CRYING
GET OLDE

Definitely one of my favorite releases of the year. If you, like me, are a fan of chiptune but kind of bored with the predictability of it then check the dreamy floaty indie-pop-punk-scrape of this Crying record is for you. Sounds kind of like Liz Phair trapped inside a GameBoy writing the rock record of your dreams.

click here to download the album!
Also available on Double Double Whammy!!

1. Open
2. Bloom
3. Bodega Run
4. Rat Baby
5. Vacation
6. Olde World
7. ES

Elaiza Santos - Vocals
Ryan Galloway - Guitar + Game Boy
Nick Corbo - Drums

Recorded, Mixed, and Mastered by Mike Ditrio
Released August 29, 2013

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

 

please note "get olde" in the subject or body of your donation.

Bloom

i can't bring myself to do it
i can't operate a car
i can't drive a car
i am no good

i can't bring myself to learn it
i can't get by on a bike
i am 2 afraid 2 try again
i am no good

B L O O M
get up!
D O O M
escape before it erupts!
B L O O M
get olde!
B O O M
get out before it explodes!

god bless tha Q38
and pals who, despite how late, will
wait until the home bodega

trade a chaperone to be babysat
f all the harris rats
i'd rather you sleep than
join the ivy league

Bodega Run

quarters clinkin in my altoids tin
feeling wild . . . gonna break this five . . .
but they don't got them dank doritos
or them jalapeño cheetos

bodega run oo-oo-ooh
do ya wanna share a yoo-hoo?
lil debbie's giving me the eye down that aisle,
but pass me a bag o the hot fries, baby

this band is boring me
let's cross the street
to where they got them dank doritos
and them jalapeño cheeto-oo-ooos

Rat Baby

living in the same
boxes of hand-me-downs
is getting old, plus
you're chubbier now
little girl,
learn to throw some things away
learn to make new space

shuffling years of
catharsis and spanish notes,
library fines, and
each letter dad wrote
where's the formula
for separating waste
from what can remain?

i'm forgetting everything, slowly
don't tell me i'm the only one who can't
remember high school lunch
and if this is the pace at which i'm going
what'll be left of me when i'm 51

Vacation

nothing makes the blood boil
like a costco run plus
realizing the m doesn't come on the weekends
and weak friends --
all the ones who hesitate
to answer you unless it's convenient

bon voyage
forget that olde worlde
i'm inching away from the darkest slump of my life
and i don't know if i'm coming back

the 718 is a gum
sweet to chew at the start,
now it's dull on the tongue

caught a psychic fiendin'
on my sick flip phone once
spotted m&m man rolling by near the autos
and cheap lottos
spent a buck and won it back
the man would laugh
didn't lose like you'd thought so

~chorus~

back to that halal stand
where is the holy man?
i peel the gloss off of wooden pews
because i choose
because i choose to

bili?
love bili?
do you love bili?
who the hell is bili?

~chorus~

Olde World

i'm not a witch; i'm just a woman!
even if i were, i wouldn't be a mean one
pour 1 out for the homies that live on my floor
and won't hold the elevator doors cos
they're better than that
i'm better than that,
but they still spit at me

i'd cast a spell, but i don't know one!
even if i did, it'd prolly be for fun and stuff
every time i spot a homie that lives on my floor
i still hold the elevator doors cos
i'm better than that
i'm better than that,
but they still spit at me

gotta file my taxes just like every other guy
gotta see the dentist just like every other guy
gotta check my e-mail just like every other guy
gotta sip that 40 just like every other guy

ES

how does the world perceive me
perceiving myself?
all i care to do is sip on
beer and chocolate milk
i'm frightened more than
usual, lately
i do not translate into
'one of the boys'
'lotus flower'
or 'chinita'
i'm just ES and i'd prolly rather
nap than wonder, restlessly:
will ya ever be impressed by me?
mom doesn't think i fit into the
darling archetype, but
that's an ancient pair of jeans
and my thighs are
crafted
holy,
rolling thunder
forget the numbers
forget the numbers, please

every goddamn family reunion,
someone's got somethin' to say
how didja become this way?

as if i've made a mistake
meanwhile, they've slaughtered the cake