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Foxtails Brigade

by Foxtails Brigade

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credits

released April 8, 2016

Laura Weinbach - guitar, vocals
Anton Patzner - guitar, vocals, bass, percussion, synths, strings, programming Joe Lewis - bass
Dominic Mercurio - drums, percussion
Joshua Pollock - guitar, vibraphone, percussion, drums

Additional musicicans:
Reto Peter - snare drum
Graham Patzner & MAx Weinbach - trumpet
Nick Pojman - trombone
Lewis Patzner - trombone, cello
Kurt Patzner - bass trombone
Nicky Weinbach - vocals

Song written by Laura Weinbach and Anton Patzner
Produced by Jeff Saltzman
Engineered by Alex Oubre
Recorded at Skyline Studios in Oakland, CA
Mixed by Steve Beacham
Horns Engineered by Bryan Matheson
Mastered by Brian “Big Bass” Gardner

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Track Name: We Are Not Ourselves
Sleeplessly I will think of
stories with no beginning or end
make countless pointless observations
on the ratio of sheep to their friends.
I am not myself.
We are not ourselves.
Restlessly I’ll recollect all
of the vulgar different ways you can swear
and think of all the different people
who I’d like to see get pushed down the stairs.
I am not myself.
We are not ourselves.
I’ve been tossing turning in my bed
for what seems like so long
the minutes ticking on the clock
they go on.
All the voices talking in my mind
tell me I’m not crazy.
Be quiet
Just go to sleep…
I am not myself.
We are not ourselves.
Easelessly I will remember
all the reasons why my life is not fair
and how I don’t have any friends
or anyone who in the slightest bit cares.
I am not myself.
We are not ourselves.
Broken records spinning in a loop
for what seems like so long
scratch louder every time they turn
and go on.
All the voices talking in my mind
tell me I’m not crazy
be quiet!
Just go to sleep
to sleep to sleep.
I am not myself.
We are not our we are not ourselves.
We are not ourselves...
Track Name: Perfect Execution
When the night hours have no sympathy
for my belief in bad t.v
I waste and watch with a heavy stare
and I fail to care, I lay impaired
‘cause it’s better, yeah it’s better still.
When the next episode’s my only friend
on which I depend ‘cause I do defend
that if I walk with an empty hand
at least I’d know then, that I failed at my plan
‘cause it’s better, yeah it’s better than
just being good enough to fit your compromise.
No perfect execution ever satisfies.
And I’m over trying to prove
what I’m only bound to lose.
When all the judges tell me I can’t win
I do begin to just give in.
And now it’s just a simple matter of time
before I decline to walk a straight line
‘cause it’s better, better than when I’m
just being good enough to fit your compromise.
No perfect execution ever satisfies
when I’m over trying to prove
what I’m only bound to lose.
I used up so much time
trying to make it over to the other side
but I never made it past the point
of being right behind the starting line
cause it’s better, it’s better than,
it’s better, it’s still better than, it’s better,
I know it’s better than
just being good enough to fit your compromise.
No perfect execution ever satisfies.
And I’m never gonna prove
what I’m only bound to lose.
I’ve never grown up
but you’re so old.
Track Name: Nun But The Lost
Nun but the lost shall find their way
to neither forest neither valley neither darkness nor day
shall the wretched be confined when the swinging
daggers prophesize.
Still they grind, grind, grind, grind
through the rust and the rubble and the rubbish and the rind
and in the chime, chime, chime, chime chime
of the flesh falling from the face of filth and flies
they cry a little louder, a little longer
with twisted timbre, like sleepy songbirds
“no don’ t take us, don’ t forsake us
we’ ll’ ve paid our debts when we’ re up in ‘ heaven’
Place inside your pockets the pulp of pride
all candy-coated, crystal-covered, cracked and caramelized
for when the toll the bell must take
one does make and eat his cake then too.
See sight through the sockets of sunken eyes
in retrospective view selective few are colorblind
but in the hour of despair when all is seemingly unfair
they cry.
Still they grind, grind, grind, grind
through the trust and the trouble and the toil of
the times and in their prime, prime, prime, prime, prime
it is pitiful the people who prevail and preside
but cry a little louder, a little longer
with twisted timber, like sleepy songbirds
no don’ t stop there, don’ t resign
just cry a little louder, a little longer...
None but the lost shall find their way
and in the dust and the drilling and the digging for the day
there is an edge that’ s silver-lined
and it casts beams of light that shine and shine.
Track Name: Dirtbags and Dozers
It’s getting harder to remember
important lessons I learned last year
Dumb luck has been known to expire
just when the steaks are getting higher.
The stars all line up in order
just to build their boundless borders.
Your face is uglier than last year
liver spots on your neck and your ears
they might grow rapidly in water
slow boiled, like sick fermented soft serve.
I have seen at least a thousand times over
white daisies double-crossed by dirtbags and dozers
served to the servants on a silver platter
peacocks seared and stuffed with pearls fried and battered.
But we still play patiently
though the lights may never change from red to green.
While we await the tide rises and falls
taunting and teasing impertinent calls.
So long to all of my old habits
sucked thumbs are for the birds and rabbits
we’ll eat when we’re not even hungry
just bored and pitiful and lonely.
When all our compositions become useless
we’ll fade away silent aimless and youthless.
And each year day hour and minute that passes
fades in the embers that burn into ashes.
And all of the castles that float in the distance
never get reached without ample resistance.
But none can know the sorrows of a savage
faced with a fate ordinary and average.
But we still play patiently
the lights may never change from red to green.
Track Name: Long Route
With this conversation I’ve grown tired
seems we’ve gone about this wrong.
My imagination isn’t wired
to distract me for this long.
I have always been the type to
learn the hard way, take the long route
take the long route up.
Failure, disappointment, and rejection
things the people always say
I’d encounter in my life’s direction
still I’ve known no other way.
But they tell me
I’m a slow burn
It’ll pay off, I’ll get my turn
I’ll get my turn yet.
They say quick sand always pulls much faster
when you’re sinking, staring backwards
just recall what you’ve been bound to
when you’re bound to
take the long route up.
And I get a kind of satisfaction
when I see the others fall
I guess it’s a natural reaction
when you’re up against the wall.
But they tell me I’m a slow burn
It’ll pay off, I’ll get my turn
But for now we’re gonna have to
take the long route, take the long route
take the long route, take the long route up.
Track Name: No Fate
in the middle of the shot of the starting gun
I didn’t realize that the game had just begun
and after hours starin straight at the burning sun
a double vision kept my eyes all wide
arrested by a feeling something was watching me
I had a mind to keep from anyone and anything
and on the verge of giving in to a losing fight
I froze and faded in to bleak bright white
the full moon told me not to run
watch your back you’ve got only one
when in open air a siren was ringing out
the earth falling through the cracks in the open ground
and in the banging of the beat of a shooting round
the day was faded into blank black night
but when the fences and the chains all began to rust
I saw the city through thick veil of valley dust
and in the shadow of the shape of the overhang
I heard the message and the words NO FATE
no fate but what you make in the end
there’s no fate
“no fate” she scribed into the incision, no fate
and in the middle of the shot of the starting gun
I didn’t realize that the game had just begun
and after hours starting straight at the burning sun
and in the banging of the beat of the army drum
and in the shadow of the shape of the overhang
there was a message loud and clear calling out my name
and in the middle of the shot of the starting gun
I didn’t realize it was half way over
no fate
no fate
no fate but what you make in the end
there’s no fate
no fate
no fate
Track Name: Last Still Standing
Hold it back
hold it back again
hold it back to hold out in suspense
hold it to you only hold against.
When you’re fixed on the prize just beyond sight
consumed with the hunger of lions
fixed on the piece always out of your reach
compelled by the weight of the gun
in a race to the top you might never reach
to be like the ones who you wanna be
to keep you staying
with the few left in the fight to be the last still standing.

Break it in
break it in again
break it up and down and break through
break it till it bleeds all black and blue.
When you’re fixed on the ground in a void with no bounds
and a pride that runs thicker than deep
fixed on the fear that grows darker each year
that you know you’re not where you belong
in a race to the top you might never reach
to be like the ones who you’ll never be
to keep you staying
with the few left in the fight to be the last still standing.

And when they all fall down
(and without a name, underneath the waves and the overhang,
they will drown)
and when they all fall down
(after all the hype, like a pack of flies drawn to the light, one at a time,
they fall out)
new ones rise up
all over again
(like the ones before)
to keep you under
(hanging by a thread just to keep your head clear from all the rest)
underneath it all
(falling out)
just below the bar
(held back by the wayside)
to keep you staying
with the few left in the fight to be the last still standing.
With the few left in the fight
with the few left in the fight
with the few left in the fight
with the few left in the fight to be the
last still standing.
Track Name: Don't Look Down
Joseph Caraway orphaned unwise
took short cuts to his demise:
footsteps treading on only the cracks
leave the shapes of cloven tracks.
Innocent, innocent found
misery, misery bound
penitence, penitence sound._
Vera Vandemark, all dressed in white
never slept without the light.
Headless rattlesnakes inside their caves
preying on the souls of slaves.
Innocent innocent found
misery misery bound
penitence penitence
sound the church bells
burn the flowers
call upon the darkest hours
story teller’s pen preserving
strike the pure and undeserving.
Silver serving knives all in a line
waiting to commit their crimes.
Chisled china dolls, their bitter meat
stain red pearly canine teeth.
Innocent innocent found
misery misery bound
penitence penitence
sound the church bells
burn the flowers
call upon the darkest hours
story teller’s pen unswerving
strike the pure and undeserving.

Don’t look down
don’t look down
don’t look down.

Innocent innocent found
misery miser bound
penitence penitence
sound the church bells
burn the flowers
call upon the darkest hours
story teller’s pen submerging
strike the pure and undeserving.
Track Name: Watch Me
Watch me floating in the ring
watch me swiftly downward sink
watch me rising from the crawl
watch me flying
watch me fall
watch me fall.
Watch me diving for the prize
watch me trying
watch me fight
watch me playing to the crowd
watch them swiftly drown me out
watch me drown.
When the airplane drops
when the sirens call
with no resistance
I’ll stay true to the ties that bind me
and won’t resist
giving in when the new wave takes me
I’ll give in to the fall that breaks me.
But I won’t look back to the old ways
I’ll never return
I won’t look back to the old ways
I’ll never return
I won’t look back to the old ways
I’ll never return
I’ll give in when the new wave takes me
I’ll give into the fall that breaks me
I’ll breathe in when the new waves take me
I’ll dive into the fall that breaks me.
I’ll give in when the new wave takes me
I’ll give into the fall that breaks me.
Track Name: Last Of A Dying Breed
Though the ages have forgotten
florid sensibilities
powdered hair and skin all rotten
no longer a sacred thing
for the last of a dying breed
knows no virtue in vacancy.
And such discourse remains unyielding.

Exiled by exaltation
steadfast in the will of place
confined by generation
preserved in perfect grace
for the last of a dying breed
fares not well in complacency.
And such discourse remains unyielding.

For the last of a dying breed
inevitably faced with conformity
flourishes only in undefeated
passage to the rights of antiquity.

When reason reaches closure
such would sooner lay to waste
compliance with wry composure
to save an unmarked face
for the last of a dying breed
wants not for such vacancy.
And such discourse remains unyielding.
Track Name: Far Away And Long Ago
Far away and long ago
kings in castles high and low
and things of beauty to behold
all worth more than their weight in gold…
Finely crafted gilded glass
sculpted moldings iron casts
and tables set with cloth and wine
essentials to a vaster time.
Cawing clawing invisibly
the axes cry the sledgehammers sing.
Lying dogs awake from their sleep
when leaning towers crumble like teeth.
And the pages turn before they quickly burn
to a salty pile of prisms and wires.
Values mark their shift in course
innovate without remorse
prepare the cannons, load the guns
a new world order has begun…
Sliver, sterile, steadfast, and clean
the standard for a brave new machine.
In fast-producing efficiency
the lights will flash in florescent green
and the tables turn before they quickly burn
to a salty pile of prisms and wires.
Far away and long ago
stars will set and suns will glow.