Teen Lust

by Distant Trains

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  • Digital Album

    Immediate download of 9-track album in your choice of high-quality MP3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.

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  • Cassette

    It's this album, on tape. With a cover. I made 50 of them and even numbered them.

    Includes immediate download of 9-track album in your choice of high-quality MP3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.

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    ships out within 5 days
    edition of 50 
1.
02:27
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2.
08:19
lyrics
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3.
05:35
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4.
05:13
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5.
05:16
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6.
03:43
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7.
04:48
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8.
05:54
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9.
02:46
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about

An album, with songs and things on it. I think it might have turned out pretty OK.

credits

released 26 March 2012
Chuck Hoffman: music, words, noises
cover art by Ira Rat, bad layout by Chuck Hoffman

tags

tags: experimental bedroom pop blues casio doom indie lo-fi noise songwriter Des Moines

license

feeds

feeds for this album, this artist

about

The Centipede Farm began as a name for Chuck Hoffman's music blog and a label-name to put on his own self-released material. It grew into this little cassette-and-net-label dealing in a variety of musical styles, most of them noisy, lo-fi, experimental, homemade, or outsiderish in some sense. ... more

discography

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Track Name: Missing/Eternal September
Muted TV don't pay attention
Lights out on ideas that ain't worth a mention
Done with throwing shit at the wall and missing
A faded sonic recollection
Lock the door leading to that section
Of reaching for some old emotion and missing

Back then I could make connections
Searching my soul and fighting my body
Punching at meat I'm made of meat and missing
Denied that I need any more
Than the boulder rolled before the door
And don't send a party if I'm wandered off and missing

Was supposed to be in a marching band
Couldn't find a ride to the game
Tried to have them ol' walkin' blues
Turned out that my blues are lame
I locked myself in the chemistry lab
With the oven and the acetone
I crashed your party and scared off your guests
Just so I could be alone

It was eternal September
And I was new at it all
I didn't know any better
I didn't know any worse

Prescription written on a tombstone pad
By a doctor working out of a van
You were a cannonball coming at me
I had a raygun in my hand

It was eternal September
And I was new at it all
I didn't know any better
How was I to know I was doing it wrong
How was I to know I was doing it wrong
How was I to know I was doing it wrong

You scared me so that I tried to hide out
Anywhere I could pretend I was dead
Pawned my TV for a ticket back home
But it couldn't get me away from my head

It was eternal September
And I was new at it all
I didn't know any better
I couldn't do any worse I guess
Track Name: The Truth About Fire
Cartography conspiracy
If legends fail to expire
Because everything is interesting
Here's the truth about fire
Four hundred children and a copy machine
Could probably get it done
And put the lightning in the trumpets
Yet I grind my teeth in the sun

So long ago is now far away
Wish we were friends
Sincerely I apologize
For the passive resistance
Call it kabuki karaoke
And throw your seat at the stage
It's kinda spooky to be so brokey
Gives the minimum rage, that's all.
Track Name: Gray Metal
we become ugly to each other
we become ugly to ourselves
we have been forced together
to make a living that is death

we are our own dorian grays hidden away
we only see bad memories in each others' face
we are unknown glory days never to come

pale and withered sickly plants we are
grown in artificial light in individual glass jars
in a cobwebbed attic that is our whole world
isolation and decay is what we've learned

we are our own dorian grays hidden away
we only see bad memories in each others' face
we are unknown glory days never to come
we are alone, harrassed in a crowd, anonymous swarm
Track Name: Improviser
I've got to leave on Monday
Living out loud's really shouted me down
Wish I could just think of it as business
But business gets so personal in this town
And now I know what balls and chains are made of
It's all the creature comforts we demand
And yet I ain't been comfortable for years now
It ain't that I'm a leaving kind of man
Just an improviser
I don't have no guarantees to give
Just an improviser
You'd have to compromise an awful lot
There ain't another way I know how to live

Maybe I was built to sleep on couches
It seems I wasn't built for consistency
Record me on the balance sheet as a loss to
Their cargo cult of personality
So am I gonna stay in a place that hates me
Or am I gonna find me a new place to hate
When either way I know all's getting hated
Are ghosts of my old selves that accumulate
Ghosts of improvisers
Who didn't have no guarantees to give
But am I improvising
Or have I just been
Talking to myself within the temporary constructs
Of my ever-present sense of dread
Rehearsing situations scripted from my own dictations
Didn't really understand what I said
The only answers I got have no questions
I'm a reluctant gunslinger if at all
But I'm so tired of rehearsing everything
I've got to give myself permission to give myself permission to fall
And to fail
Maybe call
Out for help
Maybe not