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Foxtails Brigade

by Foxtails Brigade

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Tommy MV$ERVTI
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Tommy MV$ERVTI Glad ya liked the vid I posted on your Facebook page 😄 Favorite track: No Fate.
Valerie Diaz
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Valerie Diaz This song is so good it gives me chills! Favorite track: We Are Not Ourselves.
Will Huggins
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Will Huggins Your show at SFMOMA brought me here. Your latest album is one of the best I've heard all year and I listen to a lot of music. Favorite track: Don't Look Down.
Andrew Vaughn
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Andrew Vaughn "I have seen at least a thousand times over,
White daisies double-crossed by dirtbags and dozers."

Something about that line is amazing to me. I never tire of it.

Foxtails Brigade has succeeded in implementing an enormous variety of instruments into one little package. Favorite track: Dirtbags and Dozers.
Jerry Snook
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Jerry Snook Best album of 2016! Creative, intelligent, interesting and unique. Best album ever.
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1.
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...
2.
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.
3.
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.
4.
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.
5.
Long Route 03:08
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.
6.
No Fate 03:07
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
7.
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.
8.
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.
9.
Watch Me 03:59
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.
10.
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.
11.
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.

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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