OUR BRAND COULD BE YOUR LIFE

by Bodega Bay

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about

All sounds recorded with a mac internal mic in Garageband.

credits

released July 30, 2015

Released by Capitalist Records.

Bodega Bay is:

Bodega Ben
Taiko Aiko
Baron Von Weikkmann
Belfiglio Du Jour
Chef K. Kaplan
Floor Tom Miller Hi-life

Mixed And Mastered by Denver Hughes

Guests:
Joshua Fu
Alex Fippinger
James Stark
Kate Mohanty
Ryan Drag
David Welles
Brendan Winick
Anna Takayama
Jason King
Winston Prof. Slack

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

Bodega Bay New York

NYC art rock unit.

Critique and reverence for the rock tropes.

Songs for a variety of occasion.

contact / help

Contact Bodega Bay

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Track Name: Performance
It all boils down to what you know and you know more baby than you let show.
Use that dumb mask as a crutch so you can say: “Ben, I’m just making this up.”

Performance.
Performance.
Today a punk pauper, tomorrow a prince.
You’d sell us all just to be at where it is.

Behind shot eyes is a dead vacant hole. Are these new friends or just more heads for your show?
Sell nostalgia as a joke but anyone can tell childhood is where you long back to go.

Performance.
You’d sell your own soul to be at where it is.
Track Name: Bodega Bait
This is new Bodega song. It’s not going to be very long. We’ve got so many things to sell you but there’s no time left to sing along. We’ve love to answer all your queries but there’s no time left to sing along. No time left to
Track Name: Listen With Yr Eyes
Listening to your band on Bandcamp is never really satisfying. Slouched in front of desktop.
Makes mediocre rock pop.

This media beats me up.
Beats me up media.

Reading all your songs on Bandcamp. Black background burns my eyes. Now I sing into your laptop.
Digital complacent sap rock.

This media beats me up
Beats me up media.

Me
decay
idea.

These MIDI-tracked ideas.
Media beats me up.
Beats me up Medea.
Beats me up media.
Track Name: ATM
AT THIS MOMENT

Stick in plastic. Type in code. Take what I want from you and hit the road. Got no time to waste so pay a fee. No touching buttons ever free.

Trademark.
ATM.

Let’s go wireless.
DNA Debit.
It’s future.

At
This
Moment.

Give information. Tell me all that you know. There’s public transportation now in your home. It’s on the screen. There’s contracts building on the contacts in your phone. Take out your goodies.

Ask: Is everyone you know just an ATM?
Track Name: ATM II
Cultural consumer stops at ATM. Takes out two twenties for light beer funds. Just scored sweet tix for a rock gig at the Music Hall of Williamsburg. Standing at this ATM. Waiting, staring at blank screen. He stops.
It suddenly hits him.

He`s never asked himself what this means.
“What good is this rock pop band? Is this liberation or distraction? Were The Beatles how the 60s were kept in line? Every song is a potential sale and every man is a potential fan.”

Why would you want somebody’s band to be your life even if it was your own?

Enter pin code: 8723.

Two hours later weaves through crowd. Pays surcharge at venue’s ATM. “Should I sing along or should I listen?” Can’t hear the words through all the modulation. Standing at basement ATM. Can see concert on flat screen. The band stops.
It suddenly hits him.
Track Name: Webster Hall
Shouting lyrics in your ear. Good thing you’re wearing earplugs.
I know obscure verses in the bridge. I’ve memorized this whole album.
To know that I’m not alone,
To show that I`m a fan.
They’ll know that I was here yesterday with my gear.
I stopped at the ATM.

////////

You’re shouting lyrics in my ear. Your flailing has just spilled my beer.
My fourteen dollars has now left my cup. You think that you are dancing but you’re just beating me up.
Your fun’s at my expense
Now I don’t wanna stay
These strobe lights hard to take sober anyway
I’ll head for the MTA.
Track Name: Temporarily Out of Order
Words float down the river. Won’t you jump in?
Words soak and fade away. Never read again.

I don’t know. I don’t know which way we should go.
And I know you. You don’t know
or else you would say so.

There’s not many fanny packs to go around.
But it will last some time. It’ll have to last some time.

[River splits into four]

Why not try (A)?
Try (A).
Head for the port side.
Try (A).

Rain falls on our ferry. Our wood deck’s drained.
Mechanical birds in circles above us. They can’t and won’t show us the way.
Track Name: Protean
She said we could never be. That don’t really matter to me anyway. We’re an island in a military campaign. Colonel is taking orders from champagne. Our coast is a target for both sides’ siege and those steel cage machines can’t change their direction. Can’t change their direction.

She said there’s nothing ever new in the arts. Right then I knew we would start to break away. That thinking is lazy. Underground Paisley. Tell myself this is why we stopped
but I know I was dropped and later changed my perspective. You have to change your perspective.

And like that mannequin’s holy glow and King XVIII in his gaudy robes → What’s in the mirror is not really there but if I stare I’ll want to change my direction. I have to change my direction.

Strip away and refine direction. Give and take better direction.
Track Name: Stain Glaze
Rat trap. Set ’em back. Pray to a stain glass with your candle wax.

Mic check. Your king’s in check. Your mother always told you don’t forget to set your clocks back.

Mic check. Bertolt Brecht. Establish discourse between rock and pop and spec.

Shoe gaze. In a window display. The Captured Tracks are there to help you bliss out when it’s time to pay.
Track Name: Realism
Miranda comes now, steps on veranda. TXT from best friend Montana. But that’s not her cellular. No, that is her lover’s. Ask: How does my love have Montana’s cell?

She’s running to Kinko’s. Making hard copies of nudeinmirror.jpg
hardonveranda.jpg

She’s tearing up photos to tear up his body. Like pins in voodoo. A part of the whole. She’s tearing up photos, shot telephoto. Left his profile defiled on side of the road.
Track Name: Network
Every single night go to shows. Texting on the john at your job. Waiting room at the hospital.

Love to get to love you but show me what’s your net worth?

Network.

Reception at your Aunt’s funeral. Status updating while you die. Every single night DIY.
Track Name: Major Amberson
Was the first time that he noticed the stone pillar marking the entrance was removed. His name was removed too. Was the first time that he noticed.

Was the first time that she noticed he’s never raising his hand up to salute. He’s always wiping his forehead. Was the first time that she noticed.

Thinking.

Developers use music and color. Elements evoking beauty and the arts to provide an illusion of individualized happiness.

Was the first time that he noticed.
Track Name: Your Brand Could Be Our Life
You’ve got something about you. You’re right to hit the target market with that rock and roll. Gonna help us reach our quarterly goal. For Corporation.

Rock and Roll. Corporation. We’re taking over.

You’ve got something about you. You’re gonna win a lifetime supply of DIY with that rock and roll.

Pay that autobahn jangle pop toll for corporation. Rock and Roll Corporation. It’s taking over the nation.

Dicks got soft in bed. Bought Jazzmasters instead for frustration. Rising from that Solid State station.
Track Name: Notoriety
I don’t want to care about what I am going to wear tonight. I’ll wrap myself in peacock feathers, never mind the weather.

I’ll steal a look from Bowie, Georgie, Byron, brand from Vice Noisey.

I’m lusting after Notoriety.

I don’t believe in human rights. I just can’t keep it in my pants. What’s the point of rock stars if they fail to make your cock hard?

And when I go to Slackgaze shows the straight boys always hit on me.

I’m lusting after Notoriety.
Track Name: Set The Controls for the Heart of the Drum --> Ode to Drum
Northside highrise APTs. Stick up like rack toms. Lights flick off and on. Lights flick off and on. Looks like Denver skyline. All this glass.

In the lobby they found the body. Was it Denver, CO or Abu Dhabi?

It was North Six.

A DIY yuppie parks SUV. Tape is cranked. Backs up into me. Blasts “Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun.”
Pot: Set your controls for the heart of the drum.
Drum.

////

The most widespread, sacred, ritually significant musical instrument. Wrap it in skin. Beat it with a stick. That’s a phallic instrument.

Ode to drum. Oh to drum.

Glass dome drum. Crash to ride income for the N. Side peddlers. Skyline flicks embers. Dhabi domes shine just like Denver.

Mr. Shelldrake I never meant to come on so strong. You rode my elevator and now I’m signing your song. Your silver cold hardware has left indentions on my arm. Your double kick pattern has done me harm.
Track Name: 16x9
O girl. You’re on the streets flashing pearls. You make my stomach curl. Tapping your Teutonic thighs. Spinning records in your eyes. Dizzy when I cuffed you. Saw your eyes in the rearview. You said you love the flashing lights. Said you were not afraid to die. O girl.

And your friend Victoria with a loft in Astoria.
What is her secret? What the fuck does she keep in it? ’Cause some priceless china is missing from the Met. And two blonde girls were seen kissing on the steps. I know that was you two. Come on. I know that was you. O girl.

I’ve been waiting to catch you, to have a reason to talk to you. ’Cause your hair shines in the New York snow. Shines past the pond, the park, and the road.

A missing El Greco. Why do the cops not show? Shine on.

O girl. I told her no one’ll ever know. In my cab on that Park Ave. snow. No.
Track Name: THIS
Don’t do that. Please don’t.
Hold up squires replacing fertile.
Remember to enter the placenta center.
Belly dancers feel your soul.

Blake exhaust.
Crisscross.
Berlin was Kate Moss.

Anger tells us when to drop.
Golden ratios negotiate.
And then prophets were praying.
The Yins they were Yanging.
Monday’s empty bowling lanes.

Moss.
Track Name: Yuppie Take a Cab
Wall street woman just steps onto (4) train. Grits her teeth at Bowling Green man. “Will you please not breathe or stand close to me?” “Miss. Where would you prefer that I stand?”

Hey yuppie. Next time it might be best to take a cab. Hey yuppie. I think you’ve got the bread to take a cab.

She starts to settle down. She’s eating from a bag of Crumbs. She’s got the Beatles (1) on her smartphone. She’s really getting turned on.

Everyone on train is also looking at smartphones or looking at smartphones on the ads. Wall Street woman pulls out second smartphone. She’s taking pics of all smartphone ads.

Now she is driving a cycle. She’s really racking up points. Until she bumps into Bowling Green Man again. ‘Miss you’re spilling all of your Crumbs.’

Take a cab.
Track Name: Tarkovski
You said take me to the zone. You said you want a rail ride, I know you really don’t. Pay me with a time loan. You said you want a ride but I know you really don’t.

Cause you never ask for what you really want. Antique fountainhead lid is on a pot. When candles blow you better keep your eyes closed.

And that will take you to the zone.

You said take me to the zone. You said you want hardcore, I know you really don’t. Your ski slope’s overblown. You want to save time but I know you really don't.

’Cause theory never gets at what you really want. You never can escape motivation or a plot. What mirrors show you better keep exposed.

And that will take you to the zone.

You were charmed by Sculpting in Time. Changed your whole paradigm and now you won’t change your mind.
Track Name: Second Row Center
I criticized you for sleeping in the cinema, but I was sleeping too. The people on the screen and the room behind us didn’t know what to do.

I was paid to start stalking a man across from your view. I had to save you from the chain gang whose steam train passed through. Went downtown to meet his right hand. I was the front man in that bar band. I was the drummer, too. But all I saw is you were wearing blue.

I criticized you for sleeping in the cinema, but I was sleeping too. If no one sees it nothing happened—nothing happened to you.

It seemed I was being stalked by a man. I went west for clues. Hid in the theater from the FBI. They print my face in the news. I see you set me with that con man. He was the sax in that hotel lounge band. He was piano too. He found me out ’cause I was staring at you.

I criticized you for sleeping the cinema, but I was sleeping too. Went to the river where the scene was staged and threw your flower in the blue.

Espresso kiss on European mouths.
They feel guilty. They feel movies.
Track Name: N.A.S.S.
New Age Spineless Sophists. Ask me for my sign. You spoke to a mystic for fifty. She said “I bet you sleep all the time.”

Rickenback. Teardrop. Sixties signified. No spine but you’re oh so dignified. You’re so dignified.

Dignified.
I dig no-fi.

There’s no context. There’s no subtext to the scene. Blonde blogger has crush on singer. Blonde blogger clicks. Points finger. Blonde blogger plays Frogger with the singer and…

CRUSH.
POW.

New age spineless sophists.
There’s no referent with these signs.
These are the Sign O’ the Times.
They say these are the Sign O’ the Times.

These outfits rock and pop. Legion from the Sweat Shop. Psych pop for the clothes shop. For the browsing of tank tops. High brows in a tank top. It’s the new age of the spine soft.
Track Name: Brancusi Brainwash Birds
Mouthwash matters more.
Brancusi Brainwash Birds.
Revolving rat hair. Revolting rat.
Brancusi Brainwash Birds.

Blue blue bibliophile.
Fill father’s funnel.
Frenchmen fear Fear.
Belgians brew beer.

Brancusi Brainwash Birds.
Track Name: XVII
Statues crumbling around the crown.
Breadcrumbs trailing to the chamber down.
Brunettes with daddy issues take pills.
She will not come when you’re tugging on her steering wheel.

And I’ll keep it up.
I’m your
highness.

This has never happened before. Don’t know what’s going on. Please don’t look at your King that way.

Guards:
Chastity belt is wrapped around the Queen.
Ascend to the roof for private feathering.
Prepare your arms. Prepare for war.
Afar the czar will hear my cannon’s roar.

And I’ll keep it up.
I’m your highness.

He was just XVII. You know what that means.

This has only happened once before. Don’t know what’s going wrong. How can I perform if you just stare?

Guards:
Send that overcooked cook to the guillotine.
Lackluster jester to the guillotine.
He relies on V.O.
He relies on flashback.
I’d send my son in you back.
Would be XVIII.
Straight from the sack right to the rack.
Track Name: Adaptation of The Truth About Marie
Rain falls on glass pane. It’s 4 AM. You call to say,
“This is the end.” This is the end.

Train to your doorstep. That’s where I first saw him and where he met his end. On a stretcher they pushed him.

And the rain lights up your face. I asked, “Is that what’s-his-name?” But I really knew his name.

Wine glass on concrete. T-shirt to your knees, and it floats all over your skin. Like goosebumps over your skin.

Stairs to your bedroom. Had a finger inside of you on the wall but that was the end. Never inside her again.

And the rain lights up your face. You told me about what’s-his-name and I admitted that I knew his name.

Blood on the floor where he passed out.
Blood on the finger in my mouth.
I’m the third person in your scene.
I’m always the first person in my dreams.
Always the first person in my dreams.
Track Name: Memphis (Perfect Teeth)
You always do just what you’re told. You’re an over-priced Bed-Stuy basement growing mold. You think that you’re Stanley Kubrick but you’re just boring and cold. Yeah you always do just what you’re told.
Track Name: Cultural Consumer I
Post-Grad, walking down the aisle.
Card swiped
and he’s stacking up his pile.
He spends all his family’s money
reading tomes on The Fall of Rome.

Cultural consumer. Culture is consumed.
Cultural Consumer.
Artifact consumer.

Refined coffee table book style.
Barnes No. Member bibliophile.
Q: How many 33 1/3’s
would you have to publish every quarter to please the cultural consumer?

10,000 plays and books you must read before you die.
No love life.
He never gets out much.
He’s running out of time.
Track Name: Cultural Consumer II
I can’t believe in the fact that you’ve never heard that. I can’t believe in the fact that you’ve never even heard of that?! Whole oeuvre is BitTorrenting now. Later is bliss, but you’d better start from the beginning.

They didn’t use to do this number.
I’ve never even heard them do this one.

I once had an experience like no other:
On downers and uppers was dosing in front of Last Supper. Public sex in 11th Century Byzantine Macedonian.
Blood like Dionysus.
Like Lord Henry from Dorian.
No No No No
Don’t tell me that you’ve never even read that?!
You call yourself a lover of letters but you’ve never even come across that?!

Well I wish I was in your shoes.
You get to experience this all for the first time.
Track Name: Cultural Consumer III
China trip in a Zip.
(Go)
LaGuardia via SoHo.
I was getting dome on the highway.
I saw the dome of the Barclay.
That’s what I call real love.
Suck me like real love.
With China⇒Rider⇒ Straw.
Mixed with Peel Classical.

The Billboard Reads:

CULTURE. CONSUME.
CONSUME.

Got Chinese workflow.
Generally Tso-Tso.
Zen retreat leave from Taipei,
I saw D. Lama at Barclay’s.
That’s what I call real love.
Gluten-free real love.
And I got news for you all:
The cult. consumer was Paul.
Track Name: Cultural Consumer IV
When I think about the time that I wasted, to cultivate the myriad tastes that I’ve tasted, I compare myself to you.

I feel inadequate, and that’s the truth.

You’re my more experienced lover and I’ll never catch up to your numbers. Sacher-Masoch to De Sade.
There’s not a dirty book that gives you a shock.

You have surpassed me by so far with your insights to Jean Renoir. I was familiar with Whirpool to Game. Thought post-1940 it was more of the same but you showed me that wasn’t true.

Born on the day of unsolicited opinions. Astrologically I’m just what you’d expect. But lately I’ve been nurturing a taste for what I’d normally reject.
Track Name: Cultural Consumer V: Born by What is Consumed
Way atop the movie stack, a wise man said;

Art is artifice.

Naturalism is not natural.

Use theory to bypass good taste which is no thing but a taste for mediocrity. Neither Cezanne nor Van Gogh had good taste.

In this place there’s too much status quo.

That's not blood that’s red. A wise man said. The best way to pierce the head is with a well-placed period.