Troubleshooters

by Milks & Rectangles

Troubleshooters cover art
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1.
03:04
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2.
02:35
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3.
02:46
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4.
03:16
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5.
02:33
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credits

released 19 March 2010
Night Danger Records.

Produced, engineered, mixed, and mastered by Adam Gallant.

Milks & Rectangles are Christian Ledwell, Michael Carver, Brandon Williams, and Justin Uyterlinde.

"Long-Haired Hater" is was written by Katie Rankin and Gillian Arsenault, and is © The Barnkats.

Album artwork by Michael Carver.

Milks & Rectangles would like to acknowledge Music PEI for providing funding for this recording.

tags

tags: charlottetown prince edward island rock new wave post-punk Canada

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Track Name: Wink And A Gun (The Jury's Hung)
The matador chauffeurs
a bull to the red carpet
magnesium flashbulbs for
a news-hungry bull market.

Roast hog and lamb shanks for
the black dog on the back staircase.
I say he has no soul
Calling for soup bones.

A long-armed eunuch
with asbestos gloves
has a hard time
demonstrating his love.

Twelve o'clock comedian
with a wink and a gun
reading out the lottery
keeps the jury hung.

His concubine is restless;
she's ruining the mood
with the garbled cryptoquotes
she's howling at the moon.
Track Name: Unring A Bell
If you know Thelma who was carnival queen
they caught her with the mayor
and now people are steamed.
They'll run her out of town
to some distant shore
the grit in her eye could polish a floor.

You can unring a bell
Tell me what you're trying to sell
Pass it down the gunpowder trail
Like an empty water pail.

If you had three hours that you wanted to spend
We could take a rickshaw to an opium den
and let all the colours bleed themselves to death,
roaring at the lions on the family crest.

I can tell that trouble's closing in on me
and that the troubleshooter's lost at sea.
We will go where
the wind has no bones
And the street-lights aren't driving me blind.

You can unring a bell
Tell me what you're trying to sell
Pass it down the gunpowder trail
Like an empty water pail.

You can unring a bell
Don't you think that I can tell
That trouble's closing in on me
And the troubleshooter's lost at sea.
Track Name: Cakewalk
Stolen watches back in '38
stowed away inside a packing crate.
A hynoptist with a quivering lip
couldn't talk talk talk me out of it.

It's a cakewalk on pavement crumbs
wet socks and a faithless tongue
I'm gonna come through
I'm gonna come through for you.

Risked my money for a ticket home
on a pinstripe suit and a pocket comb.
We put our nickels on the rails,
stretch them out to pay your father's bail.

It's a cakewalk on pavement crumbs
wet socks and a faithless tongue
I'm gonna come through
I'm gonna come through for you.

Rusted cranes, all deaf and dumb
They raise their antlers to the sun
Drove home through the smokestacks
to the basement flats and the stock collapse
and the cinder block towers paying gravity tax.
Track Name: Don't Fall Into The Wrong Hands
In a junkyard seance
looking for a place to stay.
Asked a rooftop pigeon
about the roofs he'd like to save.
And if you've found yourself a room
And if there's someone there with you.

Don't fall into the wrong hand
the clutches of some strange man

Let my epitaph be a dirty joke
in the mother tongue that your father spoke.
Snakes walk with their hands in their pockets,
forked tongues that they plug into sockets.

Don't fall into the wrong hands,
the clutches of some strange man.
Don't fall into the wrong hands
The snares of a terrible plan.