by 20 Minute Loop

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ravenofroses heard this in 2005 and couldn't stop thinking about it. couldn't find the artist for the first couple years, so i gave up. then, a few days ago, i tried again, i'm in love all over again. so thrilled to have found this band after all those years. Favorite track: Miriam Hopkins.


This CD is SOLD OUT! Available as a download right here!

I like how Nils puts "SOLD OUT" in capital letters, as if selling a couple thousand CDs over several years is an indication of a wild, burning desire on the part of consumers to acquire this highly coveted item. Well... in a way, he's right. For us, this is a minor coup. In the world of the internet (the robot voice says moving its stiff arms up and down), there will be no such thing as "SOLD OUT"--we offer most of our music as downloads.
Having said that, I will resume my luddite's voice and say that there is something to holding the physical artwork integrated in the packaging of a CD or vinyl LP or 7" single. For example, the difference between a high-gloss insert and a matte finish insert... the tactile sense of holding one or the other. I'd rather hold a "dirty" bomb than a copy of Maxim. And not even because it's a "man magazine." It's just that glossy, pages-stuck-together with static, smelly, shiny sterility. Icky! What is that smell caught in those pages? Like the smell of an overworked copy machine, or something. You could ask why I'm smelling a copy of Maxim. Or just let sleeping dogs lie.
Sophie, a young friend of mine, did all of the artwork and lettering for the inside of the insert of this CD. She was eleven or twelve at the time. Now she's about fifteen, sixteen, something like that... She's the daughter of my ex-girlfriend, by the way. It's not like I met her in a park somewhere. Give me SOME credit. First you think I'm smelling copies of Maxim, then you think I'm befriending prepubescent girls in public parks.


released February 22, 2005

Greg Giles- Vocals, Guitar
Kelly Atkins- Vocals, Synths, Rhodes, Flute, Accordion
Joe Ostrowski- Guitar
Nils Erickson- Bass, Guitar, Rhodes, Pedal Steel Guitar
Mike Romano- Drums

Additional musicians:
Morty Okin- Trumpet on I'll Never Forget You
Carroll Ashby- Trombone on I'll Never Forget You
Ethan Diamond- Baritone Sax on I'll Never Forget You
Horns arranged by Nils Erickson

All songs arranged and performed by 20 Minute Loop
"I'll Never Forget You" written by Bob Mould, Granary Music (BMI) administered by BUG

Produced by Nils Erickson and 20ML
Mixed by Scott Greiner
Basics by Desmond Shea at Closer Recording in SF
Additional recording at Palace Recording (R.I.P.), SF Soundworks, and our homes Oct '03- May '04 by Nils Erickson
Thanks to Boone Spooner for assistance at SF Soundworks
Artwork: Sophia
Design: Greg Giles
Layout: Bill Rousseau
Photography: Nikki Pratchios

Released on Fortune Records

Also thanks to Aaron Prellwitz who mixed the 7" version of Cora May at Tiny Telephone in SF


all rights reserved



20 Minute Loop San Francisco, California

Original music for the hook-hungry mob, the nervous foot, the jaded indie-phile.

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Track Name: Parking Lot
I'm not done
I have more to say before the chorus comes
straight ahead
don't look back
back and forth is such a bore

Chorus, bridge, verse and solo
stringing hooks along the shoreline
until you score

One more time
let me hear the song
that makes the hair rise on my arms

The radio's on
the supermarket parking lot
you wait for the song to turn around
Track Name: Cora May
Under skies that pulse with sound
you force it down, the memory still posing as ardor
No disguise can save you now
I'm still around, ingredients to dull the glitter

Bright-eyed doll, so full of fear
and crafted all too carefully
And now you leave me here to wonder
The home you make may bend and break
underneath nostalgia's weight
when I return again to haunt you
Track Name: Properties of Dirt
Then she saw the streets between the crumbled knees of ruined queens,
Statues torn apart from every time her children fought,
A pack of hungry dogs that lick her hands and howl at mournful sounds
From smokeless, lonely towers,
The cold wind pushing up their empty mouths.

You're not alone--Godforsaken, maybe--but you've got a brand new home.

They creep over glass, the missing tears of Lincolns, Cadillacs,
Millions of themselves, the city's salt that glitters from the ground.

You're not alone...

Your room's near the top, where spiders tie your dreams in silky knots,
A board game made of wood, your head against the sloping roof,
A game devised by men who serve the caliph's court and study sand,
The properties of dirt, the smallest stones that work their way through her.

You're not alone...
Track Name: Miriam Hopkins
Tell me a story that ends with a gunshot
A smack to the side of the head
Please don't divulge all the details that bore us
Just skip to the end

Whittle him down to a splinter of dignity
Eyes with a shade of mascara she smeared on him
I wanna walk back home holding the hand of a-
I wanna walk back with her

Oh, what did I say, you cannot survive my curse
Once you lay down here

Why don't you take me away

Oh, with a twist on his sore little headstand
He fell for the pleasure of children who baited him
They didn't smile at his skill as an acrobat
Only to laugh as he slipped and upset
All the flowers arranged in a dirty milk bottle
He kept by the portrait of Miriam Hopkins
The smiling lieutenant's adorable suitor
He heard her sing Clair De La Lune
Track Name: Book of J
Almost a fable where dogs are enabled
to speak like boys
Almost a reptile, splayed in the sunshine,
missing it's tail
Almost a landmark covered in spraypaint,
thumbtacks and nails

Almost a red star, a polaroid flash
a gleam in her eye
It's best not to mock her, sobbing and coughing,
slumped on the stairs
Spiraling through the same ugly building
all of us shared

Goddamn the stench,
the smell of the garbage bags tossed in the hall
Witnesses gathering, too scared,
Jehovah waits out on the lawn
He's standing outside near basketball nets made of chain
Baring his teeth before children
who wait to play a quick game

I'll beg a little
(let's just stay here a while)
just enough to take your mind
(won't you please come inside?)
off of the trouble
(I'm afraid of the dark)
I'll fix the clocks when we get back the lights
(so quiet tonight)
Just one thing at a time

You're not so heavy or tortured
or comfortable or totally distinct

Almost a red star, a polaroid flash
a gleam in her eye
It's best not to mock her, sobbing and coughing,
slumped on the stairs
Spiraling through the same ugly building
all of us shared
Track Name: Carlos the Jackal
Several were shot to hell, brought through the back door, they sat down and plucked out their eyes.
Shut up and bring me the head of the Spaniard on acid who stole every filling of gold that they dropped in my teeth,
Notice how much she keeps tabs on the past-

-six miles, we've seen no signs of life,
She laughed and stuck her gum
Against the side of my thumb.

On the gearstick, passion is measured in Kelvin.
You and your Icelandic ancestors' eyes.

Too much exposure is likely to rip you from
laurels that no one deserved,
Least of all, you and your feeble desire for a million admirers who dote on dead and their corpulent filth.

Notice how much she keeps tabs on the past.

Oh, my traveling days cut short by the grave,
Dismantled by fear and Japanese trains that fly through the air,
And land on the hoods of Indian rickshaws,
Their motors dissolved by all of the salt,
That's gathered in Texas, where Portuguese widows
Eat catfish and curse us,
American fruitcake she left on the doorstep,
So foreigners hate us.
Track Name: It's Time To Honor Ghouls
Stuck between seventeen million dreams

We'll carve pumpkins with our broken hands
I don't wanna trick or treat dressed as you
Boring, boring

My girlfriend has a bloodstained axe in one hand
while the other grips the hair
of a severed head that she stole one night
from a mannequin

I'll make love to a ghoul tonight
with wax teeth and a bulging eye
Blood shot club-footed creep of mine

You've changed
You've changed
Track Name: Ambassadors
The book is slow and reads as though
he paced the room
and had his secretary write
the words he spoke
A legal brief, a dictaphone
And then my eyes were lifted by
the mortal slap, the screeching tires

I'd rather read this book than take a look

The dead can speak in books and charm
the lives of abject souls like mine
A strangers death cannot deliver
love, or truth, or anything but shock

I sat down and cried
Henry James can't lie

If E.M. Forester loved this book
enjoyed, endorsed the time it took
to read the book, I'll sit and read
and mute the scene I saw
in spite of what I said
Her crooked nose, her yawning mouth,
Her pantyhose
The pubic bone, the shattered glass,
The smell of gas

Her grocery bags are scattered by my feet
Just get up and leave
Track Name: 5 AM to 9 AM
Lucy steps up, finds a way to catch the crowd
blowing smoke rings from the corner of her mouth
Come ye all to know the wonders of the world!
Shield your eyes well as the curtains are unfurled

5:00 A.M., our unit's led
to fields adjacent to the dig
Pulled up bones and tufts of hair
Reporters stalk, their lenses stare

You will now recall the dreams you thought you lost
Saved from peril as their ship was torn and tossed

My first love is in my arms
She traces lines that mark my palm
Every nerve too tightly strung
to sense our fragile lives undone
But when I wake the feeling's gone

You'll remember what you lost
Sink in further, you will know just what you lost
Go down deeper, dig down deeper
You'll recover

9:00 A.M., I'm on my knees
in fields that featured in my dreams
Tagged the bones and bits of hair
There's something too familiar here

My first love is in my arms
She traces lines that mark my palm
Every nerve too tightly strung
to sense our lives undone
Track Name: Our William Tell
Bitter-tounged and strung out
I try to keep my lunch down
Yellow pads and needles
My hell is other people

Here we see that nature
is such a ruthless teacher
nothing's accidental
and you're already spent

We played our William Tell
soaked in gin with benzedrine
I never shot so well
And they believed me

so lurid and traumatic
for my preservation
I'll write it down again

We played our William Tell
soaked in gin with benzedrine
I never shot so well
And they believed me

You're always slouching, Joan,
and where's the child gone to now?
He'd rather be alone
than see the bloodstain on your brow
The Federales play
a round of blackjack with my change
The suits don't steer the game,
but they believed me, didn't they?
Track Name: I'll Never Forget You
Never cared a thing about me...
Now I'll never forget you

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