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Garnish the wages of sin. I’ve worn the pants that you are in. What you’ve got is nothing [garbled]. You wear your throat upon your sleeve. You romance me with a pocket full of leaves. [Garbled] Masterpieces linger daily.
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Love is a mountain to climb where the air is so thin that you can never be sure you’re not losing your mind. And if you ever surmount it, you’ll wake up to find the warm one next to you cuddling into your side. She’s been there all the time.
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And I remember rippling water, in the distance, blinking ships. And someone mentioned taking off our clothes to take a midnight dip. No sooner said than your dress gone, I stood transfixed, I watched you strip. Again you ran for raging waters, you dove into the Atlantic.
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Thanks for the great performance in my dreams, for the scenes that you steal. It’s been delightful being on the same team. Your work’s so effortless and seems so real.
And if after the shoot, you disappear, withdraw from what upsets you, it’s a privilege you’ve earned in your career. None of us can hold that against you.
Last night you were so beautiful and cruel, I admit that I enjoyed it. I hope we’ll work together again very soon. I don’t think I can avoid it.
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I wanted to call you, baby, now, cause I want you to know that I’m burning, burning.
I’ve got a list of things to do, the first item on it is not calling you. It’s a hard thing, staring at a silent phone, knowing that both of us are all alone, but if I called, I promise, in under a minute we’d reach both of our limits, remember why we’re finished, and it’d turn. It would turn so fast past all the good intentions when I first punched out the digits. It would turn, till all I could say is baby, baby, baby, it still burns. It’s still burning.
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In Yanistin, that’s the way it goes.
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You asked me to reveal my identity, but first let me begin by telling you who I am not. I am not Arnold Maletanin, nor am I a man who goes by the name of Alfred Scott. I am you, I am you, I am you. And the earlier that you accept this, the better things will be for all of us. And now I want the band to play much faster. I want the band to play much faster and I will sing higher. (One, two, three, four.) That’s better, I can sing better this way. The other way was too low and it was too lugubrious. This is a nonstop party platter. This is a nonstop party platter.
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On summer nights, what do they call the song that drifts through my window? That whispers of the truest love of all? What do they call that song?
My bedroom light will burn till the dawn silences the trees, and I will still be dreaming of you and me. Sadie, what will you call this song?
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It took a week and a day to drink those twelve sodas. Now I think I want to get more. It took a week and a day to drink those twelve sodas. Guess it’s time to drag my ass to the store.
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42. |
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An obsessive, conceptual Powder to the People, this second fragment album hones the medium’s style to a jagged point on numbers that would eventually become "The Envelope Pushes Back," "Your Pretty Little Angels," "The Scheduled Show," and "(I Was a) Long Way from Home"—interspersed with a bunch of promising melodies, some underrated minisongs ("Burnin’, Burnin’," "Thanks for the Great Performance [In My Dreams]"), and a dictaphone’s chronicle of some shit seriously gone wrong.
Now available for download, and free download at that, after several years down in the wasteland.
released September 12, 2000
Tracks 2–5, 15, 19, 42, and portions of 25 and 29 were recorded between September 1998 and March 1999 at 2790 Broadway, New York, NY. Spoken portion of 42 was recorded at 52 Webster Avenue, New Rochelle, NY, October 1999. Track 1 was recorded at Katie Dutton’s home in Darien, CT, in January 2000. Songs 6–14 and 16–18 were recorded to four-track at 81 Cleveland Lane, Princeton, NJ, February and March 2000. Songs 20–26 and 28–43 were recorded there in July and August 2000. Song 27 was recorded on Sherman Street in Hartford, CT, in August 2000. Some song titles have been changed since the original album release.
