Famous People Marry Famous People

by 20 Minute Loop

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about

Achtung! We are playing a reunion show on February 24th, 2012, as part of Noise Pop's 20th Anniversary! The show is at Cafe Du Nord, and you can click the link to the right (under "shows") to buy tickets!


Our new album... (dreamy sigh). Kelly, once again, gets credited with playing more than twice the instruments I played on this album. She even quizzed me on whether I really played "synth" (short for "synthesizer," don't you know), and I had to remind her that I indeed played a monophonic line on her Nord Lead for the song "Kirkbride Plan"... I think. I don't know why we abbreviate the word "synthesizer" to "synth." When you say it, it sounds like you're trying to push air between your front teeth to dislodge a piece of spinach. I prefer "the 'sizer." (RIP Robert Moog and Raymond Scott.)

So, this album has lots of polish, lots of hooks, but I hope it's fresh and unusual, too. We are no longer attached to Jim Greer's label Fortune Records; for no good reason, really, because over the last few years, he has been a huge help to us. We just wanted to change up, I guess, see if we could launch a record on our own (I suppose we have always done that with the exception of some important promotional and monetary contributions from M. Greer). The situation has always been pretty casual with Jim; he's more of a helpful friend than a ruthless label owner (although he once called me a "loser musician who's too old, too untalented, and too feeble to gain any kind of recognition in the music business--now put the clown suit back on and stop complaining;" otherwise, he's been pretty nice). Kelly sings and flutes with his hip-hop outfit the Rondo Brothers.

We recorded the basic tracks of this album at John Vanderslice's studio Tiny Telephone. It's really this tiny telephone you have to climb inside, but then it becomes a magical garden full of cotton candy bushes, chocolate rivers, and lollipop flowers. Scott Greiner, our engineer, couldn't find the patch bay for like an hour, and Nils was concerned about "confectionery melt" that might drizzle down the hot tubes of his amplifier, gumming up the works (this is beginning to sound sexual). If you put your hand in the forbidden honeycomb hive in the trunk of the sugar plum tree, the studio suddenly becomes a giant electric circuit board, and evil gnomes with blue lightning-bolt-shaped heads chase you around until your album sucks. So woe betide the tempted! John Vanderslice is a well-known musician, and a formidable songwriter in his own right.
-gg

credits

released 11 July 2008

Greg Giles: Vocals, Guitar, Synth
Kelly Atkins: Vocals, Synths, Piano, Rhodes, Wurlitzer, Flute, Samples
Nils Erickson: Guitar, Rhodes, Clavinet, Backing Vocals
Adam Cunha: Bass and Backing Vocals
Mike Romano: Drums, Percussion, Piano, and Backing Vocals

Additional musicians:
Andrew Diamond plays organ on #2 & #9
Cynthia Wigginton plays violin on #12
Morty Okin play trumpet on #1
David Murotake plays tenor sax on #1
Van Hughes plays trombone on #1
Tom Greisser plays baritone sax on #1
Lisa Erickson sings backing vocals on #9
Horn Arrangement on #1 by Nils Erickson

Produced by 20 Minute Loop
Recorded by Scott Greiner at Tiny Telephone in SF
Additional recording by Nils Erickson
Mastered by John Golden at Golden Mastering
Artwork: Phyliss Bramson
Graphic Design: Cami Manning
Photography: Peter Ellenby

tags

license

all rights reserved

feeds

feeds for this album, this artist
Track Name: Vanilla March
Make up yer own words, send them to us, and we'll have a party where we read them aloud while we eat cheese and crackers. There is no prize, just entertainment for us.
-ne
Track Name: Dr. Vitus Werdegast
Back then you were a 12-year-old stoner,
You listened to Zeppelin all day,
Zeppelin all day
You thought Jimmy Page was a god.
A double-necked guitar,
A white swan in your arms and swan songs are long.

The Psychedelic Furs were the best band.
They made the '80s melody sad,
Happy and sad
You called me a fag,
You said I didn't know what was rad.
A black shirt ripped in half,
The shirt back read that
"Bela Lugosi's Dead"

"Bela Lugosi Is Dead"
Tell me who that is.
A morphine addict's grin you saw on television.
Track Name: English as a Second Language
Oh, today... you found out why they don't like you, you found out why they don't like you

It's not the same. Your power's lost. A crowded mosque where rows of faceless men resemble laundered sheets and calloused feet like children's gypsy nightmares when they misbehave, and parents creep beside their beds to whisper threats, a stolen child, your bones are boiled and thrown aside.

You found out why they don't like you, you found out

The infidels are fast asleep. Their dreams are full of Persians speaking Arabic through broken teeth impossibly. When you learn Farsi...
You found out why they don't like you

Oh, today...
Track Name: The Bone is the Orbital Planet of the Nerve
(Wake up you lucky boy...)
You were chosen with such care when you were born
It's nineteen sixty-four!
You will volunteer to wear a uniform

The floor of the station cradles my life
I had a grip on him, had him picked from the corner of my...
eyes squeezed shut and I'd know him a mile away
And the smell! I recognize it well...

Smoke and whisky wrung him out
Dragged him down
Drove him from his home
He tries to kill me, just about blacking out
before he slams a full soda-glass bottle
down on my skull, down upon my skull
Seeping out a nineteen year-old recruit
all the blood meant for the...

War of nerve and bone - showing very limited attention spans
I've never been so lost and alone
The yolk of my youth slipping through their grimy hands

The doctors will bet on left or on right... side of my face is numb, like a line was drawn
Am I paralyzed?
One seizure a day keeps me in the game
Is this Hell?
I recognize it well...

Smoke and whisky wrung him out
Dragged him down
Drove him from his home
He tried to kill me and just about snuffed me out
when he slammed a full soda-glass bottle down on my skull.
Using all his might, leaving me to fight my own impossible war on the ground

Left me on the ground
Bleeding on the ground
Seeping out a nineteen year-old recruit
all the blood meant for the war!
Track Name: Automatic Pilot
Rifle shot, gun report,
Sounds a lot like bubble wrap when it's snapped
Fall to the floor,
We fall to the floor,
Scratching slabs of concrete with our nails.

Automatic pilot is a fantasy, you've got to fly that airplane through a cloud of friendly fire.

Arts and crafts, (God's eye, sticks found on the ground)
Photographs (Crossed and colored yarn we wrap around them)
Taken by a textile eye.
It will bend you to the will.
Bend you to the will.
Artwork uniform and preconceived.

Automatic pilot is a fantasy, you've got to fly that airplane through a cloud of friendly fire.

Send me home from summer camp.
Muslims, Jews, and Christians make the Trinity.
Abraham belongs to me,
A sewerage treatment plant for my atrocities.

Automatic pilot is a fantasy, you've got to fly that airplane through a cloud of friendly fire.
Track Name: Empire
Oh, baby, you move like you're crazy.
I'm in love with your shoes.
No laces, each tongue out of place, and then the soles slap your heels when you move.

This isn't fetishized, this is your shoe
This isn't fetishized, this is your shoe
This isn't fetishized, but keep in mind, keep in mind,
Your pleasure when peeling the shells from several hard-boiled eggs.

Four children stare out from a porch swing and they're stoned, bored, restless.
Your tongue drying up in your mouth.
God save the empire!
Cold, thin fingers numb to the realm of desire.
God save the empire!

An object you touch when words are enough.
The words I can sing or whisper or scream.
The shape of your feet kept under the sheets.

The emperor's spy is telling you lies. (Don't, she might hurt you...)
It happens each time his shoes are untied.

Stoned, bored, restless.
Why do we touch everything?
God save the empire!
Track Name: We Wait for the Crown
I gathered my strength to look at her hands
In one was a flame, the other, a man.

Such choices are wrong
Her face becomes pale
We wait for the crown
We wait for the wail...

Is that all I am?

Will someone pick up my scent through the flurries of snow?

When the world comes
Desperation fueling its cries
Turn on your heels
Learn how it feels to say goodbye

I labored for days to keep him from harm
As I closed my eyes she opened her arms...

Is that all I am?

Will someone hear my poor heart as it sputters and slows?

What have you done?
This creation will suck you dry
Now that he's near
None of us hear your soft goodbyes

Is that all I am?

Will someone teach him, remind him of me as he grows?
Track Name: Mercury Vapor
I can't make our plans,
You separate in my hands,
You slip between the crooked lights,
I don't care.

I don't care if I die, if you wind up dead.
"Subvert normality" was our anthem.
Let's say we sit waist-deep within a snowdrift until our bodies are warm,
Until our bodies are warm.

The monk-ish hum of mercury is vaporized at night,
Biting through the sidewalk first,
Then the earth.

I don't care if I die, if you wind up dead.
"Subvert normality" was our anthem.
Let's say we sit waist-deep within a snowdrift until our bodies are warm,
Until our bodies are warm.

Let's say we sit waist-deep within a snowdrift until our bodies are warm,
Until our bodies are warm.

I don't care if I die, I don't care if I wind up dead...
Track Name: Latin Names and Straight Pins
Are they doomed
Are they really doomed?

We'd make one hell of a show!

Sometimes they bite...
(no easy task to catch them, creeping under ground)

Categorize...
(with Latin names and straight pins.
Gathering dust under my bed)

La la la
I don't wanna know!

Entre vous, entre...
Calmez-vous!

Bereft of all I hold dear...

Do I exist (unless you're hovering here, lording over me?)

Maybe your Christian sensibility will stay your hand and keep my heart still

La la la
I don't wanna know!

Oh, I'm a good man!
I'm a just man!
I'm a real man!
Track Name: ESMA
All my troubles started when I fell asleep.
Push me through this door and watch me move my feet.
Headaches, hangnails, phantom pains, and fever dreams.
If I make it through this day, I'll make it through my life.
I don't wanna go back to bed...

My sweet boy you've had a bit of lousy luck.
Now fix your grin and lift your chin and pick your spirits up.
What's the use of saying things could be much worse?
What's the use of saying you're a worthless jerk?

Let's examine your life by putting it beside...
Argentina (Alfredo Astiz)
I could be a student captured by the sea.
A Swedish girlfriend (Seventeen and four months)
I could be condemned to die when education (Desaparicion)
Turns the students into spies,
The Rio de la Plata's child...

All my troubles, all my friends, and all my needs,
If I make it through this day, I'll make it through my life.
Track Name: The Kirkbride Plan
Of course the shadows linger far too long
To pose a threat to anyone
I search for clues to prove that I'm alone
Which means I'm close to you

You can trust me this time
Be a brave little soldier
Open your eyes...

Devils and doctors will comfort you
Paw through your thoughts and secure your room
Don't let them take me away from you

They exorcised the voices from my life
They let me see the sun again
I used to feel so safe and strong inside
I used to feel alive

You're no less of a man
Little set backs are normal
I understand...

Devils and doctors will comfort you
Parcel your mind until you're subdued
Don't let them take me away from you
Don't let them take me away from you
Track Name: Winsor McCay
He was Winsor McCay!
Reincarnate, reincarnate.
Every day we'd say a prayer to save him.
Robots fought for his life,
Unsuccessfully, but then we can't beat a brain
To kill a mushroom softly growing...

In the shadows, making space, making room.
Choking fires, cracking skulls, sinking moods.

Where's the angel?
The spoiler-fitted flying angel,
Her spines with flaps to stabilize her.
She flew into the room just long enough to tease the spirit from him.

You don't have a snowball's chance.
Your kindness is like a dance.
Walking slowly, distorting everything you see.

Distortion is just like love,
It's passionate, fucked-up stuff.
What's the matter?
You wrote a hundred million songs.

Songs praising the mutant race,
Discovered in outer space.
Heaven help us!
If men like him are taken in...

Robots hatched from an egg,
Metal bodies, helicopters,
This is the way that Logan flies from here to
Heaven drawn on a page,
Blackbirds flying, swimming pools alive with his mind,
Conceiving creatures never found in the books,
But only sparking in the parts of his brain.
Only a fungus would complain.