The Singles - Season 6

by Kicksville

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    The Singles - Season 6 is a serial release, y'know, like a TV series. With a TV show, you can watch the episodes each week for free, and at the end of the season, you can buy a DVD with all the shows plus some bonus shite.
    With our "Season" releases, you can download a new song each week for free, and at the end of the season, the full-album download includes all the music plus a shiny new PDF with liner notes, each single's artwork, and bonus tracks.
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1.
03:23
2.
3.
4.
03:40
5.
6.
7.
05:26
8.
02:37
9.
04:38
10.
11.
12.
13.
03:29
14.

credits

released September 9, 2014

recorded and mixed at Kicksville Dept. of Works
engineered, edited, and mixed by Conrad St. Clair
additional recording at:
- Mastersuite, engineered by Jay Frigoletto
additional editing by Lou Caldarola
mastered by Jay Frigoletto at Mastersuite

The Players: Conrad St. Clair, Tone Deaf, Mike Stehr, Lou Caldarola, Beaker Parpovich, Chris Huntington, Biff Blumfumgagnge, Aaron Williams, Beth Kille, Aya Peard, Matt Manske, Mark Thorpe, Andy Ewen, Jay Frigoletto, Buzz Kemper, Geoff Brady, Kia Karlen, Bala Harper, Randal Harrison, Briana Hardyman, Jill Krynicki Dutcher, Alex Brick, Tani Diakite, Ankur Malhotra, Denise St. Clair, Rob Queen, Randy Tilk, Mamadou Diallo

The Artists: Rayne Wissman, Andy Ewen, John Sarris, Bruce Hellington, Tone Deaf, Patrick Wachtl, Skinny Gaviar, Jill Krynicki Dutcher, Kristie Lee, Oddist Jones, Ally Queen, Conrad St. Clair

all songs written by Kicksville (Dept. of Publishing/BMI)
c/p 2014 Kicksville Dept. of Records
produced by Kicksville

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about

Kicksville Madison, Wisconsin

There's really no explaining Kicksville, but fear not! All the music is FREE, so have at it. Then, go visit www.kicksville.com and see what we're all about. Or, visit www.youtube.com/kicksvillevideo and give your eyeballs a treat. Enjoy!

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Track Name: Love Song
Needing a thing
to take out the sting,
keeping the hope that it may.
Swearing the latter,
not mad as a hatter,
but something to fill out the day.
Could be a tipple
to barrel from nipple,
or maybe just spark up a jay.
Stomp on some flowers
to kill a few hours,
willing the long minutes away.
Without you
there's nothing to do,
when will you get here to stay?

We'll go to the shops,
freak out the cops,
and see if they want to come play.
Run in tight places,
make piggy faces,
just to see what they say.
Dreaming of past,
proud that at last,
love is the cloud where we lay.
Love is the cloud where we lay.
Death is the spike where we may....
Track Name: Nameless Jack
Nameless Jack walking down the street
Nameless Jack walking down the street
Nameless Jack walking down the street
And the blackbirds circle at a height of 20 feet

Faster and faster around and around
Faster and faster round and around
Faster and faster round and around
And Nameless Jack is lifted from the ground

In this fine feathered circle Jack is elated
In this fine feathered circle Jack is elated
In this fine feathered circle jerk Jack is elated
He finally finds himself the hub of the wheel to which he's mated

Around and around the wheel spins out of sight
Around and around the wheel spins out of sight
Around and around the wheel spins out of sight
And Nameless Jack gently disappears into that good night
Track Name: Bread Knife Bill
When Bread Knife Bill comes to stay,
even the birds fly off for the day.
Better to go deaf than see in Bill's mind,
it was prickly and hard yet somehow fur-lined.
Eat up all your drink, give the wife a quick wink,
then stumble off to pass out in the downstairs sink

The very next day, foul odors pervade.
It seems that Bill's funk will never fade.
He slimes like a slug where ever he be,
glows in the dark with eyes that can see.
Another clean spot that needs drenched in his piss,
I wish he'd find another place than this

Seems Bread Knife is here to stay,
shows no sign of going away.
There's empty bottles and crying wife,
bits of sick to pepper this strife.
Zigzag trails of piss on the floor,
I sure wish he wouldn't come around here no more

Empty fridge and overflow trash,
slime on the ceiling, and missing weed stash,
silhouette of dog-ends in the shape of that twat,
with a steaming pile of what Bill just shat.
No garden pots that lack in his pee,
I wish he'd find another friend than me

Still to this day that damn Bill ain't gone,
screamin' and yellin' to finish his song.
Try as I might to scribble a tune,
the words don't come a moment too soon.
So Bread Knife Bill will never leave,
in madness I'll die first, I do believe
Track Name: Pretty
I. Icicle Breath Chortle
(I could have been anyone)
icicle breath chortle, taking a piss
some tropical poison best given a miss
knickers on line, ass over tip
dated milk globules, and nowhere to sick

singing and dancing and laughing all day
don't be a bummer love, it only gets in the way

(my eyes have seen reflections of you in me)
blue-eyed sunshine came out today,
with all god's children, both brilliant and gay
there's love all around us, happiness bliss
no need for no more, there's no better than this

singing and dancing and laughing all day
don't be a bummer love, it only gets in the way

II. Stravinsky Wrote The Soundtrack
snow scene
quiet city night
white permeates
hell takes a break
rats hop like bunnies
zig zag across alleys
past masses huddled
with oil drum fire
sipping tea and whiskey
a helping hand
to pass the time
then slip away
Track Name: I Am Your Art
Color this life whatever you see
Your fear and your foibles is all that I'll be
Some in the lines, some slash about
Ripping the paper, rubbing me out

Pour out your soul, give me your feelings
Or just stare at the wall or spit at the ceilings
I am your art
What are you afraid of?
Why don't you show me?
I am your art

Chalk, ink or mud, heroin and blood
Paint, doubt and stout, due bills and a bud
Brushes gone hard and we've run out of glue
Drinking the time, thinking fuck all to do

Canvas with stick from the brain to the finger
Or sit at a bar just letting me linger
I am your art
Why don't you show me?
With adhesive comes responsibility...
I am your art

[I mean it's been months, the brushes are all hard and kinda purple-y gray, and all the water's evaporated...the turpentine's all used up...I don't know what was in that coffee cup...and still you haven't put another coat on me in oh, oh so long...and there you go picking up your keys again and heading out that door, down to the bar...five martinis, six beers, and a shot...stumbling back trying to find that keyhole again with that key...guess you're sleeping in the gutter. And I'm just sitting here collecting dust.]
Track Name: Beaufort Tides
Low tide.
The scavenging gulls
scour the reaches of mud.
No slavers ride
at anchor in the roads. Rotting hulls
are drawn up on the shore.

Full stood
the tide here
when through this colonnaded door
into the raw land passed bond and free,
the one in hope leading the other in fear,
chained each to each by destiny.

Not only tide
but time and blood
can turn, can ebb and flow.
Time ebbs, blood flows, the fear
shows in the master's eye while jubilee
bursts from the bondsman's throat.

Now
no shout
rings out.
Neither hopes. Both fear.
What future tide will free
these captives of their history?
Track Name: Meanwhile
out back by the old saw mill
were the metal bangers go deaf
in time
sirens wail jittery warbles
as a dog's howl accompanies the din
inharmonious
all lubricated by large gulps
of heavy red rust
a simple base
thick with vine
and creepy crawlers
yet to be catalogued

night things spit and hiss bile
gleefully
while leaves strip trees
make threatening gestures
to amuse one another
and frighten the day critters
huddled in a hollow
hiding harrowed till dawn
lightning and rain play strobe art
flickering branches
and reflecting of eyes

to some the primal drones beckon
the “bizz” just mutter and cringe
run him to city center
because this is the lunatic fringe
sending the piggy a quiver
back to his moonlit bog
remember y'all, we love bacon
and he is a fat little hog
Track Name: Mommy
Left me sitting by myself
You've left me on my own
Left me with your fears and hate
You've left me with no 'ome

Family that I never knew
No-one will ever fill
The vacant space that mommy left
That totaled up to nil

This damn life I've searched for her
In everyone I meet
But none have ever satisfied
Like her, have beat their feet

Taught me not the art of love
To question all kind acts
And now I'm planning suicide
Or murder with an axe

Mommy, mommy
Where are you now?
Pushing up daisies
Or being a cow?
Track Name: Monkey Man
*written by Toots Hibbert, arranged by Kicksville
Track Name: 10 Inch Record
tip-toeing through the hi-fi fidelity
woofers and tweeters are nipping at heel
spindle thrust snugly through two-sided platter
twisting the knob for tone and control

dodging the needle at every rotation
trying not to trip on a groove
missing that arm with taut timed attention
trumpet triumphs this impending doom

slipping and sliding 'round thin vinyl edges
action unfolds in breathless sweat
then comes the fall all have predicted
one hell of a landing, spectacular splat

power tubes hum with quiet contentment
two-track half-inch squeals with delight
AM and FM broadcast proceedings
music now over, he turned off my light

music now over, he turned off the light
Track Name: Teenagers On Drugs
2013
At first glance, my 11-year-old son, Johnny, seems like your everyday, all-American kid. He loves baseball and basketball, plays Xbox with his friends, and posts innocuous pictures of the family dog. You can imagine my surprise when he asked me, "If pot is so bad, why are they trying to legalize it?"

Neither my wife nor I anticipated that our son would be stopped on the street by unscrupulous potheads and fed a line of rhetoric.

It turns out that potheads weren't exactly the problem; they were the symptom. The problem is that we are even considering legalizing marijuana at all.

Why are some people so passionate about legalizing marijuana? Because when you smoke pot, you get loaded. You fry your brain. That's why they call it "getting baked." Pot is all about getting really high.

Now, I have nothing against people who smoke pot. Honestly. But introducing legalized marijuana into our culture would be like using gasoline to put out a fire.

Do you know why we don't see potheads out in public? It's because they're sitting at home smoking weed, staring at their television sets, or playing video games all day. They talk about wanting to be productive, but pot kills their motivation. It destroys people's ability to go out have a career.

Is that what you would want for your children?
Is that what you would want for your loved ones?

We're not stupid enough to believe the lie - we know too much. The very idea of legalizing The Evil Demon Weed sickens me.

I know what it does to the human mind - it literally robbed me of my motivation to participate in my own life. I was absolutely OK with sitting around all day eating cookies, watching television and getting high. Go out and earn a living??? That was all stuff that I was going to do later after I came down off of The Marijuana. But, then I'd smoke some more and think, "Why bother?"

Eventually, of course, I started shooting heroin. If my family had not intervened, I would still be wandering aimlessly through the streets, searching for that elusive "perfect high."

Even if one only stays with marijuana in his repertoire of illicit drugs to abuse, it will never yield positive results.

Ever.

Are potheads really that weak? Are they really that uncomfortable that they can't handle having real experiences without being high? Because if it is, it breaks my heart and I feel sorry for them. Because that's no way to live.

Little Johnny is going to know the truth about them. He's going to know that they will spend the rest of their lives half-baked on the sofa, too stoned to go out and play, or do the things they've always dreamed of doing. To Johnny, this means one less competitor on his road to a successful and fulfilling life.

And, to the potheads who are so passionate about being allowed to smoke their lives away, I have only one thing to say: Dream on.

1962
You're in outer space. You're Superman. You're floating in air, seeing double, riding next to God. It's Kicksville. Are these the fantasies of narcotics addicts on smack? No. More disturbingly, these hopped-up reactions are those of teenagers hooked on goofballs, airplane glue, and marijuana.
Track Name: Black Rotten Sheep Apple
Funny to watch you stressing the bills
By demanding more money I'll add to your ills
I complain of exclusion when we go out
Loud proclamations of how you're a lout
You're boring, you're stupid, you're mean and a canker
Sell all your treasures and call you a wanker
Sick of your presence under my feet
Give me your money now out on the street

I wanna get pissed
Throw up on me shoes
Whizz in me booze
Hit by a wall and fall down

Tragically hopeless and wasted today
Creeping and lurking like dirty old strays
Slurping and sloppy like Father O'Shea
We're drinking our troubles away - hooray!

I wanna get pissed
Drive real fast
For as long as it last
Hit by a wall and fall down

Tragically hopeless and wasted today
Creeping and lurking like dirty old strays
Slurping and sloppy like Father O'Shea
We're drinking our troubles away - hooray!

No phone, no wallet, no coat, no shoes
Into the outside feeling the blues
Happy you're gone, but freaking on bills
The newspaper said I OD'd on red pills

What made you want to live this way
You give and you love, I push and I shove
Day after day after day after day after day after fucking day

Tragically hopeless and wasted today
Creeping and lurking like dirty old strays
Slurping and sloppy like Father O'Shea
We're drinking our troubles away - hooray!

I wanna get pissed
Out pickin' a fight
E.R. 'fore light
Hit by a wall and fall down

Tragically hopeless and wasted today
Creeping and lurking like dirty old strays
Slurping and sloppy like Father O'Shea
We're drinking our troubles away - shazoo!

I wanna get pissed
End all the fun
Pay for what's done
Hit by a wall and fall down

Tragically hopeless and wasted today
Creeping and lurking like dirty old strays
Slurping and sloppy like Father O'Shea
They're coming to take me away - ha ha!