Splitsville

DAYJOB

Brandt: This song came out on tape better than I thought it would. It's a simple rocker with a lyric anybody can relate to.
Paul: Always a blast to play.

Now it's time to get the whole thing started
Shoes are polished and your hair is parted
Spent the weekend wondering
where the week went
Scheming up a better way to make rent

Eight straight hours stuck here pulling punches
Got no time for breakfast brown bag lunches
Can't fit dignity into your wallet
Can't buy piece of mind with empty pockets

I'm dreaming dreams so far away
I never knew the price I'd pay to not fade away

Still don't know just how the whole thing started
End up deep in debt and heavy-hearted
Spend a lifetime wondering where the weeks went
Gotta be a better way to make rent

Punch the clock
Then you make some overtime
It's a swindle it's a fraud
It's a living it's a life
Obligations
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I CONCENTRATE ON YOU

Matt: This is supposed to be like a psalm... an intense display of devotion. It was originally inspired by a short story I read as a kid about an American Indian brave, who is sent naked to a mountain as a rite of passage. His true love in the valley below lights a fire, which he focuses on to bring himself the inner warmth to survive the night. I find fanatacism of any sort both frightening and beautiful (see Joan of Arc), and hopefully this song captures both feelings. Incidently, the line "like her green light" refers to "The Great Gatsby" - read it and you'll understand the reference.
Paul: For you gearheads out there, those 80's analog synth sounds are Roland JX all the way. I felt just like a member of Human League.
Brandt: This was an especially tough song for me to play, but ultimately I think it turned out great.

Words I write down in black and white
Still cannot describe how I feel
My mind's on fire locked in overdrive
And there's only you at the wheel

My love like her green light
I concentrate on you
My love like Jesus Christ
I concentrate on you

I was a child schooled of Indian tribes
Countless braves have died just to prove
They could survive painful manhood rites
But my will to live comes from you

My love as darkness falls
I concentrate on you
My love the senses dull
I concentrate on you

(Try not to lose your focus)

Boom all right now we're back in flight
Caught without a kite or a clue
Like Orville Wright on his superglide
I'm a cannonball and a fool for love

An empire's lost
I concentrate on you
My love the TV's off
I concentrate on you

My love here in the dark
I feel my heart start beating at your pace
When we're apart I never stop believing
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MANNA

Matt: I stole a Gideon's bible from a hotel, apparently violating one of the ten commandments in the process. I had never read it, and I know a lot of people who quote from it who obviously have no clue what they are talking about. It inspired the lyrics to this song, which we had actually begun working on before we recorded Ultrasound. The arrangement was different until Brandt told me the song was missing something. He was right, and a week later I had the chorus.
Brandt: Typical Matt. Subtle.

We've got it made
Now where's the gravy?
But you go on and on about the world
Certain that the reason for it all is acceptable

It's all the rage
Our pretty faces
But you go on and on avoiding life
Deciding what is wrong and what is right

And you say you believe in love
But is that enough? Can it be all that matters?
You're searching for wonderstuff
Never aware there is a miracle in you

By now you know this thing is happening
Enjoy the show before it's over again

So you go on and on about the world
Pretending there's a reason for it all
Though it's laughable
How you go in and out believing lies
And looking for the halo over you head

And you say you believe in love
Well is that enough? Can it be all that matters?
You're searching for wonderstuff
Never aware there is a miracle in you
So celebrate what you want
And try to define something you'll
never understand
You say you believe in love
But it's just a word you've rendered meaningless
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BIG RED SUN

Paul: Splitsville's resident "concept man," Brandt, issued the dictum that Repeater should concern itself with the realities of adulthood. So I dutifully wrote this sad little tale of marriage gone sour. I think of it as a tribute to women everywhere who (like my own girlfriend) find themselves stuck with lazy, irresponsible daydreamers like me. (Production note: this one marks our first uses of Omnichord and electric 12-string, two personal faves.)
Brandt: Paul wrote the signature drum part, but I'll take the kudos.
Matt: Brandt and I had very little to do with this song creatively. Paul has definitely come into his own as a songwriter/arranger. Bastard.

She's left holding the reins
Sullen and embarrassed she
drives the bridal carriage now
She's gained only his name
And promises left rusting on suburban lawns
And from his chair he stares at walls
And withdraws into his dream-life

She has accepted her fate
Brokenly discarding a better homes & gardens
She heaves domesticity's weight
On bones that ache from shouldering the load alone
Cause she could never make a home in the world
Behind his dazed eyes

So she complains he never spent
A single minute in this world
Cause he prefers the one inside his head
And all the while he's never heard a word she's said

Here is the power of dreaming
And here is the lonely call "come home"
Dig me I'm a jet-fuel stunt-car
McQueen and Knievel and son all rolled into one
Big red sun imploding
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DOWNSIZING

Matt: Painful to write, painful to experience.
Paul: These lyrics are what they mean when they say, "pouring your heart out on the page." Beautiful words, great music. No credit to me whatsoever.
Brandt: A truly original song, I think.

I was thinking about the grass
And the state of my mental health
And a love that was almost real
Though I guess you can never tell

There's a cult we call family
And it's unstable at the core
And I know that I hate myself
But I think I might hate you more

When I thought I caught sight of you
And the memories flooded in
It felt like a suicide

But the key to survival
Is to leave gracelessly little wiser
Incomplete scared and beat down
Yet still free from bitter friends and tender rivals
Rest in peace
Cause I don't know where you're going but you're going down
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DIXIE LIQUOR AND BEER

Brandt: A liquor store where my friends and I bought kegs in college. Woke up with this song in my head and knew we had to do it, because the lyrics were so screwy. Thanks to our friends who helped sing backup on this one. Inspired by the Band (not REM believe it or not).
Matt: Certainly the most catchy tune on the album... if it doesn't make you happy, you haven't been drunk.

Yonder stands a man this man he's standing proud
I wonder where he's going wonder where he's been
Take me to the mountain top I'll shout it loud
Take me to the river I'll throw myself right in

All the beauty that surrounds me finds itself
Upon my kitchen table or in my kitchen sink
Found these words inscribed
upon my bathroom wall
"You can lead an ass to liquor
you cannot make him think"

I'm heading for that vinyl floor without a sound
I'm chicken little and the sky is falling down

Temper me with temperance and guide me toward
The path of higher living deliver me from gin
Take me to the top shelf where I'll find the truth
Salute the holy spirits when they come marching in
Dixie liquor and beer
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JOAN OF ARC

Matt: I was wasted one night in front of the TV, watching PBS of course, when a play on Joan of Arc came on. I had never known much about her, and I found it fascinating. A friend lent me his copy of Mark Twain's biography of her, which is a great read. I think of this song as a companion to the ideas expressed in I Concentrate On You and Manna.
Brandt: I love the waltz time signature and lyrical content.

Joan of Arc brave and smart
Blessed with the strength of conviction
Model of chastity genius of patriotism

(No matter which path we choose
Isn't it clear that we're bound to lose?)

Joan of Arc on a lark
Spurred by her curious visions
Rescued a spineless king
Sealing her fate for his freedom

(Lovely fanatical youth
Fragile and armored you're so damn cute)

Come let us join the parade
Celebrate our famous daughter
Thrill at the progress we've made
All that is left is to martyr her

Joan of Arc pure of heart
Burned at the stake for what reason?
Weak-minded men built her bonfire
As their catechism

(Now that the battle is through
It's back to the comfort of servitude
What do you want us to do?
Nobody's left here to save you)
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THE MASTER OF SPACE AND TIME

Matt: I wrote this at my dayjob. I was afraid I'd forget it before I got home. The ending part went through my head for months before we got to put it down. It almost drove me insane.
Paul: For me, the most enjoyable part of making an album is the overdubs, especially when I get to play an assortment of different instruments. This one takes the proverbial cake. With Matt handling piano, synth and 6-string, I got to play accordion, mandolin, harpsichord, 12-string, bass, synth and more synth. Very cool percussion from Brandt as well. And playing in time with that ticking clock was a lot harder than it sounds.

If I were the master of space and time
You and I would never die
It wouldn't be magic or make-believe
Just the need to never be apart

If physics were subject to my caprice
A kiss from you might last a week
And all the dark matter would be replaced
With brighter hues to suit you taste

And at zero hour the lights will fade
As souls return for judgement day
It's beautiful but understand
For you I'd start the world again
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THE FIRST THING ABOUT REGRET

Paul: Sure, I've had an evil girlfriend or two in my day (see Mr. Yuck...) Swiping liberally from all the Pixies, Guided by Voices and Catherine Wheel discs I was listening to at the time, this one continues a tradition (started by Brandt on Pet Soul) of borrowing and twisting lines from T. S. Eliot. I'll leave it to you to figure out just which lines they are. Lit Majors, get to it.
Brandt: The cowbell was all Paul's idea. So were the drums in the verse. He's got a great sense of what he wants rhythmically.
Matt: Another great Paul track. He hated the vocals, but we made him keep them. Ha Ha.

When nothing else remains but bruise and blame
Now begins the game
With you climbing to hide in your sophistry
And clever me calling "oxenfree"
Till you get caught at being you

You've got that look again withdrawn and spent
Such a pretty thing
When you slip into sack-cloth and ashen skin
Your frozen whim sprawling on a pin
When you get caught at being you

You don't even know the first thing about regret
I might even forgive you forget about forget
I'm checking my diary I think that I've heard this all before

You'll stay the way you've always been
You beautiful and selfish shit
You should have been a pair of pairs
Of ragged paws upon the doghouse floor
[top]

WHY IT CAN'T BE

Brandt: This one almost didn't make it because it was too GBW. I'm glad it did, though. I think the melody is very pretty and the arrangement is cool because Matt and Paul kept adding instruments. I pulled punches lyrically, because it was getting too close to home, but they turned out pretty well anyway.
Matt: I remember this as a candidate for Big Money Item. We were having a problem getting it to sound right until Paul came up with the idea of adding a piano part, which fleshed it out quite nicely.

Why can't it be just you and me?
It's all the same there's no-one left to blame
And nothing to change no loss no gains
We're left with the remains of what we made
Because you know and I know that you know

Nobody's right nobody's wrong
What does it take to get along?
An ear to censor what you say
An eye for hiding it away

Nobody's right nobody's wrong
Trying to get where we belong
We quit our personalities
And paved the way for apathy
And that's why it can't be
[top]

DUMB AND SATISFIED

Matt: A no-brainer I wrote while under the influence one night.
Paul: Another song for which I had to play cheerleader in order to get it on the album. That really is an answering machine you hear the last verse coming out of.

Throughout history the fix is in
This conspiracy to keep you dim
There's no master plan
Just an endless litany of bad advice

So we raise the kids on channel three
Unavailable commercial free
Who needs enemies?
All we want is freedom all we lack is pride

Uh-oh blame the alcohol
All that you believe it don't mean shit to me

Cause you phone it in and hope it works
I'm and idiot but you're the jerk
Who said "Face it man
If it don't come easy what's the use in trying?"
Dumb and satisfied
[top]

DOTCOM

Matt: We had been messing around with the bass riff Paul had written before we recorded Ultrasound. I originally sang "Come on take a ride the Mystery Machine," which is what the meddling kids from Scooby Doo rode. Brandt came up with the verse melody, and I fleshed out the lyrics. We were going to call it Splitsville.com, but we were afraid it was too heavy handed.
Brandt: I played this track on my Vistalite drum kit for a plastic sound.
Paul: A certain journalist accused me of stealing part of the opening bass and guitar lick from the Pixies' "Letter to Memphis." I say to you with all possible seriousness that this is the ONLY music I wrote for Repeater that DOES NOT steal a little from "Letter to Memphis." Buried in the outro section is a spoken monologue. Those of you with sophisticated enough EQ's just might be able to pick out what's being said.

A random group of 1s and 0s
The children of the digital
Come on take a ride be part of the machine
Turn on tune out plug in
Everybody wants to join the new regime

You have a friend in ray cathode
Now what's the use of radio?
Come on take a ride be part of the machine
Don't wear our patience thin
If you're not polite we'll wipe your memory clean
Come on come on won't you come on come on
Come on come on come over
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