought that was a bold protest statement for whatever reason. So I was in the shower and I was thinking about Bud Dwyer and the infamous moment when he killed himself in front of Congress or whoever it was and how he's famous now. Fox was saying "some stupid protester kills himself because of Bush and disgraces 9/11" which I always think is bullshit. I was in the shower thinking about this and thought about "Hey Man Nice Shot" which I believe is about that dude and how when I went to school, we visited the Museum of Television and Radio and they talked about crazy shit like that which gets televised. The point of this story is that name-checking Filter and the Museum of Television and Radio in the same sentence is one of the only things I've ever written that I look at people and say "see... see... i can be funny too" with my eyes.

You've got all kinds of problems
With the state of the world
And there's just one solution
That will get you the girls.

Blow your brains out on live TV.
Four more years yeah right.

Get a song written about you
By a band like Filter.
And you'll become a staple
At the MT&R
Blow you brains out live TV.
Blow your brains out do it do it.
Who cares? Not me!
Who cares? Not me!
Who cares? Not me!
Four more years yeah right

DOES YOUR FACE HURT? NO? 'CAUSE IT'S KILLING ME!!! (New Orleans/Gainesville/Long Island)
So I guess this song is kind of the mission statement of Bomb the Music Industry! in a way because I wrote the lyrics after seeing people in bands just try and be so fucking cool all the time. Then I stayed at the Know How house for a bunch of days and here was a band that WAS really cool and just aren't image conscious. The second half of this song was partially written in a motel six in New Orleans with Sean Qualls. The two of us decided that we like each others' songs and since we're in ASOB together, we should write songs together and they'd be awesome. We wrote this song that had so many parts that I obviously wrote and so many parts that he obviously wrote and we couldn't get anything good. Except for the first like three minutes of the song which were this one part, which has been condensed for your listening pleasure. Oh yeah, a lot of the lyrics to this one are still being worked on so BEAR WITH US!!! (music by jeff rosenstock and sean qualls)

US: Someone the other day was telling me about marketing and how it is so important for a band to sell a t-shirt. I told him that the money goes right back into the same thing and now we're just a breeding ground for more and more consumers. And sellout, shmellout, it's not about that. But I didn't have a problem when I had no cash. Now we perpetuate this need to sell x units every night and if we don't meet our quota, man, we're gonna get into another fight.

THEM: Williamsburg has got the lights turned low and a moron with a laptop is calling this poetry. A singer with a thrift amp brags "Vintage Circuitry". I saw him on the cover of Bop or Seventeen crooning "I'm so lonely/Life is empty/Where's my coke and fucking money?" Tonight at the bar I got a good look at the enemy. He said "My job's looking good and someone else can write the songs for me."

Take a look at your haircut. You're killing me.
Take a look at your glasses. You're killing me.
Placement of the piercings. You're killing me.
Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight.
Take a look at your ripped jeans. You're killing me.
Take a look at your Converse. You're killing me.
Get a shirt that fits you. You're killing me.
Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight.

Soon we'll be in the clear
When we get out of here
Where style is function
And our egos make us fight.
For now we'll live in fear.
We're not sexy enough for this atmosphere.
Someone blow it up tonight.
Please blow it up tonight.

Now we're cloning sheep.
Writing garbage in their diaries.
Reading their AP. Watching Fuse TV.
Kill it, c'est la vie.
Fashion show = your scene.
Bomb the industry.
Then run away or watch the blast.
I'm getting out, man, kiss my ass.
I'm going nowhere, nowhere fast.
I'm going nowhere nowhere nowhere.

IT CEASES TO BE "WHINING" IF YOU STOP "SHITTING BLOOD" (Escondido/Long Island)
To those in the know, it's pretty fucking obvious what this damn song is about. For those who aren't in the know, this is about all the pressures of being in a band that is about to break and feeling like if you DON'T break, you're personally responsible for all of it. It's also about the machine that a band creates when it decided to buy a van, sell merch, put out records, et cetera. Plain and simple. No universal message. Yeah, me neither.

Sing the fucking songs you told the world to sing.
Sing it right unless you want to fail.
Listen back and punch the things that we don't like.
You can't do it right in just one take.

Because you aren't good enough.
You were never good enough to sing your own songs oh so perfect.

If you fuck this up, you fuck the record deal
And respect of all our famous friends.
Drift too far and it is inaccessible.
Do it right! We worked as hard as you.

And we didn't come this far
For you to fuck this up and fuck our whole lives.

So write some songs with fucking hooks
Remember why you wrote songs in the first place.
Let's start a band.
This is all that you can do.

Cut the cookie. Five sharp points to make a star.
Cut the corners, get the biggest tours.
Traffic violations mean bad credit now.
Twenty triple zeroes in the hole.

And it wouldn't be so bad.
If we crashed the fucking van and watch our fucking debt go up in flames.

You know, it wouldn't be so bad.
If we just threw up our hands instead of feeding something
I did not want to create.
Your underground is a mistake.

So write one song without a hook.
Remember why you wrote songs in the first place.
Not for the band
You opened up for yesterday.

BIG PLANS OF SLEEPING IN (Manhattan)
I had never written a nice song about anyone ever and I'm really not sure why. Anyway, this is the first and only nice song I've ever written about a person so far. I had written the vocal melody in my head while I was just around Washington Square Park and I RAN home to 3rd Ave. and 14th St., waited for an elevator for a few minutes and ran and wrote it down. I couldn't think of anything angry to write on top of it, so I wrote a song about staying in one room all day with someone you love, watching tv, having sex, drinking booze and eating ice cream. When I was refining the lyrics I realized this isn't so much a love song as it is an alcohol song. Then I added the part about nailing everyone else's feet to the ground so they can't move thus they can't come over and bother me. At that point the song just became wrong. (Includes a sample from "Shaun of the Dead" which is an awesome movie)

Every day's a hassle when you never sleep at night.
Tossing and turning and shaking uncomfortably.
But today's the fucking weekend
So we're sleeping until five.
Wake up and lock the door and burn off calories.

Never let go when you talk to me.
Your stories are boring, they put me to sleep.
But that's just what I wanted
And I swear that's what I needed,
My busy day of sleeping in.

Cut power to the cell phones, automate all replies
Pass out on couches, put wings in the microwave.
Open up a bottle, it'll beep when they are done.
I heard it beep. Fuck it, man. Let's have another one.

Do you have a prob if I drink some more?
You don't have a problem. Let's both drink some more.
'Cause this is all I needed, yeah
Alcohol and coffee
My busy day of sleeping in.

They're all mindless sheep.
Let's kick everyone else's ass and teeth
Right in
Nails right through their feet.
The world cannot move now, let's go back to sleep.

When we rejoin the public, we'll laugh at everyone.
Chumps who celebrate four-month anniversaries.
They're all fucking suckers, I'm done with everyone.
'Cause I finally found someone who's antisocial with me.

Never let go when you talk to me.
Your stories are boring, they put me to sleep.
Everyone can die now,
'cause I found you and you're perfect.
My busy day of sleeping in.

I'M A PANIC BOMB, BABY! (Oneonta/Long Island)
Written in a car on a drive home from upstate New York after a blizzard. I initially wanted it to be a part of some other thing I'm writing called "John Starks: Motherfucker" but when I got home, I added it in with some other thing I wrote and recorded on my cell phone and it seemed to work. This song is about my many trips to many doctors, mainly this one bald dude who told me that the best solution for being able to fall asleep at night would be to wear these goggles that look like those huge black sunglasses for old people, the ones that go around your entire head. He told me I should wear them all day through school and they cost like $500. He was also asking really intrusive questions for a dude I just met like "DO YOU LIKE PAIN? DO YOU THINK OF KILLING YOURSELF? HAVE YOU EVER CUT YOURSELF? DO YOU SMOKE? YOUR MOM WANTS TO KNOW IF YOU SMOKE?" I later assumed he was a goggle salesman in a fake office.

Mom, please wake up.
I can't sleep. My head's fucked.
I need a hug or a drug.
Please decide.

What's up doc?
Do I think of suicide?
In this room, yes I do.
Where's my form?

Now question 38: do you have trouble sleeping late?
Sure, I've got probs sleeping in.
Please pump me full of Klonopin
Mom, doc, stop taking bets
on whether I smoke cigarettes.

Prescribe goggles.
Make it dark all the time.
Go to school. Get beat up.
Go to sleep.

You're so bald.
You don't know about my
Life with hair.
Stop the interrogation.

I'm a panic bomb.
Please step away from me.
Panic bomb. Panic bomb.

Hey, Anne, I really think
You shouldn't tell me I can't drink.
Sorry, John. You're my best friend
I didn't mean to try and kick your ass in the van.
I can't do weekly visits.
Three to six months for results?
Fuck that shit.

I'm a panic bomb.
Please step away from me.
Panic bomb. Panic bomb.

And I know that you're all just trying to help
But I really think you're all just trying to get rich.
I don't need to be addicted to anything else.
I don't need to be addicted to anything else.

SWEET HOME CANANADA (Long Island)
So, I was getting a lot of messages from an ex-girlfriend who I had been hurt by and didn't really want to call back and share my problems with. While all this way going on, that motherfucker George W. Bush got re-elected and I decided that if I moved to a different country, it wouldn't matter if I had a band or if i had an ex-girlfriend or if i had Bush was president here... all those problems would go away. I guess everyone wants to get away from shit once in a while. This whole song was recorded using Garageband and this microphone that is apparently somewhere inside my computer. You can hear me feeling the computer at the beginning trying to find the microphone. I never did. There's also no electric guitars or bass... just distorted acoustic guitars. (includes a sample from David Cross's "Shut Up You Fucking Baby")

I heard from you today
By digital replay.
You told me that you care
You'll help from over there
I say we're not the same
It's falling on deaf ears.
At eighty miles an hour
When I forget to steer
And if I wrap my car around the guard rails,
It ain't got shit to do with you.
So drop the act, I know your true agenda.

Can't live with the mistakes
I'll move out of the states
To South America
Or north to Canada
I lived through four years of lies.
I've lost faith in mankind.
With no one to befriend
I guess this is the end
And it's not glorious like in the movies
Explosion and a note
It's more like driving as far away as possible alone
And please don't say goodbye
To remind me you're alive.
You've been dead to me
Since I've started feeling dead inside.
So don't look down on me and say we feel same
'Cause we don't.

so I'm checking out
I'm fucking done
Kiss my fat ass
I'm giving up
Eat shit and die
I'm taking off
Have a nice life
Have a nice death
I'm checking out

FUNCOLAND VERSUS THE SOUTHERN ELECTORATE (Manhattan/Long Island)
We were at our first Bomb the Music Industry! practice and John's amp wouldn't work so he blew on it. We asked him what the hell he was doing and he said he didn't know, he was trying to fix it like he would fix a Nintendo cartridge. He then suggested that it would be awesome if we could fix all of our problems like that, by blowing on them. He told me I should write a song about it. I told him HE should write the fucking song, jeez. The next day, I remembered a hardcore song I scribbled down while on a subway while I was in the shower and figured out how this could be a song. John was pretty surprised at the turn-around period of one day. (concept by john dedomenici)

Insurance: blow on it!
Debt: blow on it!
Global warming: blow on it!
Racist asshole: blow on them!
Blow on it like an old Nintendo.

Broken car: blow on it!
Broke guitar: blow on it!
Broken amp: blow on it!
Pissed off girlfriend: blow on her!
Blow on it like an old Nintendo.

>This is how we solve all the problems in the world.
This is how we solve all the problems in the world.

Middle East: blow on it!
Terrorism: blow on it!
Donald Rumsfeld: blow on him!
George Bush: blow on him!
Blow on it like an old Nintendo.

Unemployment: blow on it!
Alcoholic: blow on it!
Ashlee Simpson: blow on her!
Tuberculosis: blow on it!

This is how we solve all the problems in the world.
This is how we solve all the problems in the world.
This is how we solve all the problems in the world.
This is how we solve all the problems in the world.

READY... SET... NO!!! (Manhattan/Long Island)
After ASOB decided not to tour or play for a little while, I was freaking out about what the hell was I gonna do with my life and I started developing these really weird tendencies. One night I decided it'd be a good idea to make a list of these problems I kept blowing up out of proportion and that it would solve everything. It didn't solve anything at all, but it turned into this song. On a lighter note, I wrote the music to this while searching the streets of midtown Manhattan for my grandmother after she wandered off during a family get-together.

I never was a drinker and now I'm an alcoholic, drinking just to fall asleep and hiding my smiles 'cause you can probably smell that shit on my teeth.
Drink it down, golden brown my sweet whiskey.
You feel nice on the inside, so nice on the inside.
Nice on the inside, so let's get pissed.

I never cried at movies and now I cry at the Simpsons.
I hide the tears so you can't see, and I wipe my eyes and pretend that I'm just falling asleep.
Don't come around, I've already destroyed everything.
I'm not coming outside. I'm not coming outside.
I've blown my only chance, so don't make me do anything.

Because from the moment it was up to us to break the rules and disobey, I'd trade it all in for an easy answer to let me raise my fist and say "No!"

I'm a target audience.
Paranoia setting in.
I can't have a conversation.
You're just like the other kids.
I'm well aware that they monitor my thoughts.
And if you count on me for anything, I'm sorry, but you're totally fucked.
You're fucked. Everybody's out of luck.
I'm just a kid who wants to get drunk.
It's nighttime. Look outside.
It's nighttime. Look outside.
It's nighttime. Look outside.
Let's go drink 'til we can't feel shit.

From the moment it was up to us to break the rules and disobey, I'd trade it all in for an easy answer to let me raise my fist and say "No!"

I gotta find something that's wrong with everything so now I'm all alone.
Forget solutions, I'll be at the bar drinking forgetting everything I know.

Then when the record stores start falling then it's up to us to break rules.
Stop sitting in your room watching advertisements and disobey.
Put down the bottle, get a megaphone and shout it to the world:
No way. No way.
No thanks.

I'M TOO COOOOOL FOR MUSIC (Gainesville/Escondido/Long Island)
I don't like noise rock bands that don't have the decency to do anything interesting. I don't like bands that use the f or n words while speaking without any reason for it except to shock people. I especially don't like when bands use those words out of hate. And that's that. (includes a sample from "Arrested Development" which airs on Fox every Sunday at 8:30 and you should watch it)

"Delusions! Delusions! Delusions of grandeur!
Grab the motherfucking tape machine. I'll show you I'm the shit.
Wait and see! Wait and see! Bask in creativity.
I'm too cool for music, faggot. Music isn't cool enough for me…
YEAH! As for the "f" word, pal
That's a poignant social statement from my old home town.
Seig heil! Seig heil! So the world can see
Hate rock isn't hate rock when we call it "irony"

We're doing it right, we're doing it right.
You've got the wrong idea.
You think you're something? Yeah?
You think it's stupid? You don't get it!
We're doing it right, we're doing it right.
You've got the wrong idea.
You think you're something? Yeah?
You don't know anything!"

You can't satirize queer culture if you aren't really gay
Yeah, you can't be anti-PC when no no one cares what you say
And you can say the kids are idiots but you're still up on the stage.
Shock value! Shock value! Shock value! Shock value! Shock
Value! Shock Value! Shock Value!

"I'm just here to entertain!
Like GG Allin, but derivative and lame.
Man, who needs music when you can call people names.
Songs are total bullshit, man. Music isn't cool enough for me."

PIKE ST. - PARK SLOPE (Harvey Danger)
This is a song by Harvey Danger and is a piano ballad in it's original form. I always liked it though, especially the lyrics which Harvey Danger always do exceedingly well. This was one of three songs I was thinking of covering ("Bastards of Young" by the Replacements and "Wave of Mutilation" by the Pixies were the other two) when I decided to see how all my recording shit worked. I actually wanted to put out mini-EPs of cover songs every month, a different artist every month but that turned out to be too much work after I started dealing with this one. For some reason, the tracks to this song were always allocated to my computer (small hard drive) instead of my hard drive (big hard drive) so it became almost impossible at the end to mix it in any way whatsoever. When recording the vocals and guitar parts, there was all this delay because the computer had to process everything, so I had to go in and line all the tracks up by hand, and then the computer would tell me there wasn't enough memory to do THAT, i'd have to restart it and do a little bit more and repeat. So this was a royal pain in the ass and doesn't sound too great but it's the best I've got. It's a shame because I really really do like the song, and the arrangement should have been pretty cool. But I'm also relieved I didn't do this on any of the songs I wrote. (from the album "King James Version" by Harveey Danger)

Drive across the country, tell your story walking.
No one's keeping you captive in the town that let you down (so sorry).
Blame it on the television, blame it on the company;
Don't blame it on the fundamental fact that no one owes you something.

"I've come about my share, i only want what's fair.
Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not greedy.
Like everybody else, i wanna pay my dues.
(I only want someone to tell me who to make the check out to.)

Maybe we could run away and start a little repertory moviehouse or something."
she said, "sorry but i think you might be just projecting
(but here's the dough)."

Pike street to park slope, Brooklyn.

"A community of dabblers who are vain and fond of biting backs
('we hate it when our friends become successful')
And a different school whose energies are spent evading income tax...
And silicone enhancements by the breastful.

Maybe we could run away and start a little repertory moviehouse or something."
she said, "sorry but i think you might be just projecting on to me.
Why don't you try LA?"

"Well when you like something, it's an opinion
But when i like something, it's a manifesto."
(pomposity is when you always think you're right arrogance is when you know.)

"Maybe we could start a little independent repertory moviehouse or something." she said,
"Sorry but i think you might be just protecting your investment or else assigning blame."

FRRRREEEEEE BIIIIIIRRRRRD! FRRRREEEEEE BIIIIIIRD!!!! (Long Island)
Laura Stevenson wrote this song about this gig that she was really bummed about doing. She's a singer/songwriter and plays in bars and stuff. This is about doing that and having redneck idiots (because for some reason EVERYWHERE is filled with redneck idiots) shouting "show us your knockers!!!" or "play some skynyrd man!!!!" So anyway, Laura writes this song... this SKA song and obviously is like "hey, jeff, i wrote a ska song! isn't that weird!" because it IS weird because she doesn't write ska songs. But I get really awkward when people play songs for me 'cause I usually hate them. So, I covered my eyes and put my head in my lap and she played and sang the song for me and it was actually REALLY REALLY good. So I told her I liked it. She didn't like the words and didn't know how to end the song, so I added the bridge, put a bunch of "fucks" in there, and voila! song! (music and lyrics by laura stevenson and jeff rosenstock)

Don't you say
don't you ever ever say that it was worth it for the profit.
Another day
when I wait there shit-faced
Then I smile when I'm on and sing the songs that I did not write.

And they'll dance to it.
And I'll smile and I'll get paid.
Baggy pants are stupid.
Alt-rock, Skynyrd, play another song I hate.

I'll just stay on the state streets
Complaining that it's all the same
but too lazy to change anything.
And I can't spend another day thinkin'
These places on street signs are
the only places that I've ever been.

Drink a free beer,
maybe smoke with the waiter.
(It's) the illusion that they all give a shit.
And some drunk guys yelling
"Free Bird!" and "Show us your boobs!"
and I'll smile and I'll key their truck.

And it sucks so bad
But I made one Benjamin.
How can I be mad?
I paid one seventh of my rent
And maybe I'll buy a plate of eggs.

I'm not feelin' Minnesota.
I sit next to an ATM and people check their balance during my set.
And play cover songs from the 90's
by one-hit-wonders, Chumbawumba, Tubthumper
and a jersey-wearing motherfucker withdraws his twenty bucks.

words and music by laura stevenson & jeff rosenstock

FUTURE 86 (Manhattan/Train to Long Island)
I had just watched Dr. Strangelove and there's this song at the end of it that I thought was FUCKING AMAZING so I decided I could rip it off and no one else would ever really know. Then I lost the DVD (which didn't belong to me) so I couldn't go back for reference when I actually recorded this. This was recorded for ASOB, but when it came time to re-record it, everything sounded a lot more forced and less natural than the original demo, so we opted to keep this version instead and just add the band singing background vocals. We recorded two tracks of vocals on the way to a show in a barn in Massachusettes, one in the back of the van, one in the front. Once we got to the barn, we handed out lyric sheets to all the kids, played this song and said "if you wanna sing vocals on the album version of this song, stick around after the show." We got probably 80 or 90 kids to stick around and sing and clap and the Know How guys did the same. It was a lot of fun, but I decided to put it on this because the compilation it was recorded for never really came out and this is the ultimate bedroom rock and roll song.

Can I stop my life so I can just be with you?
Let's hightail to Hawaii on a plane.
I'll embezzle what's left of my band fund
to take necessary action to destroy what I have made

You and I will move to New York City
I'll get a temp job, you'll start your career
I'm not being fickle, just realistic
the air is moist but it never gets too cold this time of year

So tell me was it worth it?
Answer before I get in my van
to drive into the Pacific
Where I'll probably never see your face again.

Say the word and I'll put my guitar down.
I'll be mad, but at least we'll both get laid
We'll start to fight when I hold it against you
And we'll both agree the thought was nice but I should not have stayed

Take the I-Whatever to desolation
and now fast food's reminding me of you
So i'll write postcards and I'll forget to send them
Thanks a lot, I lost my mind and now I'm losing you

So tell me something awesome
that can last my whole life sentence in the van
'cause I'm on the S.S. Ambition/Bullshit Dreams/Stupid Goals to nowhere
And I'll probably never see your face again.