Get all 29 Bob Gaulke releases available on Bandcamp and save 40%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of The Better Of, Warm Blue Noise, Studies in Transgression, One Last Shot, Strawberry Fields, The Humanities (Part 2), The Humanities (Part 1), Inappropriate, and 21 more.
Excludes subscriber-only releases.
1. |
NY is a Bone (version)
03:04
|
|||
New York is a Bone
Out to meet a friend in outer space
I call him and say I’ve worn out my name
On walls and faces in voices and streets
In too many situations not of my making
I’m feeling so much better after a smoke and drink
Cuts and scars are blotted in ink
Tourists with headaches cattle in taxis
Eight million hands writing one story
New York is a bone carved on a stone
Worn through your nose scratching your soul
Out to meet a friend for a little comedy
She calls and says she’s living the dream
In meetings at parties in clubs and limousines
Touching lives of quality
I’m feeling so much better then she disappears
Into her phone, billboards, and mirrors
I want to see my time hold it my hands
Everything at once is shaken in a glass
Home for the evening the phone rings
The voice of your mom asks how’s everything
“It couldn’t be better it’s moving
thanks for the letter and the money”
I’m feeling so much better inside my window
Music covers shouting below
Four thousand cupcakes an ocean of milk
Eight million paper plates in the same bin
|
||||
2. |
Stranger at the Party
02:32
|
|||
Stranger at the Party
Seems to know someone
Smiling at the hostess
Not moving from the punch
Cornering cupcakes
Nodding approval
Snorting news relayed
Hoovering removal
Of the salmon paté
Stranger at the party swallowing bodies
Aiming righteous anger between their legs
She’s come in late
Caught in the rain
Straight to the kitchen
For a plate
Thrice-gifted wine
Making up lost time
“Pass the joint-
Your thumb’s flambéed”
Hostess brings coats
At half-past four
Stains on the floor
Must be the last straw
|
||||
3. |
Cat Samba
01:45
|
|||
Cat Samba
Swear by the count
He’s gone past ten
You'd be wrong
Time and time again
Watch him jump
Tree to tree to tree
Hear the cans roll
Down the street
None of my business
What he's in
Just a witness
To shenanigans
Where he's gone
I wouldn't hazard a guess
He always seems
To bury his mess
Kitties in the hood
Bring ‘em birds
Wrapped in leaves
The cat always lands
On his feet
Down a sewer pipe
Up a dead end
Swipin’ fish
Swingin’ that tail
Followed by dogs
Not his friends
Everyone wants
His business sense
Staying cool
Despite the dread
Keeping that beat
Between his legs
Shaking nine lives
Like a bell
Arching his back
Everyone’s still
Between the trap and mouse
Poison and the roach
Patient and the couch
There's an understanding
Your luck will run out
You’ll be there for the count
When the man cues up
The heavy strings
D | C | G | A
G | A
|
||||
4. |
Only the Doorman Knows
03:33
|
|||
5. |
Saved Valentines
02:23
|
|||
Saved Valentines (A major-ish)
I don't fall for schemes, plastic dreams
Few people go below the packaging
Phones fit nicely in our hands
They don't come with conversations
In this city there's a place I know
Where people let their feelings show
At least for a couple of drinks
Everything's revealed
On Valentine's Day I was saved
On Valentine's Day it all changed
It only takes one and your heart's undone
Too late to wonder what you've become
Saint Valentine was a friend of mine
Breathing poetry on the lower east side
Whispering things unsaid
When I needed to be read
In this city nothing sticks
'til it comes at you between the ribs
Your heart's so hungry for it
Once you've had it, you never forget it
|
||||
6. |
Mutual Savings
03:31
|
|||
Mutual Savings (E lydian minor)
I saved you from that guy from talking suicide
I don’t think he was worth the Netflix renewal
You saved me from myself; tinder girls as well
Who kept me out well past my curfew
We spent our savings on each other
Although we were never lovers
Comrades in a life stuck in fast-forward
We blew it on vacations, wine, and overnight shipments
I’ll save you from this boredom without a name
Seeing millions making the same mistakes
You’ll save me from a fatalism biblical in depth
Suggesting there’s been no progress thousands of tears since
We spent our savings in a single moment
As soon as we realized we could never own it
We spent our savings on one last bar of chocolate
I licked your fingers then we climbed that hill
|
||||
7. |
Island of Men (version)
04:03
|
|||
Island of Men
You left me on the Island of Men
Me and four guys that can't swim
We feast on your memory with pieces of fruit cake
We remember your skin
Rubbing our hands in fits
It's phosphorescent in our minds
It burns an obscure fire
Spending the night rolling cigarettes
Sucking butts to the lipstick
Taking turns with your dress
Putting a fold in the photograph
You left me on the Island of Men
The silence abuses your memory
Nothing's left of the tin
I’ve become the fruitcake
We've got ugly routines
We use to pass the time
Reenacting painful scenes
Pretending to solve emotional crimes/
Kevin takes me out on your birthday
Robbie takes off your glasses to kiss me—
There's nothing like Parris Island
In the springtime
I remember Christmas
Rafael's playing Jesus
Making love to your stereo
Ryan wears the leotard
Ultimately we know why we're here
But not when
We'll ever be trusted around women again
|
||||
8. |
Disco Nomads (version)
04:10
|
|||
Disco Nomads
You were made for dancing
There's nothing else you need
Reason don't travel
Beneath your feet
Philosophy's senseless
Poets are weak
Internet's useless
Money's just not funky
Come up go down
Day in and out
From your soles to the clouds
Turn your insides out
Tension builds
With nowhere to go
You've read about it
Now feel the love
Running always running,
That's so obsolete
The body takes over
Now you're complete
Cut off from above
We've been on our own too long
Can't remember where we're going
Or where in fact we're from
Following a distant star
Into a poorly lit bar
Matching scars with disco nomads
Making love with gin and scotch
|
||||
9. |
||||
Sharpening Knives
The job paid eight dollars an hour
In a dark room filled with shiny things
They cut the lights, saving power
Me and a hundred men that didn’t speak
A blade over flint on a conveyor
Two in a minute pointed and clean
Polishing metal to a sharp edge
For cutting and slicing meat
Sharpening knives sharpening knives
That’s what I did with my life
Sharpening knives sharpening knives
That’s how I survived
There's a rhythm louder and faster
There's a rhythm that cuts your head
The sound of two hundred hands desperate
Heat and sparks like creation itself
Drunk on the sound, the pounding of metal
Intoxicating slavery
Like a love that stays on too long
Something cut out the heart of me
I woke one morning unable to move
I woke one morning unable to speak
Sounds had filled me with fear
Standing up made me weak
I haven’t worked since then
I rely on my wits and the generosity of women
Sometimes I wonder what I've done with myself
Other times I’m glad I survived
|
||||
10. |
Handfuls
03:30
|
|||
Handfuls
You go to that place too much
But never get quite drunk enough
To pull yourself out of yourself
Start by being cynical
You'll wind up an asshole
All alone texting at the table
Tact's never gotten me far
Only so many bed's in the hospital
Start on those people over there
They're as bored and ugly as you are
Try to have a good time
Forget what's on your mind
Sing and dance for a while
Although it's so painful
Recipes for falling down
Are in short supply
I've got handfuls
You've got to be rude politeness won't do
Tomorrow we die fast or slow we can't rely
On miracles of science to prolong this boredom
Don't hide your pleasures where you can't find them
Night fever's coming on your brain's useless in the dark
Hold something now tight enough to make sparks
Meteors are streaking volcanoes are exploding
You'll be preserved in stone picking your nose
No matter how desperate you are there's someone lower level
Who admires your clothes
There’s a saying at the cemetery days above ground are good days
Soon we'll be going so say what you're gotta say
|
Bob Gaulke
SInger/Songwriter/
Rootless cosmopolitan. I sometimes produce others.
Streaming and Download help
Bob Gaulke recommends:
If you like Bob Gaulke, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp