Thursday, July 29, 2004

Razzle Week: Fourth Day

Children's undelivered letters to Razzle.


Tues 6 1984

Deer Mr. Razel

I like you.  You are nice and have a nice sound.  My dady says that you make the devls music but when I here you music I see angles.  Will you make my doggy come back.  He was in the yard and made a hack sound and then he is gone.  My daddy said that he is ben tookt to a farm and is happy.  Is my dady a liar?

Lucy W.
Zebulon, NC


Tues 6, 1978

Razzle is the best.
I like metal and heavey rock.
Razzle is metal and heavy rock.
I like Razzle. 
Can you make Chris Schultz stop beating me up.
I would give you a dollar.
It is all I have.

Blaine Tuppance
Ft. Wayne, IN


(date unknown)

Dear Mr. Razzle

My mommy went away.  Did you take her?  Why? 

Fayetteville, NC



Dear Razzle,

I saw you all play last night at my mother and step-father's reception.  I think you are great.  I have never had such a good time even though I don't like my step-father and he doesn't like me.  I think he is a jerk.  He doesn't like good music.  I am sorry you all had to play from the Lawrence Welk Ultimate Fakebook.  And I am sorry about the tuxes.  I was embarassed for you. 

When Mr. Robb gave me that piggy back ride I have never been so happy in my life.  You know, being born with out the ability to laugh and run at the same time has mean that I have lived either a happy and slow or fast and sad life.  It is tragic.  Shouldn't the children of America be running and laughing at the same time.  Watch any commercial for medication and you can see I am gettign fucked.  Please you have to help me.  Nurture me in the bosom of your rock and perhaps my legs and laughter will get in concert and I can live the American Dream.

Julius Hodge

Wednesday, July 28, 2004

Tuesday, July 27, 2004

Razzle Week: Day II

Excerpts of interviews with the "men" of Razzle

From Guitar Player, June 16th, 1986

GP:  Tell us how you developed your awesome technical style.

Bob Wall:  Well, you see first I was walking through this corn patch with this boy I knew, he went to school with me and he said he had bottle rockets and I said I wanted to see them there bottle rockets but he said you gotta come with me to my house and I said alright and we cut cross this patch of corn and there was a wild rabid possum a-comin' up on us and I hid up to the top of the tree and the possum done chased this boy clear cross tarnation and creation and he run kindly like I seen a little man dance up to the fair so I started to dance out on this branch all nice like and was cutting capers and clappin and this possum was laying this boy up good and chewing his face and the like and then I fell down and when I woke my daddy told me it was time that I mow the yard and I said but daddy, daddy, I'm on the last level of the Poltergeist video game.  (Rubs baby oil on arms)

GP:  Tell me about the rumor I've heard that you and Hendrix were going to collaborate before he died.

BW: Jimi's dead?  Oh, God in heaven, take me now.  Woman, woman!  I need my liver pills and a diet cola!

From Good Housekeeping, June 16th, 1992

GH:  How many children do you have?
Dave Cantwell:  Oh, man, I don't know.  Let's see.  There Louis and Jane and Ander and Coletrane and Lil' Trane and Joe Champion and Texas and Phylisha and Jerusha and He-Who-Cannot-Be-Named and She-Who-Cannot-Be-Named and Lucy and Busta Trucks and Mafhouse.  How many is that?

GH:  And this garden?  I've never seen a garden in Durham.
DC:  I live in Durham?  Oh, God, sweet fount of my salvation, take me now!  Kerry, Kerry, call Budget, call UHaul.  Get the babies and the Kitties and the fish!


From New York Times Sunday Magazine, June 16th, 2000

NYTSM:  I'm sorry that Mr. Bjorkback couldn't be with us.  What can you tell us about his expeditions?

Torch Marauder:  Like shaved fox lingers
                            Too long before the mirror:
                            Bjbk hasn't written

NYTSM:  Is it true that he has taken up with a previously unknown indiginous South Pacific tribe and been enthroned as their master, seer and fiscal salvation?
TM: Well, it's funny you should ask--(Television flashes on and the grimacing face of the Red Caped Rocker appears)

RCR: Bjorkback's on an island, not guarding his first editon Fantastic Fours!  Why am I watching Judge Judy! (Bobby Gibbs wakes up and writes in his diary: "Diary, today I had the worst nightmare.  I was running thorugh a feild of corn with a young man and we were beset by a wild oppossum, perhaps ill.  The young man ran to a tree like a baby to a mother's breast and I was left to feel the cold maw surround me.")

From The American Journal of Law and Religion, June 16th, 2004

AJoLaR:  Mr. Robb, can you comment on this week's decision as it applies to sentencing standards?

Mike Robb:  ...

AJoLaR:  Would such applications, if applied as broadly as you imply they might be, work against the courts?

MR:  ...

AJoLaR:  How will this affect Razzle?

MR:  ... (Grabs 1940 D'Angelico [Excel, Sunburst, very good, OHSC, $24,000.00], hits interviewer across forhead with headstock, plays Dee)

AJoLaR:  Razzle's breaking up?  What the Fuck!

Monday, July 26, 2004

Good-bye Musical Absolutes

On Friday, July 30th, music will cease to exist in a perfect, unadulterated form.  Hundreds, if not dozens, of young men and women will be left without a musical compass to direct them towards the multi-colored mount of leather and lace clad awesomness.  This week the Tropic of Food salutes the MEN or RAZZLE.

How did they form?
In 1923 an expadition to the arctic circle disappeared.  No one knows what happened but we do know that they discovered, deep below the ice, an ancient creature--indiscribable with the petty and paltry words that our pale language has cursed us with--and many ancient stones with untranslatable writing and pictures of strange cities of non-euclidian geometry.  The exploreres were hungry and tried to cook up the ancient slumbering elder god.  Inside they found the coocooned corpses of four men and a couple marshall stacks.  Somewhere, over the blanched, invisible horizon, a thunderous guitarmony glided on feathery wings.  Their minds snapped instantly.

History does not record how the elder god tasted.

Why are they breaking up?
Because the PATRIOT ACT is making them.

What records have they recorded?
This discography is speculative at best.

  1. Withered Wurms Beyond the Seventh Sun of Rhyn:  Asylum Records (1976)
  2. Blow: Elektra (1977)
  3. Mexican Delimma--A Rock Fantasia: Virgin (1977)
  4. Vs Nantucket: Warner Bros. (1979)
  5. s/t: Scotti Bros (1980)
  6. Rings Around Heaven: Arista (1981)
  7. Saul Sabberday--Idiot Spy (soundtrack): Epic Classical (1982)
  8. Quaker Hustle: Columbia Japanese Imports (1983)
  9. Players, Ladies of Destruction and Me: Smithsonian Folkways (1984)
  10. Quintessential Nights: Sony (1985)
  11. s/t II: Rykodisk (1986)
  12. Works: Rhino Handmade (1987)
  13. Skanks of the Sun--A Rock Shymphony: Scholastic Records (1988)
  14. Cootie Moon (soundtrack): WEA (1989)
  15. North Durham Shuffles, Disco Release, Cupping the Breast of Destiny (reissues): Merge Records (1990)
  16. My Disease is Chromatic: self-released (1992)
  17. Tacodrome (soundtrack): EMI (1992)
  18. Rambling Rose (soundtrack): Universal (1992)
  19. Heaven is a Heavy Place for Lovers: Fiction (1993)
  20. Tuck Back Warriors: Def Jam (1994)
  21. 4 Biddin' Dance: Def American (1995)
  22. Cash in a Duffle Bag--a Road Diary-Live 1973-2001: American Records (1996)
  23. Cantwell: Sire (1997)
  24. Wall: Sire (1997)
  25. Bjorkback: Sire (1997)
  26. Henderson: Sire (1997)
  27. Blingin' in the Reign: No Limit (1999)
  28. 7 Song CD: self-released (2001)
  29. Robb: Sire (2001)
  30. All Those Wasted (Y)ears: Pox World Empire (2004)
I have a record that isn't listed above that is credited to Razzle.  Is it worth anything?

Though in recent years unknown Razzle records have fetched staggering sums on the musical black market (upwards of $7) I can assure you that what you have is worthless and in fact probably would cost you to get rid of so just sent it to me with a check for five dollars and a picture of you in the following poses:

Dress'd as Link from Legend of Zelda
Dress'd as Fish from Barney Miller
Dress'd as Linc from The Octavo Blanche

Sunday, July 18, 2004

Because this is a blog

It only seems right that from time to time we link approvingly to another blog.


Thursday, July 15, 2004

Cancel Everything

If you like pop--and you do I know--then I don't see why don't already own "Headphone Park/Cancel Everything" by Harlan.

It is only 4 dollars. If you get it and don't like it I will give you the four dollars you spent--you have nothing to lose. This is THE music of the Fall--back to school, the girl you like has been away at academic camp, all your pencils are new. A must if you like songs about drum machines, failed high school bands and the South.

I promise.

Tuesday, July 13, 2004

Become a Park Ranger

Have you got what it takes to be a bonafide Park Ranger? Start your summer reading late with the following and you'll have completed 1/5 of the requirements to earn Park Ranger status.

Visionary Film, P. Adams Sitney
Metaphors on Vision and Brakhage Scrapbook, Stan Brakhage
The Body Artist and White Noise, Don DeLillo
Mother Courage and Her Children, The Life of Galileo, The Good Person of Szechuan, and Brecht on Theatre, Bertolt Brecht
Silence, John Cage
Ocean of Sound, David Toop
Postmodernism, Or, The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism, Frederic Jameson
A Year with Swollen Appendices, Brian Eno

Refresh the Tropic of Food on an hourly basis to get the most up-to-date details on pursuing the rest of your Park Ranger requirements. [Park Ranger status does not permit one to attend Audubon Park rehearsals or board meetings but will further enrich a heretofore mere fan's appreciation of (and spiritual growth from) future Audubon Park listening.]

...ultimately, a plain and simply put categorical directive for the true headz.

(1/2 of) The Upper Echelon of Melodious Decoration

Translated Eggs

So much better this way.

To Boze Bees Outside, These Bees


in Babrdstown give they don't a shit --
they're writing on the wall.
Glowing bottle loll of the INN empty in the room.

The sky keeps my small hand
and prays vanavond for me.
My academic team leaves because the state meets.

And if it develops get correct
I'll you vanavond run house
and as we're right with luck
we'll a real bar sees fighting.


Oh, my bad woman: you had get of the bus
in the middle of the worst snow storm which was there ever.
You climb below a dike under the darkened sky.
Snow gleaming but quick you're going melting.

And you are only aroused curiosity or could you let go
but it's a brand-new clothing and brand-new low.
You stick from your weapon and climb in jeep
and in your manner you learn classify all concerning Bombay.

Oh register! Why do you shout?

The register sleeps in venstersill.
To be small ears flicking quiet.
I am slowly which he's aroused curiosity that dreams
as sun moves concerning its back.

He's in my naked leg with a cruelty
that's that seldom in Carrboro it is laying seen.
He's the best cat in world is this I knows.
He's the best cat in the world --
tells me that found oneself I'm.

The loud half hour

You've got Washburn with closes Floyd increased.
I've got a broken track four below a battery of dirty kleren.
Everyone studies ahe for the middle of the term of office ECON
but in my space PLUS fragrances such as the it's approximately to audition burn

It's loud half hours vanavond.

My vriendenrob bought only brand-new TKO
and he said he to loan us to the floor TOMs for school brio would show.
I don't know how I believe concerning the fact that your father says
that we are favoriete local link are.

The It's loud half hours vanavond.

Green sanctuary

the green sanctuary returns to me:
this way prepared these cogs to eat.
Reedy areas clamours my name from.
Tap its this way beautiful against your body.

A calamity of cavities and knolls --
drags the rood and living is fed up.
Doesn't the joke have it's told
and as this way it feels fortunately?

The dormitory of brand-new haunts.
Vanavond a craft industry still unlearned!
Pale palmdruk against the window.
"Let's sing together in shower."

The comfort of machines offers no piece of opinion
with them buzzing and them sadder are find clicking
to they than I since they stare and hope blankly pleasant,
concerning of god who them will paint a sign saying,
"This manner, this manner! Bowl with me tonight."
But in the battery of calculations on the floor missing we it lifts.

Crookshanks Diddles missed on the island

vanavond! The van of the church

when they the door to narthex closes
I can't krijg to sleep because the pillow fight
pronounces by the grant room to me.

I dense my sleep pocket little will move to of you centimetre for centimetre.

Each space has darkened
and I'm a phantom tale now telling over a time
I a small blauw slightly saw that it is put to you in functioning.

I dense my sleep pocket little will move to of you centimetre for centimetre.

To the ant you lazy boneses

the toffeeboom by it more weak too late
vanochtend no matter what being done get.
In a small house I in the angle have bent
that and have waited if I the weet I would have.

Perhaps the days too long, the longing are all have gone,
but it's I must make a terrible choice.
Perhaps it is its too long, the knipsel all is done
but I weet with which I want pray

and remove myself, strawberry in my eyes.
When all vegitables animate: I'm guards.

This way we stop the peak of the tree of snakes

labyrint pursued
at the wasmuseum and 3-D.
Melting and Jefferson fingers
in a connection wire: At story's eindchrist's
the verrijzenis and Dolly Parton singing,
"Islands in Stream."

In dark hang some masks dag-Glo
and behind the meter miss the man some cogs.
Oustside a sink grows grass. To find gone klampen
ours we our together and at the sign of the TERMINATION
fixed a pale voice, "Hello." says;


Monday, July 12, 2004

The Lyrics of Audubon Park


Winter Gala (Jesus Wasn't a Doctor Either)

Despicable Cousin
With a beer in hand, at the bridge on Christman Spur,
the Night rolls by. Cut the lights on the car and in the dark
we listen to the tape rewind; and the fireflies--perverted
snow of a Summer night--and the lonely shoats float by.

I hope to God there's a horror lurking inside
this old farmhouse because in the dark all I'm left with
is the scent from her blouse. And painted on the walls:
the names of bands I don't even like. I write "La la la la la la la."

A pair of shorts in a field! Swimming trunks just to bind my hand!
With your lips to my ear to define a phrase I don't understand--
tonight a short song will end: a feeling I'm just starting to comprehend.

And we'll drive just to drive! We'll stay up all night just to stay up!
You never answered my letters--or maybe it was me
that never answered yours, but tonight, I know you're mine.
Tonight, I know you're mine. Even if it's only in our mind.

Even if it's April, May, June, or July.

Frightened by the Lake
Below the dam, giant catfish swim
and the branches all rot. She sits
on a mossy rock--or a tooth covered in clay
and I know I'm a city covered in snow.

She remembers waking up at dawn
and all the faces bleached bone white.
I'm just algea on the surface trying
my best to kill the light and I know
I'm a city cut with roads--

and she's Frightened by the Lake,
Frightened by the Lake, Frightened
by the Lake--and it's her own heart
she's going to break.

Rip the pages from your grandmother's
diary and in the margins bleed yourself dry.
Let's build a shrine to all the boring guys:
self-destruction's fine but it's not my cup of tea
and I know that neither can let it show
and I know that this love will never go away--

and she's Frightened by the Lake,
Frightended by the Lake, Frightened by the Lake...

Ghost City
I know she's got a problem mind and the stories
she tells herself break like brackish water on the shore.
And the tries but the mouths all gape like a cave
on a lake where she can go and hide for a little while.
The sun's just a disk of dust turing our tears into rust
as we water the financial page. What childhood is this,
colder than a God that may or may not exist, like your ear to my lips?

I wish I was a bullett from a gun, pressed
to your chest. I'd split the silence
with a shiver. I wish I was an arrow from a bow,
rattling through her bones--instead of an empty quiver.

I've got a Ghost City deep inside my heart
and a downpour will wash its streets clean.

And when she raises her voice to sing, she raises
it to sing with me; even though we pass in and out
of key. Ruined Towers and Broken Bridges--
my hand moves when your leg itches--
and I wonder: do you understand me?

We are TEENAGE HORSES--more bored
than the sun, more bored than the sun.
We are TEENAGE HORSES--but I've
got to let her run, I've got to let her run.

Let me take you down to the river
where we can play brother and sister.

Empire of Towns
"In the Empire of Towns I waste my years,"
she says as she calculates the tounge of tears
that hang pendulous from her lips.
"I had a dream last night that didn't make any sense,
but the feeling lasted all day."
I come home through backyards.
I can make digital time out through the blinds,
out through the blinds.

And if I see the sun rise tomorrow
I'll wake in another world.

"They were my eyes I saw in the painted print,"
she says to me as she pens her last lament
but I know that I get carried away.
Then she admits something to me
that I can't bear to think about--
with a laugh that saws me in half.
I come home through back streets.
"Next year I dont' know where I'll be.
I don't know who I am.
I don't know what I want.

But if I see the sun rise tomorrow
I'll be tickled with the world;
but if it's just a silent movie
I'll cut the piano springs with a word."

Fantasia on Ulalume Pts. I-III
[Redacted] sits on the floor. With a broken pen
she draws the Moon giving birth to a Wolf.
The Director of the centre takes her hand
and says, "Let's get you cleaned up,"
and they begin to wash away her name.

But, Oh, Isabelle! When will the world turn its eyes to you?
But, Oh, Isabelle! When we realize that it's you that we need?

[Redacted] tightens her bow and draws it slowly
across the bridge. Then she stops and says,
"I don't think that I am ready for this."
She's got a peice that she would like to play for us tonight
I think it was called "Fantasia on Ulalume Pts. I-III."

But, Oh, Isabelle! When will the song stop spoiling your fitful sleep?
But, Oh, Isabelle! There's someone out there even for you and me.

The werewolf's tears are fine,
but we'll never, ever know!
We'll never, ever know!

Sympathy for Youth
She says her heart breaks a little for everyone as she
shares its cranberry contents with mine. Exhausted bed
or exhuasted eyes? I feel like I'm not here even though
I know that I'm not. I have to have Sympathy for Youth
becuase I know what it's like to be too young.

She says, "We can go outside if it doesn't rain;
or maybe we should even if it does."

Too young!

What did I throw away? What did I forget?
If I climb this tree, I can make it end.

Too young!

A Plum in Light and Air
I feel like a Plum in Light and Air. A glass of water
in each room. She skates across the surface--
the tension mounting on my face. Our eyes
are weightless, weightless; disappearing and reappearing--
I know you're afeared. I decide to just play the wall:
the DJ's light, they hypnotize, they hypnotize, they hypnotize me.

There's a cessura just before my jam comes on--
I see her sitting alone. I tap her on the shoulder
trying not to pass-out; her small gloved hand in mine.
Our eyes are weightless, weightless--closer and closer,
we are rocking back and forth. There's a gulf
between my cheek and her bangs but it's close enough for me.

We are lost in the light's gaze.
We are trying hard not be alone.
We are learning something we cannot name.
We are trying hard to be left alone.
With the sound all around,
to be left alone, with the sound all arond.

Broken Tooth
My retardation's like a Broken Tooth.
Googling girls I've known since youth
just to make sure they're still alive.
There's a box sitting 'gainst a wall.
When I sleep, I sleep in an endless hall
and my eyes are paying me back for the silence that I seek.

Can you bear to leave home twice?
A pleasant torture not of my device
but I've got a locket for you to throw away.
I'm half the distance from my finger
to the sound. I bury my face in the cold ground
and my tears give birth to silent chicks that cluck,

"Regret is a fuzzy song to let us know
that once we weren't so wrong.
Nostalgia always overcomes any peice of mind."


Empty Choir at the Camp Meeting
When you go to the camp meeting, on Saturday night,
take along a little peice of pencil so you can write
all of the words that come tumbling out of your mouth,
put them in a letter and send it to my house.

I know that I want you to stay but you hear a voice
that asks you so much more. Is there really a choice?

I can see a lonely girl, rocking in a rocking chair.
She has grey in her eyes and grey in her hair.
When she was a little girl she used to sing along--
always forgetting the words to this song.

I know that you get tired of me, but that's alright.
My tounge lays dead in my mouth--a reflection on a pond.

Gum Run (instrumental)

Window Lifestyles
Something in your good-bye sounds just like an Indiana Friday night:
that terrible, empty sound coming through the corn.
You are back lit by a bright light in your black nit--
I just might hang that look hanging on the look in your eyes

like a parking lot after a thunderstorm.
Your hands are two dry riverbeds.

How much did the metaphor mean the night before?
Or should I say: did the empty object imbue the pink sign
with a tacky light? Like a disco ball, or Christmas light
or bales of hay; or favorite theme: an evening under the pale gree sea.

Like a parking lot after a thunder storm
your hands are two dry riverbeds.
I thank God I remember everything;
A bottle of MadDog in the Mulberry glistening.

I dyed my shoes to match yours. Your're like the prom!
The armory doors are locked and everyone's gone!
The band is tuning up for the last song!
At least I still have the pictures. You're like the prom!

Something in your good-bye sounds just like an Indiana Friday night,
and the empty field means everything to me.

Dowager w/ a Hatchet I'm in love with the memory of an awkward note I wrote.
It's 8th Grade and she's a drunk already
and I wish that I was wine as I watch her wipe the beer
from her lips with a forearm and a sigh.

And if I could go back in time and take away all the tears you've cried
I wouldn't change a thingle thing because I love you just the way that you are.

There Is a Blank
Oh Vera--I see you bathed in unnatural light, when not five hours ago
I held the hand of a man that I love as he died, but that's alright,
I've still got an orange blanket with which to dry my eyes.

And the fields are lush--

There's a Blank where I ought to be.
The crumbling walls are the walls that surround me.
And Cynthia, your vain sister's syllables are not the key.

Was it your hand or mine?

Oh Typee--we sailed to flee a land gone mad. Write these words
and place them on my tounge and watch me Spring alive.
A black and oversweet soil pours from my eyes.
I spent the Fall drawing my map and the Summer
washing it away--but you give me Hope!

There's a Blank where I ought to be.
The crumbling walls are the walls that surround me.
And Cynthia, your vain sister's syllables are not the key.

Was it your hand or mine?



Ghettos of the Sun
In the Ghettos of the Sun I am waiting with my boyish smile slowly fading
and the looks that we get are so terrible. The languid laughter is lowing
across the mowers still mowing and the withering weeping
is just part of the cell.

I am finding for the first time the jewelled display of my mind
slung open so all can find the relequaries.

A dim pre-birth impression of a clumsy outward expression:
Alta-Mira or Lasceaux. I see you standing on the shore
and you're waiting for your next to stop hurting this evening--
the lonely world turning its face away.

I am finding for the first time the jewelled display of my mind
slung open so all can find the relequaries of saintly birds
packed with lime they are so absurd, but they laugh because
they know we're gone.


The Blasted Heath
A cow died during the Winter.
It tried to walk on the ice
and feel part way through. Its hind and udders
stuck up like a wheelbarrow, greying,
and in the Spring it grew.

They built a machine that recognized
the sound as she turned the key
to the gates of Hell and
gives us a good look up
the bell of her dress.
It's a boring story I must confess--
every line sounds just like th one before,
sounds just like the one before.

Your mother's laying out your clothes
and your father's talking in his sleep.
Your feet are shaking in your hose
but you feel so much less than complete;
and you're listening to the Cure
but the tape breaks when you hit rewind,
and the everything that you are
is so much less. Now you will find
the Blasted Heath is alright!


Tonight! The Church Van
When they lock the door to the narthex I can't get to sleep
because the pillow fight by the fellowship hall is speaking out to me.

I will inch my sleeping bag a little closer to yours.

Every room is darkened and I'm telling a ghost story now
about a time I saw a small blue light run to you.

I will inch my sleeping bag a little closer to yours.

Go to the Ant You Lazy Bones
The toffee tree by the lake woke up too late
this morning to get anything done.
In a small house I crouch
in the corner and wait like I know I should.

Maybe the days are too long,
the longing is all gone,
but it's a terrible choice I have to make.
Maybe the hair is too long,
the cutting is all done
but I know with whom I want to pray

And take me away, a strawberry in my eyes.
When all the vegitables animate: I'm waiting.

Tree Full of Snakes
So we stop at the wax museum and 3-D haunted maze.
Fingers melting and Jefferson in a jumper:
At the story's end Christ's resurrection and Dolly Parton singing,
"Islands in the Stream."

In the dark hang some Day-Glo masks
and behind the counter the man is missing some teeth.
Oustside a sink is growing grass. To find our way
we cling together and at the EXIT sign a pale voice says, "Hello."




In Bardstown they don't give a shit--they're writing on the wall.
Sparkling bottles of TAVERN loll empty in the hall.

Heaven hold my little hand and pray for me tonight.
My academic team is leaving for the state meet.

And if it works out right I'll get to walk you home tonight
and if we're flush with luck we'll see a real bar fight.

Oh, my poor wife: you had to get off the bus
in the middle of the worst snowstorm that there ever was.
You climb down an embankment beneath the darkened sky.
The snow is gleaming but soon you're going to melt it.

And you wonder if you could just let go
but it's a brand new dress and a brand new coat.
You stick your arm out and climb into a Jeep
and on your way to class you learn all about Bombay.

Oh Register! Why Are You Crying?
Register is sleeping in the window sill. His little ears
are flicking silently. I wonder what he's dreaming
as the sun slowly moves across his back.

He's laying into my bare leg with a ferocity that's seldom seen
in Carrboro. He's be the best cat in the world this I know.

He's the best cat in the world--tell me that I'm wrong.

The Loud Half Hour
You've got a Washburn with a Locking Floyd Rose. I've got
a broken four track underneath a pile of dirty clothes.
Everybody is studying for the ECON mid-term but in my room
ahe Audition PLUS smells like it's about to burn

It's the loud half hour tonight.

My friend Rob just bought a brand new TKO and he said
he would loan us the floor tom for the school talent show.
I don't know how I feel about the fact that your father
says that we are his favorite local band.

It's the loud half hour tonight.

Green Refuge
Green refuge come back to me: these teeth so willing to eat.
Reedy fields call out my name. The ticks are so beautiful against your body.
A calamity of hollows and knolls--red trails and living bales.
Does the joke know it's not been told and if so does it feel lucky?

The dormitory of brand new ghosts. A craft still unlearned tonight!
A pale palm print against the window. "Let's sing together in the shower."

The comfort of machines offers no piece of mind
with their whirring and their clicking they are sadder than I
as they stare blankly and hope to find
a kind, loving God who will paint them a sign
saying, "This way, this way! Come with me tonight."
But in the pile of calculations on the floor we miss the light.

Thursday, July 08, 2004

Information on Films

Our show on September 11th will be at Oh La Latte in Durham. We will be playing with Gerty; Cantwell, Gomez and Jordan; and a special guest!

This show is part of the MS films Chicks Rock series. From their website:

What is Chicks Rock?
Chicks Rock is a series of concerts promoting local women rockers and benefitting the Ms. Films Festival. Chicks Rock will have shows during the summer and fall (and beyond?) featuring great local bands, and hold a day-long event in October that will include a band showcase and a day of DIY workshops (date & location TBA).

We wanted to do Chicks Rock as an ongoing series in order to: support women in the local music scene and encourage our community to support them, promote the Durham community, have all-ages shows as a way to encourage young women to follow their creative inspirations of all kinds and include them in a community that supports them, and promote gender-equality and respect to people of all ages and genders in the music scene.

We were inspired by our experience at Ladyfest Richmond, and by all the Ladyfests that have sprung up all over the world. We wanted to try something in the same vein, bringing music, arts, a DIY attitude, film, and good people together to celebrate and encourage women to join in.

We are grateful to the many bands and musicians who have enthusiastically offered their time and talent for this project and are inspired by their desire to support these goals and their dedication to create change in our commuinty!

Also thanks to the Chicks Rock Men's Auxiliary, man rockers who want to support Chicks Rock and Ms. Films. You will see them playing at shows -- be sure to give 'em a high five, too.

AP is honored and pleased to be part of the Men's Auxiliary.

Read more here and there.

Tuesday, July 06, 2004

The Savy Five

Hey, i heard audubon park was just like les savy five but with different people and music. Is this a post? or a comment with no post? it's my first time and I AM THE K STATION AND WELCOME TO ME!

A Peek Inside the World of AP

Recently overheard:

"You guys are just a funk band without matt and me. The best way to understand the sound of Audubon Park is the end of 'Tree Full of Snakes': shit's really boring and then Matt and I come in with counterpuntal decorations that draw it all together in a heretofore unexpected way..... ah congratulations lead instruments!"

Foxes run for cover as a storm approaches!

Monday, July 05, 2004


I am scared of lakes.

So scared.

But, romance.

The Future of Small Objects

It is my pleasure, as the automated system that manages this weblog, to tell you that AP's newest EP is now available. It is called:


You can buy one at CD Alley and maybe other places if I can get someone to put me in a shopping cart and take me around town. I am applying for a license to street vend--records and "snappin hot sausages." Wish me luck. Maybe next year I will incorporate.


Yes, the new EP has 4 songs, one of which is a cover of the Ghost of Rock's "Old Haunts" from last year's "Compulation." TGoR did the song right the first time, but AP couldn't resist. It is a good song--the kind that Paul Westerburg would write if Bob Stinson was still alive. As it stands, everytime it rains it is really BS crying tears of beer from his crushed velvet cloud in the sky. I'm sorry Bob, we let you down.

AP will be playing on September 11th (details still in the works) and on October 2nd at the Local 506 with Sorry About Dresden, Cold Sides and the Nein.

Later this fall AP will drop a third EP on slow moving children and elderlies: THE BUNNY IS NOT AS POPULAR AS JULIUS. It will be available on Baptistic Prant records, a historic Lexington, KY, label. Go to bornmugged for fewer details.

Also, thank you to Ms. Stockton for telling us what this is.

St. John Peeps, admin

Thursday, July 01, 2004


A forlorn boron if ever there was one.

If there is a robot more forlorn than this one, I would like to know about it.