The Goddamn Band Album

by The Goddamn Band

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1.
04:24
2.
04:30
3.
03:50
4.
5.
05:09
6.
7.
8.
02:29
9.
02:16
10.

credits

released June 8, 2014

Recorded in KLC Studios at Lewis and Clark College
Engineered by Alec Speckenbach and Nick Pimentel
Mixed by Jesse James Robertson
All songs written by The Goddamn Band
All lyrics written by Nick Pimentel

The Goddamn Band, this time, was:

Leif Christiansen on Bass
Claire Hinkley on Violin and Voice
Brendy Hale on Drums
Alec Speckenbach on Saxophone
Nick Pimentel on Guitar and Voice

www.thegoddamnband.com

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about

The Goddamn Band Portland, Oregon

The Goddamn Band is, well, a band.

Kinda jazzy rock.

West America.

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Track Name: Burnt Lip
Took too long a hit and I burnt my lip
Two hands on the hips ain’t boy’s business
“I’m not ashamed of the games that I play” she said
Something’s apparent in all subtle ways

Love can exist it’s the simplest of tricks
On the doubtful days don’t question it
Surround your person with beautiful friends
Around the table we’re glorious men

We all wanted sun for the warmth it would bring
Our tattered, expectant thoughts brought on by the principle of Spring

You were a youth you were a supple gown
So tentative, seldom around
I was an impulse like my father’s gun
Shooting leaves as they fell to the ground
I’ve found

I’d rather be widowed than killed by your leave
There is so much to to be said about drowning things
Ignore your troubles with copious drugs
She said, “my other cheek compensates for your lack of love”

I’ll never get high if I burn both ends
Guess that wanting it all his its consequence
Know I’ll be happy with beautiful friends
We’re soon to grow into glorious men
Track Name: Dress It Up
I was so sure
she’d grow weary of me
I was so sure

I have an unordinary amount of energy inside of me
but, then again, she tends to fiddle with most everything
that she can get her hands on

Well, she should get her hands on me
She should get her hands on me

So, should we
keep this as it is
or make it more impressive?

Dress it up in something so festive it can hardly breath
At the party we’ll part ways, she will mingle with the company,
and then we’ll reconvene

She will put her hands on me
She will put her hands on me
Track Name: Her Highways
She takes so much pride in her
Her knowledge of highways
She drives them
She drives them with her friends

Every city and skyline they drive by
Reminds them of pear shapes and waist lines
We waste time
Wondering if this is alright

You know, the Golden Gate’s right out of town
That is, if you’re around
I could drive you up
Then drive you back down, if you’re around

She wears a scarf around her head
Like my grandmother did, as the cancer just hid
Somewhere in her breast
In her breast, and it left her dead
Track Name: How's Our Fashion?
When they took your picture
You raised your brow on the right
Not sure if it could properly show life

Is my fashion too much or not enough
like everybody else?
Have I just spent too much time by myself?

We’re so inconsequential
Too many humans to place blame
I just want my son to know my name

Hope this generation
can save face, you know,
History has such standards of taste

Neither the place nor the time
Besides, we’re not in the right mind
We feel alone but we share lack of light

That’s how it goes in the nighttime,
you know, everybody’s blind,
Your right in front of me but out of sight
Track Name: I'm Tempted
I tried all her limbs on for size
I kissed and bit every inch not clothed
Now and again she would open her eyes, and we spoke,
"I haven’t had a tongue in my ear in over a year"

Give it to me, I need immunity
I’m so impressed with these women so infested with germs
I used to get so hung up on that feeling of birth when introduced to the earth
I must have been so young to suffer then, knowing that it would end

I tried all her limbs on for size
I need to make sure I got exactly what I payed for
Having shared her bed, I’m confident, but I will keep all my wits
I had grown so used to skating on thin ice, I thought that that was life
Track Name: Looks Like Seattle
Cars startle gravel in the drive
as if they had someplace to go

He takes the ink and sets to think of a home,
someplace like San Francisco

The skyline is written on his arm
He can see it when this town has lost its charm

His hand’s still scarred, it’s clear, from last year
When he tried to impress

Filled a cup up with pills for a woman
Already undressed

The rosary dangles from her palm
She don’t believe in God but it makes her feel calm

And she says, “Hey, I know what’s going on,
But still I’d like a carpenter of a kid”
He says, “Hey, come here baby,
We will make a skyline of your hips”

And she says, “Hey, I know what’s going on,
But still I’d like a carpenter of a kid”
He says, “Hey, come here baby,
We will make a skyline of your hips”

He says,
"Hey, come here, baby,
we will make a skyline of your hips"

"Hey, come here, baby,
we will make a skyline of your hips"
Track Name: Picture On A Napkin
Is it safe to say that you went away
When I know that you just left
The sentiment of a foregone friend
Though it pains us we must accept

The passing tide of a knot untied
Inspires questions of length of life
Euphemisms explain bad decisions
Why do we do what we do?

Just then you were gone
Like a star that’s been stared at too long
Or the picture on a napkin you drew
While we were waiting for our food

Then it all went straight out the door
Just like Kristina on the forest floor
A moment she’d not soon forget
It’s that important

Is it safe to say that you passed away
When I know that you just died
The tipped chair left beneath your lack of breath
You hung yourself in this park

The only silence besides, well, implied violence
Was your heart, was your heart, was your heart

Just then you were gone
Like a star that’s been stared at too long
Or the picture on a napkin you drew
While we were waiting for our food

Then it all went straight out the door
Just like Kristina on the forest floor
A moment she’d not soon forget
It’s that important
Track Name: 39
39 takes me where I need to be, between
cartons of cigarettes and gallons of gasoline

Riding the line to the downtown, allows us small boys
to feel so grown up with fistfuls of adult stuff

In the coffee shop, you tore the filter off your cigarette
Tobacco set to flame, what’s your name? What is your name?

Sip dose of caffeine, Charles Bukowski could not care less
Express disinterest in this drawn out process of age

The table beneath your book’s disabled, it needs a lift
New York Times beneath the leg, it’s now stable for the day
Track Name: This Jockey
I hope this jockey knows what’s best
It’s been fifteen laps of unbearable stress
I’ve got a dime or two I’m not prepared to lose
I changed some plans to have you

I’m quite convinced that we will place
She feels so free to eat off of my plate
She stripped her nails of paint because she heard my taste
She said I want you to have your way

When I crossed the line
I'm draped in years of being neither here nor there
Ya, this surely calls for a toast
I know a place off Tennessee and Oak

She made no reservation but I sat her at a table
This girl will know no waiting
This girl will know no waiting

I spit my sip back in to my ceramic cup
When she says such brilliant stuff
And then we take turns cracking up
Track Name: Retired Racehorse
That dress, yes that dress, it makes you
Look so hard to talk to
Her fucks were few and far between
So she moved to the country
Wanted a man with some ugly teeth
Why not me?

I’ll be a racehorse in my second life, retired
Here’s your pasture, we appreciate your tenure
Seems all I do is wait for some kind of savior
As I grow, hope to abandon that behavior

Scantily clad, so apropos
Got a cowboy hat and too long a rope
She’ll come home soon, I hope

I want a face I can understand
A girl that’ll treat me like the one man
She’d been searching for for a while