1. |
I Don't Write Music
04:20
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I don’t write music when I’m happy
I don’t write songs when I’m particularly sad
I wait for the rushing of the waters to subside.
But what do I lose in the calm?
What if I choose to face the turbulence head on?
What could I learn?
I don’t tell stories in the abstract
I tend to weave a single thread along the fabric
I could literally (figuratively) weave you a song
But what do I lose in the details?
What are the views from above the abstract stratosphere?
What could I see?
I found a gray hair on your head and I thought
“Maybe I could grow old with you”
And it scared me
And I rarely trip on words
But here I did
I don’t write music when I’m at a loss for words
I don’t use music as the catalyst forwards
So as I struggle to articulate allow me to zoom out
What if I drop you?
What if I can't pick you up when you fall?
Should I write about that?
No one would listen to that.
It’s a foggy metaphor —
Am I right about that?
So let me make my lyrics better
So you can’t twist the words I said or
Misconstrue the meaning of the letter
What I really mean’s a bit more literal
See I’m not talking to you at all.
I want to have a kid
Kid I’m talking to you now
I will teach you, feed and speech you,
’Til you reach your greatest heights
But what if I drop you
What if I can't pick you up when you fall
I don’t write music when I’m frightened
So what did I learn from the journey?
What did I earn from facing fears in front of a crowd?
What did I find?
A song.
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2. |
My Name's Joel
02:18
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My name’s Joel
I’m five feet high
Although depending on the dating app I like to imply
My multiplicity
I’m actually thirty two-inch guys stacked up in a trench coat
My name's Joel
I’m a little badass
I’m a bold, shockin’
Tough-talkin’
Jaywalkin’ fellow
As soon as I determine that the light turned yellow
My name’s Joel
I go real hard
I wake up and I pound a couple of waters through the night
And then I overdose on Gummy Vites
My name's Joel
I’ve got a microphone cable to tell stories and fables and facts and jokes
You’ve come to unwind, relax,
Have some laughs
You’ve come to see what the song evokes
There’s so much to learn right here
So buckle up and jot your thoughts out in your notebook
Shake off your troubled year
You can take your heavy load and hang it on the coat hook
I’m not quite small but not quite a medium
I have a lot of facts but have to Wikipedi’em
I’m in middle, in the bittersweet
I do little of this but not that
My name’s Joel
So that’s a bit about me
Just comin up and drummin up
Some buzz about the word
From the voice with the verse
And the fifths and the thirds and the fourths
Because about the source now ya heard
My name’s Joel
I’m five feet high
Now I’m gonna tell you fifty digits of pi
3.14159265358979323846264338327950288419716939937510
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3. |
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To the girl with the genuine smile
And the almost Bohemian style
Who sits with her knees
Exposed to the breeze
In a field that rolls on for miles
To the girl with inquisitive eyes
That nobody ever denies
Who keeps a full Camelbak
In a blue hipster knapsack
Of dainty but practical size
To the girl who enjoys Irish Whiskey
And relishes all that is risky
Who plays the French horn
And watches French porn
Who's spontaneous, jolly, and frisky
To the girl who once sat next to me
In a class about music history
Who laughed at my joke
About the Baroque
And Biber's Sonatas of Mystery
I may not be
As cool as you
But can't you see
We could be two
Like milk and tea
And grass and dew
And pods and peas
And lentils and stew
Forks and spoons
And stars and moons
And chocolate crème brûlée
(I must be pretty hungray)
Hey, why don’t you come over
For a candlelit dinner tonight?
I’m a really good cook, I’ll show ya
I think you’ll know it after just one bite
Then we’ll sit on the couch by the fire
And reminisce about all that good food
We could watch HBO’s “The Wire”
I hear that’s pretty good
And then… And then…
To the girl with the genuine smile
May I have this one little dance?
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4. |
Out of Service
04:35
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I get off the train
I'm homeward bound
I've come a long way
Around the bay
Just to start a career
You were riding on the Richmond train
Spent your Saturday night at the bar
I was finding out the hard way
The trickiness of traveling without a car
I'm on the platform now
I'm upward bound (yeah I’m gonna elevate)
I'm not a stairs guy
I'm a half-off fares guy
It's part of the game (yeah you think it’s hella great)
The perks don't always make it easy though
So you can tell the critics I’m not nervous
A half price discount's hardly consolation
When the platform elevator's out of service (Woah!)
Stuck in the middle of a staircase sandwich
Can't go up
Can't go down
I was riding on the northbound
It was the last train
Well there was one more train
One level down
But since the lift was out
I had my doubts about ever
Leaving at all that night
You were riding on the Richmond
The operators had no choice
But to turn your train around cause I was
Stuck in the middle of a staircase sandwich
Can't go up
Can't go down
I was learning how to live life
In the not-so-fast lane
So I get back on a new train
That’s right, the one you’re on
When they turned you around you had no clue
Why your stop had gone
What I remember happened next I won't forget
For a long time
When I first saw you you were combing your hair
With your one free hand
You were balancing a pizza box and a bag of Lay’s
With a bottle of beer in a ripped up paper bag
It was precarious
When you first saw me I was kinda confused
‘Cause I didn't know
The train they chose to use would be filled with literally hundreds of people
You thought I missed my train
And that I convinced them to come back
There’s no time to explain
And you’re quite drunk
And you’re yelling at me:
Are they gonna hold the bus?
Are they gonna hold the bus?
Are they gonna hold the bus?
At EL CERRITO TOO?
Do you wanna bag of Lay's?
Do you wanna bag of Lay's? Ha!
Do you wanna bag of LAZE
I can sell Doritos too!
No!
See I was
Stuck in the middle of a staircase sandwich
Couldn't go up
Couldn't go —
you know what no time cause
We’re back at the new station now
Finally upward bound (it’s got a working elevator)
I’m going home
Yeah I’m free to roam
The whole city! (I think I’ll see you fellas later)
We were riding on the Richmond
I’m on the street now
At a different stop
But it's a different stop
So I'm two miles from home
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5. |
Cars!
01:30
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This one’s about cars!
They’re mighty metal chassis
With reclinable seats
I’m Ares
You’re Aphrodite
Pump the gas, seize the wheel,
Own the streets
Big stick
Chiseled jaw
Muscle car
Break the law
Cool guy
Impress friends
Look fly
In a Mercedes Benz
Nothing comes in between
Me and my road rage dopamine
I’m a king
You all suck
I do what the truck I want
This one’s about cars!
They’re mighty metal chassis
With reclinable seats
If you need help over there
Watch me laugh, see if I care
If you’re in need, if you’re in trouble you
Watch me leave in my BMW
I can do anything
‘cause my car’s much bigger than yours
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6. |
I Will Never
04:45
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I will never be an astronaut
And I think that’s okay
Won’t try it out, won’t dream of it,
Won’t work towards it someday
I will never see the cratered moon
Spin round and round
I’ll happily observe the stars
And planets from the ground
I won't
Somebody else will
I think it’s really cool that they can do that
I don't
Somebody else does
I will never be afraid to say that
I will never jump two meters high
Will never run a race
I will never not have funny feet or
Obstacles to face
Though we may obsess or worry
Over what we do
There’s nothing wrong or lesser
With not being able to
I won't
Somebody else will
I think it’s really cool that they can do that
I don't
Somebody else does
I will never be afraid to say that
Please don’t get it twisted
You don’t have to can to prove that you existed
Feel the euphoria of letting that go
I’m not quite small but not quite a medium
I have a lot of facts but have to Wikipedi-‘em
There’s a lot that I just infer
But there's four things I know for sure:
I’ll never be the best
I’ll never be the worst
I’ll never be the last one on earth
Or the first
For all parts that make up me
There’s a thousand I’ll never be
I’ll never be a pot of coffee
Or marching bands
Or play Rachmaninoff-y
With enormous hands
I’ll never be a potion
Or an ocean wave
Or an obstinate hair
That won’t shave
I’ll never be Mr. Ed
Or Dr. Scholl’s
Or get all the jobs
Or land all the roles
I’ll never reach up high
Or tie my shoes
Or anchor the 90s news
I’ll never be a tasty sandwich
Or a cask of beer
Nor will I accomplish every
Task this year
I’ll never be the best
I’ll never be the worst
I’ll never be the last one on earth
Or the first
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7. |
Food for Thought
04:39
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I’m cookin' up a stew
I’m rockin’ the potlucks
I’m talk of the town
Like who is the fella who’s got the root vegetables down
I’m whipping up some brunch
I’m skilled with the skillet
I waffle, I bake
And I’d take a gamble on any old scramble I make
How the thoughts stood still when stakes were high
I fumbled fishing for a line
I crumbled wishing I could
Mix in with your palate but my
Lightly tossed word salad was too
Oily so this boy leafed through the
Cookbooks for advice against the clock
We had the spice but not the stock
All that’s left now just
An old cookie crumble
A memento
Food for thought
I’m makin' split pea soup
I’m real epicurious, trying homemade with ham-hocks
Yeah I’m serious, nothin’ out of the box
I’m clippin’ up some thyme
I grow my own rosemary
Parsley and sage
Heartbreak like all the old sayings
Gets better with age
How the thoughts stood still when stakes were high
I fumbled fishing for a line
I crumbled wishing I could
Mix in with your palate but my
Lightly tossed word salad was too
Oily so this boy leafed through the
Cookbooks for advice against the clock
No matter how the dish was peppered
Its success remained in jeopardy
The mess was something deeper
In the base how long to steep
Or maybe we were face to face
With oil and water in the bottom of the pot
And what we got
Would not suffice
We had the talk
We had the spice but not the stock
All that’s left now just
An old cookie crumble
A memento
Food for thought
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8. |
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In the month of February
I am contemplating spring
Time is never at rest
So I try my best at pacing
Just to see if it’ll help
Can’t right now, I’ll do it later,
Leave to fate or push to
Maybe another time
Today’s just not the day to force a
Reason for the rhythm or the rhyme
I’m sorry
It feels so far even though it fills my days
Flash to June, the desktop cluttered
Hopes not shuttered, I’ll wrap soon
Late nights and sips of scotch
The city watches the fog roll in
While the writer shelters with Lagavulin
Now it’s fall
Quite frankly all I have to show for it is this
Short chorus, a scribbled page
The vague half-finished verse
Becoming irrelevant and a little worse with age
I’m sorry
It feels so far even though it fills my days
Isn’t it noble to be a bard
Isn’t it human to tell a story
Is it normal to wanna discard
All of the lyrics I wrote before
Even the good ones I think they’re all trash
In music I’m reminded
How in time it all falls out of fashion
So I think I’ll just quit!
Come along Joel
It’s just a song Joel
I wasn’t planning to take so long I had a vision at twenty three
Deep revelation within nine songs
So that the future remembers me
Well look at that ego
Isn’t all this quite conceited?
Won’t I want to change the verses
When they’re finally completed?
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
I’m sorry it took so long
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9. |
Intro to ⤵
00:28
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10. |
F**kin' Abbot
06:51
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It’s 1528, anno domini
Last year I donned the robes of black
And joined the monastery
I heard of this guy named Luther
Turns out he’s not real cool with indulgences
So he assembled the truth, sir
And nailed it onto a door for the world to see
I consider myself a pretty worldly guy
The kind of monk who’s grabbed an ale with Henry V-triple-I (I-I-I!)
So I posted my own theses, just for kicks
Don’t mean to toot my horn, but there were 96.
The very next day I went to greet the undoubtedly large crowd at the door
But to my dismay my sacred piece of parchment was no more
Instead of my work, neatly nailed to the door was a note that so passive aggressively read:
“No unauthorized signage shall be posted on this door. It is only to be used for entering and exiting. Signed, head of the monastery, Abbot John.”
Unbelievable
He thinks he rules the monastery
Well I mean he kinda does but anyway
This new life as a monk is really solitary
I just want people to hear me
But this Abbot guy’s making it really…
I don’t even know what to say sometimes
It’s just like…fuckin’ Abbot, do you know what I mean?
Okay, nobody got to read my theses in the end
I think I’ve got an idea that’ll put me in a history codex
I will write a mass that will transcend
The very fabric of music in this time
I consider myself a pretty musical man
The kind of monk who’s played a few notes with Josquin
So I wrote my not-so-ordinary mass
Don’t mean to toot my horn, but it was pretty bad ass
I gathered the boys that night to sing through all my notes
The most beautiful voice came out of all those monk-y throats
Well just as we got to the third Kyrie, there came a knock on the door from that Abbot to say:
“As we know and signed in our rental agreement, quiet hours in the Abbey start promptly at 4pm.”
It’s just like...fuckin’ Abbot. You know what I mean though.
I went to the Abbot’s office for to say
“I’ve had enough of your Machiavellian antics”
But something curious happened on that day
When we came face to face, I got all nervous
I consider myself a pretty eloquent dude
But when I looked in his eyes, I started feelin' a mood
Sometimes I can’t believe the evils of man
I think, “I guess I’ll leave, maybe check out the Quran”
But when I consider a life without him
I get a little bit sad and grim
What are these feelings that suddenly arise
When I think of his beautiful, sparkling, shimmering, smoldering…Abbot-y eyes?
He’s condescending and bosses me around
But something just makes me feel safe and sound
Hey, Mr. Abbot!
I think I’m falling for you.
I know it’s a little crazy but
Hey, Mr. Abbot!
Can’t you see that we could be two?
I just want you to be near me
Even though you’ve always been distant cold and icy
It's like I always say: the cold never bothered me anyway
I guess you could say...
I’m just a benedictine guy who’s been addicted to you.
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Joel Chapman New York, New York
🎼 NYC singer-songwriter
♿️ Efficient pedestrian
٩(◕‿◕。)۶
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