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####M/. .:H, :#: +########/ The Van Pelt - Sultans of Sentiment =#
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###- -#####X@###H #####= /########/ Artist..: The Van Pelt =#
###= ;XM#######X M####= /########/ Title..: Sultans of Sentiment =#
###+ :%#####X M####= /########/ Label..: Gern Blandsten Records =#
####; -M###X M####= /########/ Genre..: Indie =#
#####X:. /###X M####= /########/ Year..: 1998 =#
########H/ -###X M####= /########/ URL..: www.southern.com/southern/band/VANPT/ =#
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#####MHXXH########MMM######MMMMMMMM###/ Quality..: 192kbps/44,1kHz =#
######################################/ Mode..: Full Stereo =#
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####M;.RELEASE NOTES: .;M#
####/ ABOUT: /#
####/ The second and final full-length release from the Van Pelt is really so good that it /#
####/ makes their breakup one of the most painful aspects of listening to the record. Their /#
####/ formula works brilliantly on this ten-track CD, with Chris Leo's grueling spoken /#
####/ vocals clearly paving the way for the evocative rock the rest of the band contributes. /#
####/ Over climaxing guitars and airy build-ups, Leo's abstract musings brim with emotion /#
####/ and, on tracks like "We Are the Heathens" and "Let's Make a List," his creative /#
####/ wording gives amazing credibility to his thoughts on social outsiders and the business /#
####/ of teaching. The arrangements are still pretty heavy on this record, unlike some of /#
####/ the more arty restrained rock on his later releases with the Lapse, and the band is as /#
####/ unafraid to rock out as Leo is to bring himself to the sort of unrestrained and /#
####/ slightly unmusical screams that give true feeling to "Don't Make Me Walk My Own Log." /#
####/ The Van Pelt aren't for everyone, and Leo certainly has the ability to drive some /#
####/ listeners crazy with his often monotonic mumbles, but the odd combination of subtle /#
####/ oddities are enough to make this a standout record from a standout band. No matter /#
####/ where you stand on the nuances of their craft, there's no denying that they do what /#
####/ they do in a smart and original way. /#
####/ AWESOME!!! /#
####/ /#
####/ /#
####/ /#
####/ LYRICS: /#
####/ Nanzen Kills A Cat /#
####/ There it is, plain and simple. It destroyed itself without any of my slander. This is /#
####/ the lunacy by which we kneel. This is the doublespeak by which we kill. This is the /#
####/ inertia that keeps tradition feared. This is the absurdity by which we walk barefoot /#
####/ with shoes on our heads. Ponder this to get nearer to Nothing. On top of the world, /#
####/ think about it, there's Nothing. An unseasoned meal, monotone spirits, routine homily. /#
####/ Nothing has never been clearer. So kill a cat to keep logic at bay, then eat my body's /#
####/ finest and fell me how it tastes. Is it Nothing too? Does it stink like Nothing? Does /#
####/ it poison like Nothing? /#
####/ /#
####/ The Good, The Bad & The Blind /#
####/ Was it right when it made the germ that would have put you away before the vaccine? /#
####/ Like the x-ray that pinpointed the break and showed us the baby before it was too /#
####/ late? Before the meater turns toxic in our tubes beware the "fittest and the cycle" /#
####/ that too often turns a stalemate. Crucify our brother Edison. Sacrifice to the New /#
####/ Mysticism. Smash the bulbs that lengthen the day. Grind up the pills that took the /#
####/ fever away. Behold the monsoons and the river snakes! /#
####/ /#
####/ Yamato (Where People Really Die) /#
####/ If the question's asked when the kid is innocent and the answer's plain because you're /#
####/ not into it, the line is drawn and your unenlightened son will go forth with a wealth /#
####/ of misinformation. His day has come if it's on the tube. Put him in real time, it'll /#
####/ do him good. Make him realize that continuum between ignorance and childhood. Shield /#
####/ nothing. Let him breathe, let him see. When the kid can't breathe from fear of the /#
####/ mystery, please keep in mind the good you've designed. And when the bell rings at noon /#
####/ of new concern, try not to act surprised when the epithet cries, "my mother lies! my /#
####/ eyes aren't blind! my life's a line!" Though this is another disease and we cry when /#
####/ understanding is reached, this is what fostering means. It will all be over soon. /#
####/ /#
####/ My Bouts With Pouncing /#
####/ I keep it right here; in touch but not near. The threat keeps me moving - on toes with /#
####/ my fear. Here reason is clearest, emotion's controlled, my drive here is fiercest, but /#
####/ it's too temporal. To the slightest degree my blanace is off, my mind's a new me and /#
####/ relativity is lost. Too close bring fatigue, sickness need not fight. My might stares /#
####/ beyond you; come on, it's locked in fright. These nerves have all passed /#
####/ out--overwhelmed by a greater force. They know it will beat them. Kill me now, the /#
####/ waiting's worse. It's these times when my sheets stay damp for weeks and my shoulders /#
####/ still break out, and my sneakers still shake. And it's hard to get away. To /#
####/ acknowledge makes it stay, and my wallowing builds on my wallowing state. But the day /#
####/ down, the pressure is great. The snap of the panic can sned me like light beyond where /#
####/ I'm stable, below where I'm right. Romance here is strongers; I am brave, at least /#
####/ tonight. The urge has been pushed back so far, I am bold. I'm blind to its warnings /#
####/ and I can stand like I'm told. Too far makes me shallow--no scare to keep me straight. /#
####/ I'm selfless with glory. I'm an idiot when I've lost sight. It's here I make promises /#
####/ to be delivered while we sleep. I'm the man that the book made-the stupid zealot of /#
####/ the week. My bouts with pouncing, my stints with might. /#
####/ /#
####/ Don't Make Me Walk My Own Log /#
####/ I've said my goodbyes. I'm closing my eyes. These good things don't stay. It's time /#
####/ she's going away. Keep your hands away. We were fine before you came. Have your bones /#
####/ begun to ache? You're running out of time. Messing with my turf. This time you've gone /#
####/ too far. No more gentle touch, she's blind to her bad luck. Sleep with me tonight. One /#
####/ last time is alright. These good things don't stay. It's time. She's going away. /#
####/ /#
####/ The Young Alchemists /#
####/ I took a dive down, and in disbelief my goals were realized south in the sea. One /#
####/ hundred feet from shore is infinity, potentially. The reds weren't far off with the /#
####/ man machine. When they replaced the ceilings of the Sistine, when they took all the /#
####/ icons off the wall that made them strong. Heaven holds no reverence for the clock. It /#
####/ denies the doctor's probes and electric shocks. It suggests there's more to learn /#
####/ beyond our block. Let's keep that lot. Can we trade the mystic for the scientific, and /#
####/ keep the dogmas that will keep us with it? I'd trade in all my trophies for the one /#
####/ the coral's got. Let us mourn the dead as they deserve, for all is lost to them and /#
####/ nothing less. While we accept the cycle that does them in, we are their kin. We keep /#
####/ the cultures fresh with an ingredient that keeps the skin from smelling at the wake. /#
####/ Can't it preserve the beating of my heart? We hold the spark. So to the lab tomorrow. /#
####/ Wield my soul against the corporate pull and moral code, 'till the twilight comes I /#
####/ will stay gold. I will stay gold. /#
####/ /#
####/ We Are The Heathens /#
####/ Goodbye child. You were born an American, though you'll never see its shores again. /#
####/ Your formula has been traded for a case to knock down at noon, but I remember you as I /#
####/ kick aside the lychee pits outside my door, as they drag their feet and never cease to /#
####/ stare, as I carefully place my steps, avoiding kittens and phlegm on my way up to /#
####/ Delancy. We are the psychos, the pathetic, the quitters, the all time losers. We are /#
####/ the cretins, uncivilized millions, second rate human begins. We are the heathens. /#
####/ Though all their origins change they all pass through Hester Street. We all have. I /#
####/ would not have put my money on his horse, but it's won anyhow and send it's /#
####/ competitors into shock. Yield to the Mongol Hordes! Flee from the Celtic roar! Set /#
####/ sail for the foamy shores. The heathens have won again. /#
####/ /#
####/ Pocket of Pricks /#
####/ The mindset and drive of the Phildelphians will forever remain a mystery to me, but /#
####/ the framework has been irrevocably set because no group is strong enough to conquer /#
####/ the rest. We are the multi-fascisted state. Come gather bread for your plate, and a /#
####/ car for every driveway and an impasse for your hate. We are the bastard offspring of /#
####/ generalissimos Mao and Mussolini. We are the "save my own ass" special interest /#
####/ strikers from Zion to Tirana. There is a loop in our scripture that lets every voice /#
####/ be heard. Don't point fingers at me, ma'am, it's you who finds this absurd. Talk to /#
####/ the politicians Ayatollah Mulvaney. Choose your direction well and you'll receive it's /#
####/ pity. Then join us all on Capitol Hill as a quarter-billion "Me!"s sing Democracy, /#
####/ well... /#
####/ /#
####/ Let's Make A List /#
####/ Let's make a list so we can feel like we're accomplishing something, so we can feel /#
####/ like we're working together. Let's sit in a circle adding to the list as we move /#
####/ around the room, one by one. As you make a suggestion, begin sternly - you take no /#
####/ shit - to give credence to your semi-constructed argument. Tomorrow we'll wonder where /#
####/ this generation gets its priorities from. Tomorrow my heart will skip a beat, as it /#
####/ does every morning nine months of the year. It has to do with this list. Before the /#
####/ bells even ring. Before the hair is even combed. Will the approach ever change or will /#
####/ it begin as I've said and end with a lighthearted twist to prove we're all adults? It /#
####/ has to do with this list, which we'll put in our pockets to throw away at a later /#
####/ date. It has to do with this list, which makes me feel more uncomfortable than I've /#
####/ ever felt, more apple pie than I've ever been. We are not housewives, executive, /#
####/ entrepreneurs. We are teachers by trade, complainers by role. /#
####/ /#
####/ Do The Lovers Still Meet At The Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial? /#
####/ Where's that San Miguel when you need one? Where's that empty dance floor we owned /#
####/ those Tuesday nights? I raised my glass for a cheer; this time only tears came out. /#
####/ But you know what I think about the jealous and the sneaks who see in you what they /#
####/ killed long ago. Ah, Min - I'm the sleepover pal you never had. Ah, Min - don't let /#
####/ this year and all its cycles get you down. Where are those suburban nights when one /#
####/ raft fit us both just right? Where are those weekend trips when the band was bound to /#
####/ fight? Have the stars forgotten our deal? On the east side we made it clear. Maybe the /#
####/ clouds got in the way that night. Tonight it's coming down. It took one beer to throw /#
####/ these scars out. Tonight I'm coming down from the nights under the General's house. /#
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####X. TRACK LISTING: +#
####: 01 04:14 nanzen kills a cat .#
####: 02 04:30 the good, the bad & the blind .#
####: 03 02:57 yamato (where people really die) .#
####: 04 03:00 my bouts with pouncing .#
####: 05 03:57 don't make me walk my own log .#
####: 06 04:04 the young alchemists .#
####: 07 03:20 we are the heathens .#
####: 08 02:44 pockets of pricks .#
####: 09 03:33 let's make a list .#
####: 10 05:06 do the lovers still meet at the... .#
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####= Total size : 51,5 MB M
####= Total Time : 37:25 min M
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