"Live From Hyde Park EP"
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11. Eight Days A Week
12. I'm Still Holdin', Holdin' Something
1. Eight Days a Week
No one in particular, till I met this little girl.
'Chicken Little', pick of the litter, and especial good with the letters.
Tears were unfettered sometimes, the way she wrote some of her rhymes.
And how she would contemplate was great.
Lovin' was late but at least it was comin'.
Summon up somethin' with a word that was undone in a second;
Forgot to reckon with the feelings she's having.
Collaborate under one banner? Impossible.
Time was test, the weight colossal.
Pull some charity shit, just like a hostel.
Straight geeked out; sweet like an apostle.
Yo, you're just like a dram of 'goddamn!'
Good to a man in a way unknown in this day and age of fear.
Sage is near, advice. How nice!
Resonance imaging; stripping. Tripping out constantly.
Infatuation...Responsib’l’ies left up to others.
My brothers is bothered, but I look to be a father so I cannot front on this...
2. I’m Still Holdin', Holdin' Somethin'
[the lyrics for this song were freestyled i.e. created extemporaneously impromptu]
I have problems with...
...psychological equivalent of cowards leaving behind...
Appropriate, never known...
"Would someone please open up the door to my home?"
The rat sneaked out, peeked his nose out, looked at me, sniffed.
Appropriately I said, "You missed me. I'm a c-a-t. I pounce on ye."
He says: Run back in the hole, slammed the door real quick. Caught my claw in it.
"Ow!" I yelled, uncomfortable. "Ow!"
That was stuck; caught in the wood-grain opposite of my fingernail.
I complained of the pain. "Ow!, I say again."
Knock on the door with the other hand. Rat nose sneaks out again.
I say, "Please let me go!" He says, "Not yet. The yin has not yet been met by the yang."
I'm like, "Please stop with this nonsense notion you picked up at Orange Julius in the bottom of your floaty syrupy,
something showed me, Orange and Mandarin." I'm demanding something else, talking to the assistant manager.
Grabbing him by the little lapels and also the bells and whistles that he wore on himself to help make him appear more than he was: gel in the hair and shit like that (unintelligible) a little bit of flat palette; I was not impressed.
I said, "Look, Alec P. Keaton*, please, why don't you stop trying to be cheating me and these other people feeding us government cheese through the hole of your donut-store-factory opened up in the mall?
Someone show me some different products, I demand."
I walked down to The Limited. Took the hand of a really fine girl and said, "What land are you from?"
She said, "La-la." I said, "I'm not -- ha-ha -- laughin', or even caught off guard for a sec.
I know you're telling the truth, exactly; that's what I expect."
I'm circumspect... I'm conscripting people into my Navy force to open up we will in the midst of the water fountain that's moving people next to the Subaru Extreme Chair** Control Championship fashion show walkway erected in the midst of the sunlight creeping down through the...j ust like a break in the bush where you set up your camp.
"Let's look around for dry wood." Of course we did; it was good. Brought it back, made a pile...
Some people tried to make fire that night. Some people tried to fight...
* I know the character's name is Alex, not Alec. Don't be such a jerk.
** This lyric was inspired by sound of Kendall moving in his chair, which can be heard in the background.
[Please bear in mind this was a freestyle, and only God knows what I really said that day. This is my best attempt to retrieve the lyrics.]
Yo, hello, don't remind me as I...
I open my encyclopedia I'm prepared to show speedy lessons to people; teach you for reading 800 words, 9,000,000 seconds; you're not prepared still rockets take off at NASA down at Cape Canaveral.
In fact I had a carnival riding through to your school, local, otherwise people would joke with local representatives, state.
Came in the cabinet, they tried to make it up fake with, like, papier mache masks.
They mad, got masques with sand or, more like, paste, right in the face, just like M.A.S.K. vehicles.
Flip, rip open up doors just like wings they were from the gull, of course.
Skull I open up like Grey. Hey, my name is Adam; He-Man I have the power, in fact.
Battle-Cat* behind me, backing my rap; it's fat!
Everybody likes it, yes, in fact.
Here come the strings like 'Phantom of the Opera'.
Still stop ya heart with one grip -- like 'Dreamscape' -- through your rib-cage out of which I rip, and the serrated edge of your ribs, cut the shit open even more.
Left it back in the open door; the oven, an'...
Then your mother came in and checked the crack; opened just a bit.
200 degrees burnt her face. She had red stripes across her eyes.
Like Sylvia Plath she was burned and caught in the aftermath of gas.
It was like a splash around the local celebrity ass-crack path.
Open up the war-path to see who comes in next: Nobody except these the door-mat they was used for.
Their necks was stepped on and, in fact, corrected they spinal injuries; spinabifida -- (scream) --
I'ma' have to find a niftier way to rhyme but for right now this'll work. I--(fine!)--(garbled)..just like wet towels and shit.
I show you why howls come from coyotes at midnight when I rock microphone talk; coming through speaker, freak you.
You're real pissed-off; you wanna be as unique with your whole crew, but you aren't.
A singular person couldn't rock this as purposefully as I have.
Just like I was a continental philosopher, theocratic; coming through.
Plutocratic is what you do. Do-o-o-o!
* Busting this lyric, I also had in mind the idea of D.J. Battle-Cat (tho I dunno if s/he's any good.)
More About This Album:
Some years ago, while living in Rochester, NY, I drove down to Boston to visit my friend Kendall McBride at his brother's place. We got appropriately enlightened and decided that I should pen and record some lyrics to his version of "Eight Days a Week". Once we finished that, we decided I should freestyle some lyrics to two more of his tracks. We were both pretty pleased with the results, which I recorded onto an analog audiotape.
Unfortunately, the next time we talked about doing something with the project, Kendall told me that he had remixed "I'm Still Holdin', Holdin' Something" which was my favorite of the tracks we had done. When I heard the remix, I didn't like it, and I couldn't find my taperecording of the original, so that pretty much killed my enthusiasm for the project as a whole (I am a bit of a perfectionist.)
Some time later, Kendall would do something totally unrelated that really pissed me off and we became estranged. It seemed nothing would ever come of Scotch Eggs (the name for our side project.)
Some time after that (Fall 2001,) I was backpacking around Europe by myself. I had rented a FIAT to get from Athens to Delphi to visit the temple of my patron Greek god (Apollo.) The crappy little car had a crappy little tape deck. I was listening to one of the handful of tapes I had brought with me. The tape came to the end of the side. I was about to hit rewind because I wasn't sure what was on the other side, but I was pretty sure it wasn't anything I liked, when all of a sudden the tape switched sides and I suddenly heard our recording of the original version of our songs. Having this experience on the road to the temple of my patron god, I knew it was my duty to reconcile with Kendall immediately upon returning home and to release our project for public consumption asap.
So, once again, as always with everything, "Live From Hyde Park" is a project whose existence is mandated by God. We hope you like the results.
All beats made by Kendall McBride using _____. All vocals recorded by Kendall McBride using _____. All lyrics written by me. Cover art by me. Mastering done by Paul Gold at his Brooklynphono studio.