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Backroads to Owltown

by Macular Degenerates

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1.
Big Ass Fridgidaire Well, so glad you could make it tonight-- has it really been so long? There's an edge to the air and a feeling that runs so strong. We're gonna play us some music tonight, and I hope that is why you came. And we hope you can dig it, but anyways it's all the same. So come in, sit down, shut up Can we just avoid pretense? We wanta hear what each other plays so act like you've got some sense! I said sit down, shut up 'cause out on the road back there is a home and a wife that I miss and a big ass Fridgidaire And we'd rather keep it cordial, but we've all got our things to do. And we thank each and every one as a source of revenue. But we ain't here to hear you talk, so ya'll just relax and listen. Let the music take our minds off all those things we're missin'. So come in, sit down, shut up Can we just drop pretense? We wanta hear what each other plays so act like you've got some sense! I said sit down, shut up 'cause back on the road out there is my home and my wife who I miss and my big ass Fridgidaire Kill the chitter-chatter, nothing else matters but the strings & the drums & the keys It ain't so hard and we like to make art and a few pleasant melodies We ain't no bar band We like to make art and leave a few good memories So thanks for understanding this thing about dancers and wannabes, but we're all adults in here, or at least you ought to be. Can we all take something away from this little rendezvous? 'Cause we might wanta do it again when we've nothing better to do. So come in, sit down, shut up and we'll just avoid pretense. We wanta hear the music play, so act like you've got some sense. We said sit down, shut up 'cause out on the road somewhere we've got a place and a life that we miss and my big ass Fridgidaire
2.
Do What? 05:03
Do What? Everybody I've ever loved loved my doppelganger more. Nothing much to do with me-- I'm neither boor nor bore, but he is everything I'm not and too easily ignored, and that is part of his vague appeal, and shade is its own reward. Confusion is the currency of these psychological sins, and on the scales of her desire the money always wins. Our hopes are as substantial as the words beneath our breath: mine, Please go fuck yourself. Hers, Have a nice death! Tarry not for the day of saints, nor rage for the world to burn, for your lot is of ash and dung and the turning of the worm. Quaff and quibble, purge and spurn, drink of it deep and wholly-- come dying-day the worm will turn and shall not keep it holy. Too much of anything is hell on the heart. Not enough of everything which sets us apart. Too much of everything to keep us apart, not enough of anything which makes for a start. You came in with a gift and said "Open it if you dare." But why today? Why such a gift and why such a vacant stare? You said, "Open it now and tomorrow and forevermore, but never open boxes if you cannot close a door." Do what? Do what? I hold the stranger's bedroom key, I have the stranger's eyes. I have the comprehension of my own foreseen surprise. And now I lay me down to sleep amidst the stranger's night, and sing ophidian lullabies against the hissing of the night. Tarry not for the day of saints, nor rage for the world to burn, for our lot is of ash and dung and the turning of the worm. Cough and quibble, purge and spurn, drink of it deep and wholly-- come dying-day the worm will turn and shall not keep it holy. Too much of anything is hell on the heart. Not enough of everything which sets us apart. Too much of everything to keep us apart, not enough of anything which makes for a start. Unmade mascots teem in pack at the hollow doors of laughter; and every one that came before returns the morning after. For all that we have struggled for will fade upon the siren that signals our running plunge back into an age of iron. You're the insect in my dreams, a cocoon in silk and fleshes, that vanishes when morning strikes the dance of our caresses. I can hear you clicking from the blackness inside my shoes and so I put them on and walk and sing these ludic blues.
3.
Searching for Owltown The bells ringing changes, messages apparently as clear as the notes they sing unto me. Our time's bringing changes, occluded as mysteries go. They omen new life for us, this I know. And suddenly, somehow, this is such a rancid young town. No glimmer, nor life nor reason for me. Shall we sojourn onward to find what a future can be? The old in the new town in the country? So I'm leaving our town to find a place I belong and where I'm bound, all my hopes lead there. If you get to Owltown, would you send me directions please, for now I have found it's not always there... Yes, I'm leaving our town to find that place I belong and where I'm bound, all my hopes lead there. I'm searching for Owltown, can you show me where? For now I have found it's not always there... So we're leaving our town, to find some place we belong, and where we're bound, all our hopes lead there. We're entering Owltown, I can't show you where, but then you will find it's not always there...
4.
5.
Not What I Had in Mind Living in a hurricane Life in the lower case Locked in a rogue state for years Now in another day, I laugh from a further place Love is a better way for me Run from the halfway turn from the OK fight for all that you know to be I was downcast and never knew why I gave all until I bled I was angry and lonely and now I know why I suffered until I said It's not what I had in mind! Life in the fast lane Rocked by the road rage Locked in a lonely place by peers Life in a hurricane left with only a ghost pain Stuck out in the black rain for years Now it's another day I walk on a higher plane loving is a better way for me Run from the halfway turn away from the OK fight for all that you want to be. I was downcast and never knew why I gave up and still I bled I was lonely and angry and no wonder why I suffered until I said It's not what I had in mind! Living in a hurricane Life in the lower case Locked in a rogue state for years Now in another day, I laugh from a further place Love is a better way for me Run from the OK fight all that is halfway Lead, follow or get out of my way! I was downcast and never knew why I knew that I'd lost my way, We are lonely and angry and never know why We suffer until we say It's not what I had in mind! Who abandoned who? Was it you? Only one life to live, Only so much to give, Only one life to live. Who abandoned who? Was it you? They say, take what Life hands you and wait your turn, and just be thankful if it's a rose. You said take it or leave it on its own terms! Then why did you blame me when I did both? Not what I had in mind!
6.
Gray Sensibilities We walked outside to begin the dawn and the games and the Dance of Bones, and everywhere sightless saints were drawn from the faithless embrace of their homes. And they come in threes, in pairs, as one and scream like cicadas in trance. And the rhythms are those you know too well and they're waiting for you in the Dance Whirlwind in a Tilt-a-Whirl, it's a dizzy, busy world. Buzz, buzz in a fog of fuzz, we're the voices of the hive and to the end, if you please, my friend to gift you these, my gray sensibilities. The Jester is turgid with wisdom and the Scholar is learning to think; the singular's starting to multiply and the thirsty beginning to drink. Come, let's make a wager on destiny, while mouthing a toast to chance. Then tell me how much you love me. It's all just a prelude to the Dance. Whirlwind in a Tilt-a-Whirl, it's a dizzy, busy world. Buzz, buzz in a fog of fuzz, we're the voices of the hive and to the end, if you please, my friend to gift you these, my gray sensibilities. Screaming sculptors of fire drowned out by the static. Which one of us dares to quell the storms raging in his attic? And on the horizon, giants beckon me back inside a sleep of inconsequence. Deep calling unto deep, flame calling unto flame, never the two to meet. Whirlwind in a Tilt-a-Whirl, it's a dizzy, busy world. Buzz, buzz in a fog of fuzz, we're the voices of the hive and to the end, if you please, my friend to gift you these, my gray sensibilities. I wandered among the gathered guests, smelling the charcoal smoke. I stood and ate my piece of flesh, and dropped the bones in the fire. And I ambled out across the field, tasting the taste of that chicken's leg, wondering which had been the first to go, the chicken or the egg. Screaming sculptors of fire drowned out by the static. Which one of us dares to quell the storms raging in his attic? And on the horizon, giants beckon me back inside a sleep of inconsequence. Deep calling unto deep, flame calling unto flame, never the two to meet. Whirlwind in a Tilt-a-Whirl, it's a dizzy, busy world. Buzz, buzz in a fog of fuzz, we're the voices of the hive and to the end, if you please, my friend to gift you these, my gray sensibilities.
7.
8.
Victory 06:45
Victory I've heard people say that all good things will end, and we've had some violent weather. But we have a say, and the way it's to be lies in how well we keep it together. The long night seems endless when we are besieged with forces which cannot mean well. And though I be friendless, I will not retreat, I will grapple the gods as I yell... Victory! Just the word spurs me out of my bed. Victory! Just the thought drives me out of my head. The battle is raging that we never sought and treachery haunts every field. But we are decided, unmoved, undivided. We polish the weapons we wield. The tide is a-turn, and the refuge will burn and the spoils to the victor shall go. But I need no part, I will take what I brought. I will gather myself and I'll know... Victory! Over all the insignificant things. Victory! As the wind surges under my wings. I've heard people say that all good things will end, and we've had some violent weather. But we have a say, and the way it's to be lies in how we can keep it together. There is no one love There is no one heart, There's no way to make me believe there is no surviving. My spirit's reviving So long as I breathe, I achieve... Victory! When the world stirs me out of my bed Victory! And the war drives me out of my head Victory! Over all the insignificant things Victory! As the wind surges under my wings Victory! Just the word drives me out of my head Victory! When the world stirs me out of my bed.
9.

about

"Quite awe inspiring, to be honest, as the textures and arrangements used are often quite inventive." Scott Homewood, www.rockandrollreport.com

Matt Howarth of www.soniccuriosity.com writes: "This release features 79 minutes of homey rock music. Grinding guitar, sneaky electronics, and spry percussion generate enticing progressive rock tuneage.

The guitar earns the dominant role with its versatility, whether delivering sultry chords of a soothing nature, or belting out searingly memorable riffs rich with intense delight. The electronics serve as a glue bonding everything together, frequently functioning from a subtle vantage immersed in the mix.

The percussion is vital to these tunes, providing agile locomotion and motivating a sense of pep which fits nicely with the rest of the instrumentation. A percentage of the songs feature smooth vocals, often examining life in the modern world--but tinged with a bizarre slant, such as a man lamenting that everybody likes his doppelganger more than they like him.

These compositions are generally rock tunes, but once filtered through Arnold's talent they present with an eclectic edge. The melodies are durable and attractive, made even more appealing by their off-center delivery, which elevates them from traditional fare with more inventive structure and a dedication to progressive performance."

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released January 1, 2008

Composed, performed, and recorded by Tony Arnold.

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Tony Arnold Florida

Art Rock.

Psychedelic Progressive.

Soundscapes.

Instrumental.

Rustic Funk.

Space Exotica.

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