Jon's Birthday #30

by A bit Much

Jon's Birthday #30 cover art
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about

An elegy to the slouching hobble of aging. It makes you take your clothes off and go dancing in the formaldehyde!

credits

released 17 June 2011
Dough-boy Degan III - vocals, electric guitars, synthesizer
Abram Taber - electric bass, upright bass, timpani, cymbals
Jon Glancy - Eames drums and fine Turkish cymbals, Nasstoy
Morgan Evans-Weiler - violin
Beth Holub - viola
Cherry Kim - cello
Clicks Onahog Smith - quahogs
Ted Roland - clarinet
Bryan Murphy - trumpet
Seth Bailin - tenor saxophone
Frank Casados - bassoon
Jeff Palermo - trombone
Susan Putnins - ukulele

Horn arrangements by Clinton Degan and Abram Taber.

String arrangements by Abram Taber.

Engineered by Patrick Belken, Seth Bailin, Clinton Degan, and Abram Taber.

Mixed by Patrick Belken (thezookeepersband.bandcamp.com)

Mastered by Nick Zampiello and Rob Gonnella at New Alliance East (www.newallianceeast.com)

Artwork by Brian R. Hart (www.thebrianhart.com)

Special thanks to Matt Lillis, Matt Studivan, Bob and Michele Glancy, Joseph G. Shea, Ethan Costello, Olivia Close, Kathy Liao, Steve Theo & Canada at Pirate Promotions (www.piratepirate.com), Tim Lillis, Al Polk, and to the lovely players and friends who made this all so probable.

Listen to our illustrious label mates or suffer infinite deaths at the hands of our private detective army: (www.polkrecords.org)

tags

tags: pop power pop robert fripp rock rock and roll soul star trek ageism dixieland king crimson rock swing Boston

license

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about

Rock 'n' Roll is not dead.

No, my friends, it's just approaching that time of life appallingly similar to death: middle age. And A bit Much is Rock 'n' Roll's mid-life crisis.

discography

contact / help

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Track Name: You're Too Old
And so you made your great escape
From womb light to vaccination
You were the hit of the summer
And every year this day
We set pastries aflame and
Honor every wish that you utter
Remember how then came to now
You used to sleep so smugly
Soiling yourself at will and when you wake
Pull legs off your sisters and tell flies that they're dumb and ugly

You wish that you could tell yourself now
That it's more than just a practiced memory
Too old to say what you like
And too young to know what you mean

I guess we'll leave you in a home
Once you've reached your expiration
Sell off the ranch and the Hummer
And every year this day
The children choke patterned nooses and
Honor your belligerent sputter
The orderly's endowed and you tell her how
She can be best to your service
Soiling yourself at will and when we come
You flummox us for fun, you have a license to disturb us

You'll be allowed any thought you can mouth
Even when the pickings are lean, but now you're
Too young to say what you like
And too old to say what you mean

You wanna imbibe this sawdust life
With some cleaner kind of water
But your throat is drier than your casual attire
And the sands of Land's End's in your motor
You can't decide if you should turn or brake harder

This is your very special day
Please send me the check when
You've had your fill of the bourbon
I made you paper-mache
Take this commemorative plate and -
Why do you look so uncertain?
I hope you like all your consolation prizes
I quite admire this edition
Why for almost thirty years you've survived
You can't stand it, but you still do a mean fetal position

The post-hypnotic suggestion's cum traumatic
You think you took a bullet in the spleen
Too old to know what you like
And too young to know what it means
Track Name: You're Just A Baby, Darlin'
You're just a baby, darlin'
In a bassinet of baby-blue
Please don't let yourself get into thinkin'
'Bout other than that mobile over you

Your Daddy told you double knot your laces
Then disappeared into that horrid gloom
And Mommy's now a guest aboard a saucer on a non-stop course
Towards a station over Rigel 2

You're just a baby, darlin'
So everything's impossible to do
You're just a baby, you're just a baby
With no one there to take good care of you

You're being followed by a van through a parking lot
There's a hand of Reese's Pieces being offered ad hoc
You scram, the cam is jamming the petroleum for a maddening man
You hear him wheezing through the breeze into a deep ravine
So you scuttle up the bank into a different scene
Three pigs, two social workers, Uncle Sam, and then a dentist or two: on you!

You can't smoke 'cause you can't depress the lighter
You can't cook 'cause you cannot reach the stove
You can't open the Neurocrine or Pfizer
But what you'd do with those God only knows

Don't let me words get caught amongst your braces
In February I'll be 32
You're just a baby, so please don't blame me
If I'm too old to ever marry you
You're just a baby, you're just a baby
With no one there to take good care of you