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Music For No Reason

by Ryan Wasoba

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1.
I wrote a book It's a book of clichés Each page grows more relevant every day How could there possibly be any more Words left that no one's put together before? I took a look A good look at my face Bruised, beaten, my features so far out of place Dollar bin knockoffs of Picasso prints There's no abstraction for the accurate I wish that I could keep my head above my heels But I can't stop digging To bury my ears in the ground where I can hear All the wagons approaching I guess that this is how having a conscience feels: There's a big white van With a satellite dish That is park right in front of my heart tonight I wrote a song It was slow and long I wrote all the words and the music wrong That's something someone else wrote Note for note I wrote a book Wrote a screenplay, wrote an opera Wrote a concept album but then I shelved them all Because I labored and labored but I couldn't make them Any more than just a shell of what I wanted them to be God, I hope you never have to feel the same Like the worst is impending Struggling just to make your lyrics rhyme again Always fudging the ending I hate the sound my body makes when it can't sleep It's like a big white man Hiding under my bed With a microphone and he's sending out a signal to The big white van With a satellite dish That is parked right in front of my heart tonight And every beat is a beep of fluorescent green On the monitor screens inside Now I never wait for the phone to ring No, I'm just waiting for my phone to get disconnected Penalized for my sins Ostracized from the grid And eulogizing my water, sewer, trash, electric Now the furnace is a freezer and the cold is biting Now the furnace is a freezer and the cold has teeth So I burn every single thing that I ever created Just to warm up my body and my hands by the heat But if a spark jumps out, if it lands in the house And it if spreads to the curtains and I can't put it out If I'm trapped in the attic and I'm screaming for help Would the neighbors call the cops? Would they just sit and watch? And if the hoses and extinguishers and hydrants don't work Would it be karmic retribution for the people I've hurt? Because I labored and labored but I couldn't make myself Any more than just a shell of who I wanted to be Now my hands are tired And my skin is cracked And I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back My bones are tired And my joints are cracked And I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back My tongue is tired And my lips are crackedAnd I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back And I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back The floor's on fire And the plaster's cracked And I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back I don't think I'm gonna get my damage deposit back
2.
Did you know that you're an architect? The mastermind of a landmark to erect A thousand business cards stacked proudly on your desk I bring you coffee, massage your lower neck I'm the intern and you're the internet You're eternal, I'm eternally in debt. I have dreams that I'm locked inside your trunk It's cold and dark with the constant kicking thump Of your car stereo blaring funk songs about funk When you free me, I'm savoring the air With strands of duct tape still streaming from my hair I scream, "Let's crash the prom, let's crash the science fair." So we made a volcano Out of vinegar and baking soda And it blew up, so we threw up our hands And danced in the moonlight halo And we tried to keep the night to Ourselves, oh how selfish of us If we did, then the sun wouldn't come up And all the plants and the trees wouldn't grow up So we had to let them die I've never been a vegetarian I've never battled the sword against the pen I've never seen Titanic Don't tell me how it ends Because I have dreams of a ship that never sunk Passengers dancing in the auditorium And while the band played on They're playing funk songs about funk Give me slap bass and a steady pace All the prerequisites to save face From the gravity that is tragically Pulling my feet planted in the same place We can try to keep the light to Ourselves oh how naive of us How could we be so oblivious? When speakers blow and strings rust And all living things become dust So let's all hold hands and discuss What the good reverend James Brown taught us May every drum fill fill us With a pure percolating persistence With the courage and with the defiance To ignore all those who try to tell us That our dreams are the things that will kill us That our dreams are the things that will kill us That our dreams are the things that will kill us If we don't just let them die Did you know that you're a metaphor? For present future, and everything before And I'm the castaway who washed up on your shore
3.
Blythe, California, is a broken place At the far eastern corner of a broken state And if you weren't born in Blythe, California Then you only end up there by mistake. Because there's a magnetic field at the edge of the town That forces all of the cars on the highway to break down And the people like comfortably from mechanic and towing fees And I hear they have a Starbucks now Somewhere in Phoenix or in San Diego There's a venue that is dealing with a broken show Because the scheduled van is in a broken down van That's overheating in Blythe by the side of the road There are places you want to be and some places you don't And there are places you hate, but when you get there you know That if it weren't for places like Blythe, California Then where would all the broken things go?
4.
I stumbled across words of love and loss Fighting for air in the radio static A man sang a song He said his thrill was gone I couldn't quite feel sympathetic Because I've never been thrilled, captivated, or chilled I try, I end up so empty I turned off the dial, sat in silence for a while Because the blues, they mean nothing to me I had to get fixed or at least get my fix So I saw my old family physician I said, "Doctor, your patient is vapid and vacant. Please give me your strongest prescription." He said, "All the world's pills won't leave you fulfilled I'm a doctor, I'm not a magician." Then he ripped out a note from the pad in his hand And scribbled words illegibly And I couldn't read it but I'm sure that I need it Because the blues, they mean nothing to me I called the pharmacy, they put me on hold To the voice of a sad southern singer She moaned and she growled She howled so loud she maxed out my poor telephone speaker And I craved an epiphany but it just didn't happen to me The pharmacist picked up the receiver And I hadn't been made a believer So I went to a festival down on the riverfront Sponsored by a radio station I was fenced in by signs, each one advertised For a beverage supply corporation And the band sang its rage on a hundred foot stage Through a ten thousand watt P.A. system I guess the first line was nice, because the band played it twice. The third line wrapped up so neatly The audience cheered and drank nine dollar beers And the blues still meant nothing to me So I tried my guitar and tried desperately hard To play with some kind of conviction But it was science, not art All head and no heart It was emotional exploitation And I'm reminded of a man with magical hands Who traded his soul off to satan And I wonder how much a soul goes for now When you factor in depreciation All the devil can afford is twelve bars and three chords It must be the economy Demonic possession can't withstand a recession And the blues still mean nothing to me I wish I could say what I'm needing to say Just by moaning and bending a string But my voice is a joke and my strings are all broke Oh, if I could say what I'm needing to say Would anyone be listening? When each verse and each chorus falls like trees in the forest Oh, if I could say what I'm needing to say Would the words even mean anything? If the blues mean nothing to me? The blues mean nothing to me.
5.
Ants! 03:24
We've got ants in the corner Of the bedroom where the nightstand stood They're crawling up through the floorboard Through the molding, through the cracks in the wood I know they want to march to the kitchen To swarm on something sweet, to pounce like a gang So we suck them up in our vacuum hose attachment It isn't humane but they do not die in vain I hope this sends a message to your entire colony I hope this sends a message to your queen We've got moles in the garden Digging tunnels down in the dirt We must make them stop, must make them disappear Even if it kills them, even if it makes them hurt Excuse me for being curt But I hope this sends a message to your entire mole populace I hope this puts you in your place As long as I don't see a panther As long as I don't see a bear I've got my place at the top of the food chain And I like it there We've got flies flying around us Landing in our food, swimming in our drinks So we made a trap of apple cider vinegar And flush their dead, lifeless bodies down the sink I hope your friend and family flies heed this as a warning I hope they've all skipped town by the morning As long as my two eyes don't meet up With a prowling Siberian's stare I've got my place at the top of the food chain And I like it there I've got hands They're not the biggest hands, but I've seen smaller hands I suppose they're pretty good sized hands I've got thumbs Yes, opposable thumbs I've seen cats with thumbs But they're not like these kind of thumbs And I've got logic and language to use to my advantage To tell all these inferior species not to inconvenience The man with the thumbs on his hand because this land It is simply just not your land As long as I don't see an eagle As long as I don't see a bear I've got my place at the top of the food chain And I like it there As long as sharks don't emerge from the water To walk through our land and breathe our air I've got my place at the top of the food chain And I like it there

about

Tracks 1, 2, 4, and 5 were originally posted in conjunction with my "Livin' The Dream" column for the now-defunct San Francisco-based music magazine Crawdaddy.

Track 3 was recorded the day this album was put online.

credits

released June 25, 2012

Jerry Mazzuca played drums on tracks 1 and 2.

Track 5 was co-written by Megan Bryden-Wasoba, who also took the cover photos.

All other sounds were written, performed, recorded, mixed, and mastered by Ryan Wasoba at Bird Cloud Studio.

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about

Ryan Wasoba Edwardsville, Illinois

musician
producer
engineer
microinfluencer
Tetris enthusiast

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