Talking Is Dead

Download Defunct_-_Episode_2.mp3 In this episode...Dave talks about a gridiron response to US tariff wars.Steve talks about two 70's pitchers who "swing" for the picket fences.Anthony talks about when NHL players tried to look like youth ministers.

Download CCC36_-_PCTO23.mp3 Posted for CNDOP 2023. Apologies to Candice for so long a wait for posting. I have no excuse. Trust me. It's not a long con.

Download TiD51_-_Shit_Became_Real_for_Me_When_Santa_Died.mp3 A conversation about music, artistic process, and punching directions with Sean McGaughey!

Download Gollamalloo.mp3 I've used the word "gollamalloo" as a user name for emails and online handles for years now. This song is where that word comes from.The song is basically an amalgam of weird and wacky events that occurred during parties I'd been to when I was younger. There are many nonsense words in here denoting the incomprehensible rambling of many of my fellows who were under the influence, or, in some cases, me being under the influence and perhaps ascribing such meaninglessness to what may have been cogent utterances.Gollamalloo!the intoxicant was passed effervescent to the lastdropped a notch or two along the evolutionary scalewormwood stole my cerebellum hid it in a shelland stopped the outbound Reason setting sailheart palpitating 13/8 as broadloom undertook a stateof liquefied marshmallow soup a hearty shade of pinkI quickly cried “Gollamalloo!” and paddled in vain with my shoebut directionless I tired and promptly came the sinkRandy took a hard-boiled egg and held it to his nosesaid “I’m the king of all the earth” and smeared it on his clothesDonna took out her left breast and cupped it with a Jell-O moldwhile Dave howled Tarzan calls and beat his chestcryonic in its state the heavy albatross Grape Apehangs in heat transference peeling from the fabric on my chestI hit the archetypal ground when there barked a blaring soundand ingenue turned seismic goo encompassing the restcrass opulence thought Eye covered the earth in plastic guiseto preserve it for the future wailing wake of dense Raguintelligence in this loose form uncovered “whence you are forewarned”embroidered on a pillowcase across the sofa blueSuzie took her lipstick out wrote epithets on Billcollapsed after the airplane spins had made him rather illRick mooned the room and tripped up on his jeans into the rugCin sat glass-eyed drooling playing with the plugzen tropi magoo snore de yem fargcola ma sigh fyris enterbcheka terwank semina whomina snarfgladiola moon time to cut the grass too soonincandescent tune overwrought the 4th of Junesucked into the great monsoon…prostrate porcelain penitence performed the unformed recitencerejected fusili non grata adopt cheerio packscalm countenance found my embrace entwined to cool my faceand forced remission from the aftershock attackKaren stood up quietly said “Anth, I think I’m dying"dropped to her knees and crying said “goodbye"her face went pale and she collapsed in the middle of the roomEye petrified, she smiled, jumped up shouting "Gollamalloo!"zen tropi magoo snore de yem fargcola ma sigh fyris enterbcheka terwank semina whomina snarf

Download 60_Seconds_on_59th.mp3 This song was a bit strange from the moment the music and lyrics came together. I normally write lyrics before music and the lyrics for this one are really depressing. The music, however, is rather upbeat. Don't remember if there was motivation for this intentionally or not. The song starts with a brief notice of a man committing suicide by hanging off the 59th Street Bridge (not feeling groovy). The remainder of the song talks about the minute which follows from the people who witness the event and how they deal with what they have witnessed.60 seconds on 59thHector tests his slip knot on crossbeam 17on the darker side of the 59th Street BridgeEsmerelda Jones heads home in her ’83 CorrollaOblivious to the crosshairs on her hoodFunky Phil assumed a groovy staggered lamppost slalomand spied a shadow perched akimbo on the iron tightropeSlipping on the cobblestones a headlight bore down on himBanshee tires scream to silence inches from his headHector will you take a flying leap through open airSquare yourself for impact as you wonder how to flyCry a sullen lullaby as flurries still the nightFrightened take a second breath while hair stands on your neckHold your eyes high happy people, don’t look down‘cause a foul wind’s making troubled waters churn belowColder skies are building up the mother of all stormsand I think that all our hopes are gonna drown Charlie Graham from Birmingham torched the garbage canand huddled shivering over tubed infernoHeard the rubber squeal and the metal monster groaningthen someone slipping off the rail and falling into nothing.Esmerelda held her breath while helping Phil erectwhereupon their awestruck gaze caught Hector tumble overA wail rose from behind as Charlie overtook themcollapsing at the top of the human pendulumHold your eyes high happy people, don’t look down‘cause a foul wind’s making troubled waters churn belowColder skies are building up the mother of all stormsand I think that all our hopes are gonna drownFootpatrolman Dan O’Shea saw the defeated silhouettefrom the frozen headlights on the other sideWaxed in indecision watched the stark tableau unfoldas though he’d no position to intrudeHead over heels the horizon in towWith the city lights spinning in ostinatoIllumination in streaked oscillationAmorphus glow starts to slow downHector swayed with the melting wind and froze a final sceneThe concrete tumblers locked within his sightEsmerelda Jones withdrew into safe warm placeand never crossed the bridge again at nightHold your eyes high happy people, don’t look down ‘cause a foul wind’s making troubled waters churn belowColder skies are building up the mother of all stormsand I think that all our hopes are gonna drown

Download Tangerine_Frankenstein.mp3 Sitting around during the COVID-19 pandemic, I decided now would be a (good?) time to share old recordings of songs I've written and recorded. Many of these were written as long as 25 years ago and recorded almost as long ago. They are (at best) demo quality, but for a 4 to 5 minute share, I thought I'd help to fill people's podcast feeds on a more regular basis.There is no introduction or closing to each of these songs, just the song itself. I'll include the lyrics below if you can't quite believe what you might have heard me sing.Many of them are quirky, narrative, and quite frankly from a bizarre place. I share simply because, at a quarter century old, I'm really past what people might think of these. Consider this a pandemic online archiving process. I'll try to put out one a day.The first track is entitled Tangerine Frankenstein which, if I remember correctly, was inspired by reading one of those regular articles about someone powering a clock with a potato or some such thing. The idea was that if you could power a clock with a potato, why not Frankenstein with a tangerine?And now you have an idea of where my head used to be at while writing songs.Tangerine FrankensteinI am a paradigm. Sense scores by a nose.Blue sails sucking up the sun.I am the iconographer reduced to stick figures.Crass acrobat underneath the gun.Circus freak columbine pumped by the multi-facet ball.Ecstasy Clementine spooned by the grease monkey alcohol....Holiday do you care I been waiting for his call an’ til he’shad his toast and jam, make a beeline for Havana singing songs of Old Susanna.I am semiotic, symbolic signifier, verbal ectoplasmagraphic goo.I am syntheseismic, tectonic normalizer, cabalistic paranormal stew.Couture chic valentine, runway-pathic optioneering slim.Tangerine Frankenstein, autostatic flailing seraphim.I seek the cosmic rototiller foraging through the underbrush.Undiscovered tangleweed pulling at my bootsI leak orgasmic motor oil and I’m OHC/FI.Son uncovered creator’s creed grasping for my roots.Reykjavik I’m coming home, back to the land of the ice and snow.Reykjavik I’m coming home. I’ll be on Friday’s floe....Holiday do you care I been waiting for his call an’ til he’shad his toast and jam, make a beeline for Havana singing songs of Old Susanna.I am cyberotic. Infested technocratic literal command structure chew.I’m phantasmagoric, dense rationalizer, exodermal jigsaw puzzle brew.Couture chic valentine, runway-pathic optioneering slim.Tangerine Frankenstein, autostatic flailing seraphim.Citrus. Circuit. Systematic peel.