Running the Badwater

by UPHOLSTERY

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03:14
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06:19
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02:31
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02:36
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12.
03:32

about

[what we wear is wrapped in heat]

credits

released 24 May 2014

cast:
KATE BLACK-REGAN · vocals, ukulele
JEREMY PROUTY · vocals, guitar
JOHN WILDER · bass, vocals
COREY MARK · drums, percussion, vocals, rain stick
DORIE BYRNE · accordion, trombone, vocals, flute, organ, bicycle

special guests:
C. KENNEDY · vocals, violin
DAN BLACKSBERG · trombone
KEVIN HOLLAND · vocals

Recorded at the Sex Dungeon in West Philadelphia, August 2013
Mastered by West West Side Music (NYC)
Album art by Femi Olatunji

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about

UPHOLSTERY Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Upholstery has been churning out its unique blend of surrealist pop and off-kilter jazz since 2007. In addition to performing and organizing high-energy, multimedia rock show, Uph also provides live scores for theatrical works. Like granny's favorite davenport, Uph maintains a distinct sensibility for leathery integrity and peculiar - albeit comforting - odors. ... more

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Track Name: Running the Badwater
What we WEAR

THAT’S why I RUN, BABY
BUT if YOU do IT with ME
I won’t be HAVING a DOWN time
on PAVEMENT with grainy veins
is WHERE we DO our THING

What we WEAR is WRAPPED in HEAT

We must RACE THE STRANGE race
POURING OVER the falls
DURING the START, we START again
POURING OVER the falls

What we WEAR is WRAPPED in HEAT
Track Name: Concrete Diamond
I always block Concrete Diamond just before she leaves the stage.
She says she’s free and she's got those items that I crave.
But I know she’s headed to George Holmes’ home
Cause he’s got them items that she craves.

My grip on Diamond has always been the loosest,
she slips like mercury through my fist.
I tell her, ‘God will always be there’.
And Diamond whispers, ‘but Jesus Kums & Gos.’

The oak didn’t open. The oak did not open for four hours or more.
por cuatro horas.
Oh well, Neosho was a no-show.
Prom was in overtime and I was overprimed.
Esperando en la Quinta, so I slow dance.
The slow dance, solo. (It was so-so)

Change your life, not your wife.

Too late, out of range, out of line. Out on the road,
I make one last ditch effort with Gretchen Schlotzky.
I think I spotted her yellow rig down at the Truck-o-Mat.
She says she’s on her way to Vinita with a bed
half-load of mackerel and half of fishscale - what a wildcat.
I climb up in her cabin as that yellow seeps into my veins,
turning my blood orange as I chart my course for my final flight.
credits
Track Name: Dead Red Med
Meat me in Death Valley
in the Valley of the Dead
we’ll pay a train, plane & shipping fee
where the east meats west
to the lowest point not under the sea
without getting the rental wet
watch as the waves start to creep
of the Red, Med, Dead

As the levees’ walls start to ease
accusations of leavened bread
as the sea breeze gains speed
taking foe, taking friend
as seaweed graces the nativity
not a dry hand to lend
and the dark cube recedes
the great thirst is quenched

Phytoplankton dance in the grotto’s arch
three gods sit
the land where the throat's no longer parched
damp and trembling
where the mad men had marched
where the mad men marched

It was a friday
and they were on their knees
it was a saturday
and they were on their feet
it was a sunday
and they were in their pews, on their feet
and, at times, on their knees

and what if in your sacred text there was
no mention of this sunset?
would you mash it in?
would you simply outlaw it?
would you obstruct them?
explain it away with them?!
off with its head with them?!
sacrifice the sacred with them?!
flush them away with them?!
flush them all away!
where the mad men marched
Track Name: Videogame Terrain [interlude]
it looks like a video game terrain

rolling down the mountain
cursed, down for the countin'
mount sinai is the mountain
flesh flowing like a fountain

its dark outside but it’ s so hot
i think i may need my life jacket
the dozers are rumbling low
you just get used to the racket
Track Name: Biker Sweater
girl i like you so much better
when you're on your bicycle
in your tight-knit sweater

boy i want to marry you
when you’re on your bicycle
sporting that thigh tattoo

oh i find you so much cuter
when you’re on your bicycle
and not your vespa scooter

boy i think you're so hot
when you're on your bicycle
and not that broken-down passat

boy you really get me going
when you're on your bicycle
with that tattoo showing

girl you make me so wet
when you're on your bicycle
and not your ugly red corvette

oh i want to marry you
when you’re on your bicycle
sporting that thigh tattoo
Track Name: The E.L.O.
(aka Elongated Lever Orientation)

the mellotron measures the melodies of major surgeries & sheep
it pushed the sonic outro into a mondo distortion beat
left behind only the sound of soma in the walls
tainted and stained like a dimensionless bathroom stall

in the 11th dimension the ELO was fixed upon a mixalydian big muff.
probing with its octaver, the ELO searched for code.
having reached the coda, it started again,
having started again, its efforts were cinderful
(the feeling of passing cinders over an overpass)
we pass under a moonbow. strange – always gone.

we keep searching from dimension to dimension
for that ultimate invention
THE MELODRAMATIC MELLOTRON!

i was in my quarters flanging
(removing lint from flannel)
when I heard the news of the tacet – yet explicit – silverfuck
sure enough, two space dolphins half-stepping on a ghost bend
until one pulled off
The show was cut short by a red cape
‘low rumbling sounds have been reported.’
…THE MELLOTRON!

a cloak of ritardando fell over this fair crew
this was it. the big cheese. the big italian cheese.
no time for legato - we made a glissando towards the mellotron

we keep searching from dimension to dimension
for that ultimate invention
THE MELODRAMATIC MELLOTRON!

the air filled with microtones, and death permenated
all up in our knickers
and the last song we heard was the trill of the swallowing frog

say goodbye to coconino
Track Name: Petting Pudding
Pulses. Endotoxins.
Toiletries. Tid-bits. It’s Not Going anywhere.
Purses. Undulations.
Doilies. Dipshits. It’s Not Going anywhere.
Putting on Entertaining notions.
Tidal forces. Total farces. It’s Not Going anywhere.

Putting Up undermining portions.
Dilated scores. Dilapidated arches.
It’s Not Going anywhere.

Putting on the ritz. Erlenmeyer & sr. jacques
Take to the streets Take to the crock
ING
Putting down the heat Ursula & epsilon, jr.
Dish out the dirty digs Dish out the frocks
ING
Putting on a face Edith & missus magdalene
Tear it all to bits Tear off their socks
ING
Putting up with who can say Umberto & elijah
Dig in for the final leg Dig up what is meant for docks
PETTING PUDDING
Dig up what is meant for docks
PETTING PUDDING
Dig up what is meant for dags
Track Name: Videogame Terrain
it looks like a video game terrain

rolling down the mountain
cursed, down for the countin'
mount sinai is the mountain
flesh flowing like a fountain

its dark outside but it’ s so hot
i think i may need my life jacket
the dozers are rumbling low
you just get used to the racket
Track Name: Meat & Greet
Murder! Eastern Antarctica trembles. Another numb doppelganger gutted recklessly. Eskimo entrails topple maniacally.
Eskimos? Antarctica? Tomfoolery!
Antioch needed dirt – grimy, ripe evidence.
Everything’s taking more energy and time. Arbitrary nuisances distract, grate, restrict. Extinguished echoes tingle my ears.
All through Antarctica, news demanded gasps. Rich, elderly, educated, tourists, mothers, everyone accepted the agoraphobic’s needy delirium.
Goddamned reason’s evaporated. Entire towns meetin’ eternity at the altar. Nine dames got rubbed - erased. Earlier this month, eleven anonymous tanners awoke neatly dead.
Grand relocations. Eskimo Exodus.
That meant Eastern Antarctica tended all nations. Dry grazing ranges employed enough that migrating envoys attended the area.
Now debilitating genocide rambled effortlessly, eagerly. The masses eagerly asking the authorities about next-of-kin details.
Gory. Repulsive.
Experience Eastern terror.
Maudlin, embittered Antioch toiled acridly, never dreaming, gaining raw evidence. Embattled topography meted endless arguments to abandon niceties, demanding: Garrote ‘round evils esophagus.
Massacre.
Even Antioch, the assistant necrotic detective, got red-eyed envisioning the monstrously evil acts.
Time’s almost nigh.
Death’s germinating rapidly, even…
…even tonight.
Now, dusk gathers rime, eager evening tenderly mends eyelids. All’s threatening.
And now, during guards’ rounds, enters the mess: Eskimo Annihilator. Trembling, Antioch now defies graciousness:
Rot.
Eat excrement.
Terminate, mutherfucker.
Easily, almost tenderly, Antioch now dies – gasping, reeling, …ending.
Easy, throat-slit.
Track Name: Lakes Absorb
lakes absorb ~
And Keep Ever Silent
A Brutal Still Violence Oppressed her Breath
lakes absorb ~
A Kind Earth’s Still Alive
But Something Occurred...Right Below

screws adhere ~
Rambunctious Ebari
We Should’ve Departed
How Evil, Raki’s End.
screws adhere ~
Death Hunted Expertly, Ravaging Everything
Even Breath

tears efface ~
Eclipsing Aromas
Ransacked and Suffocating
Raki's Friend
tears efface ~
Awful Smoke Rolling.
Covered in Ebony Fog Fell
Track Name: The Badwater Basin
The BASIN was yet unnamed
Yet at its LOWEST LEVEL, lived the unnamed
AT its widest, it’s HOTTEST, at its HOTTEST, its lowest
The DEGREES rarely, barely fluctuate

What we WEAR is WRAPPED in HEAT

MAGNIFICIENT, AWE-INSPIRING
COMPLETE with SCORPIONS
FINISH with a SIDE of PTERODACTYLS
Mere FEET aWAY
STARING, starving
They WANTED ME
or are ALL they
or are ALL they
or are ALL they
ALLUCINÆS??!

What we WEAR is WRAPPED in HEAT
Track Name: Eddie's Song
He's as empty as a school bus on a Sunday in August
She's as lonely as a hammer in a church bell in a mosque
He's as happy as some bubble gum in the front teeth of a four-year old
And I float just like a rug
And I'd like to give you a hug

She's as frightened as an infant kitten in a shoebox on the shoulder
He's as frantic as the fly that followed the fumes just to find itself on fire
She's as happy as some bubble gum in the front teeth of a four-year old
And I buzz just like a bug
And I like to give you a hug

He's as uncomfortable as my left testicle
down the right leg of my tight pants on my bicycle
She's as deflated, diffused and defeated as the bread dough
that I kneaded and proceeded to drop
Flop
Right through the hole in the floor
And I float just like a rug
And we buzz just like two bugs
And I like to give you a hug
And I swear it’s not the drugs