Progress / Merchants

by Dérive

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about

This is only available as a digital download, or on 7" lathe cuts (20 pressed of each song) only available at shows.

credits

released 10 November 2014

About the lyrics:
"Progress Is Everyone's Business" is inspired by "The Things Our Fathers Loved" by Charles Ives.


Justin Belden - Bass, Vocals
Paul DeGrandpre - Drums, Vocals
Greg Nahabedian - Guitar, Keyboard, Accordion, Vocals
Paul Schmelz - Guitar, Vocals

and extra vocals on 'Merchants of Youth' by Armen Nahabedian.

Recorded in June 2014 by Paul Schmelz at an elementary school in Agawam, MA, a house in Westfield, MA, an apartment in Amherst, MA, and a house in Hampstead, NH.
Produced and mixed by Paul Schmelz and Dérive.
Mastered by Tyler Bisson at Audio Geography - Bethel, CT
www.audiogeography.com

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Track Name: Progress Is Everyone's Business
Thousands of rats huddle beneath an overpass
And all of them refusing to move and wondering to themselves
Oh man is life really like that
When you listen closely you can hear whispering and screaming and singing and talking and whistling and piano playing and secret telling and backwards glancing and guitar strumming and silent humming and banjo picking and everyone seems to be saying I'm doing it wrong.

There must be a place inside my soul all made of songs from long ago
There must be a place inside my heart made for all those songs to fall apart
Am I doing it wrong?

Let's put an end to boredom
Let's put nostalgia to bed
We toil in obscurity

I think there's a place inside my soul where all my favorite memories go
But I think there's a place inside my heart to tear everything I love apart
And forget old romance and failed plans and gentle dreams of autumn scenes
i think there's a place inside my soul where all my favorite songs can go
But I think there's a place inside my heart to rip every single chord apart
And forget older rhymes from older times and let's move on

There must be a place inside my soul - there must a place inside my heart
I'm doing it wrong

There must be a place inside my soul - it always sings loud but lately everything comes out grey and tough
I can't hear the words but it sings of things I've always loved.
Track Name: Merchants of Youth
Yeah we're the kids - gagging on plastic bags
With skin made of dirty rags
With eyelids from price tags
I sold my soul for a filthy flag

i take the image of your favorite blouse
to the back of the midtown slaughterhouse
We tore it to bits - it was covered in shit
Make no mistake I'll make a mess of it

Yeah we're the kids I replaced my heart with a credit card
Yeah we're the kids I replaced my skin with a tip jar

I want to hit, haunt, spit, snare, and I want to do it everywhere

I take the image of your favorite blouse - tonight there's a party at the slaughterhouse.We're chopping up blogs and dumping them in the streams. We'll set fire to every rock star magazine. you found your own picture in the centerfold so you fingered the crease and then wiped up the mess with the pages from your press release.

And all the kids are going lick lick taste the sweetness of the sale while your scream scream keep up the same old scene and gag gag keep sucking off the camera flash and cry yourself to night into the pages from your press release.

I want to hit, haunt, spit, snare, and I want to do it everywhere

If you smash the guitar then I'll burn the strings. Let's hang our lives from this church door's rusty hinge.