1. From: www.Pastepunk.com

BALD EAGLE "Hot Shoulders" (Emergency Umbrella)
Review by Corey Schmidt

A throbbing rhythm section! Funkalicious rock n' roll riffs! Active, scratching-at-the-throat lead vocals! And a rough recording job to match it all! Woo! This is the stuff BALD EAGLE is made of and puts to use on Hot Shoulders, the band's latest release for Emergency Umbrella. Nestled in the vigorous vein of SADAHARU, HOOVER, and COUGARS (minus the horns), this Missouri-based quartet absolutely tears it up on Hot Shoulders. "Those Are Cobras, Man" gets things pumping early on with a bustling, repeated rhythm and truckloads of sick psychedelic riffing. Before the tune comes to an end, there is a brief moment of melodic greatness, and essentially, this mix of styles is what makes BALD EAGLE's sound so distinct. When the band's not performing their signature funky riff-driven tunes ("Lemon Lime Be On Time," "We. Have. You. Did," and "Shady Creepers" are of note), they opt for an unexpected, near-emo type of sound. Perhaps best heard in "Rodents Of Unusual Size," BALD EAGLE removes the propulsive energy of earlier songs in favor of a more relaxed, somewhat atmospheric tone. The same applies for the instrumental tunes "The Lunch Helicopter" and "What's All This Brew-Ha-Ha?" Even though the band's lead vocalist provides a spark whenever he is present, there is something about the simplicity of the abovementioned tracks that makes BALD EAGLE such an intriguing group. Analogies could be made to end this review, but all you need to know is Hot Shoulders is a freaking cool rock record. Dig it.

www.emergencyumbrella.com

2. From URB Magazine-

Bald Eagle :: Nightlife
Emergency Umbrella
Reviewed by Lauren Mooney
  
Bald Eagle's bio states that "like a frat boy puking on the shoes of his ineffectual lover, Columbia, MO vomits up the missing number to the world's rock and roll Sudoku puzzle." Citing influences from Minus the Bear to JR Ewing, this rock/punk/funk infusion is a rock and roll explosion. The single "Those are Cobras, Man" from their second LP Hot Shoulders rocks nice and hard. It jams and jams until you think you can't jam anymore, then you jam some more. Rock on. Look out for Hot Shoulders in the late summer or early fall on Emergency Umbrella Records.

3. From Go! Magazine.

Hot brew ha-ha ..END HEAD-->

..BODY-->There's not one clear way to describe the sound of Bald Eagle. To call the local band "rock" is too simple. To peg it anything more specific would just seem inaccurate or at least unjust to the range of sounds the four-piece group puts out.

The band's second album, the curiously named "Hot Shoulders" - is it a health condition? Is it what the guys look for in a mate? Who can say? - doesn't bring the band closer to that peg either. The 11-song record has a handful of tracks of that exude typical rock sounds with its fancy guitar fingering and smashing drums. Those are all well and good, but the more interesting bass lines from the band's earlier work seem to have been sacrificed as a result. Still, the remaining tracks are a range of musical and lyrical elements, from classic rock to pop-punk. The band might not be as funky as they once were, but you can tell they're just as much fun, with the personality of the band fully shining through in tracks such as "Jammin' the Wedge" and the Princess Bride-inspired "Rodents of Unusual Size."

The spirit of the lyrics - from sharks to cobras to aforementioned ROUSes - keeps the songs light and bouncy despite screaming vocals and tearing guitar riffs. But though the range of sounds is present, it's not so apparent that you're left feeling discombobulated. Each song has its own morsel of individuality while maintaining a consistent level of energy suited for a band of unstipulated rock.

And despite the electricity of the band, both in their live show and recorded work, the band includes tracks like "What's All This Brew-Ha-Ha?" that lighten up the entire tone of the album. It's a quick change of pace, a palate cleanser, a last dance of sorts that serves as a reminder that these dudes aren't just the flaming-guitar wielding, dead-baby joke-telling, pizza-jamming guys they appear to be. They need a little quiet time, too. But mostly not.

Recommended tracks: "Jammin' the Wedge," "Rodents of Unusual Size," "We. Have. You. Did.," "What's All This Brew Ha-Ha?"

- Mary T. Nguyen

Hot Shoulders (Emergency Umbrella)

4. QCLA: a Blahg

Missouri loves company, am I right? People?

Anyway, here's the deal - one of my favorite breakout bands of 2007 is uber-nerd rockers, Witch's Hat on Columbia, MO's Emergency Umbrella Records. Now, I'm here to talk about another EUR band, Bald Eagle. Not to be confused with Eagles of Death Metal, or even the Eagles, Bald Eagle soars with wings of their own (that was gay, sorry). Think fuzzed out bass guitar, sloppy drums, high-energy guitar antics and all the '70s rock influences you can possibly muster up in 30 seconds (AC/DC, Thin Lizzy, Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin, The Who) then remove the classy vocals and add some grating rawk-star lungs and you've got Bald Eagle. Their new album, Hot Shoulders came out today as well so pick it up and catch them live.

5. www.popmatters.com

Bald Eagle, Hot Shoulders (Emergency Umbrella)

One of the signs of a genuinely talented act is that they can make a fan out of you even if you don't necessarily like their style of music. I've never been that into the kind of blazing hard, riff-heavy indie punk metal that Bald Eagle plays. And yet by the second listen to this sophomore effort I was totally cranking it up, man (as the guys in Bald Eagle might say). What gives? The main reason for my enthusiasm is that this Columbia, Missouri quartet writes songs so infectious they seem to invade your central nervous system. Bald Eagle also soars through each number as if someone were holding a gun to their heads shouting "More energy! More power!" Finally, they have a hell of a sense of humor, giving their songs titles like "Those Are Cobras, Man" and "What's All This Brew Ha-Ha?" The thrashy "Jammin' the Wedge" consists of little more than the title being shouted repeatedly, yet its one of the best songs I've heard all year. Guitarists Danny Matteson and Mikey Wheeler crank out six-string harmonies that cross old metal with surf and punk, while drummer Justin McCready and bassist Justin Nardy make like early Red Hot Chili Peppers on speed. I was worried this record would court disaster. Now I'm worried it'll earn me a noise violation, but when they drag me into court my only defense will be to shout: "Jammin' the wedge, it gets you so up! Jammin' the wedge, it gets you so up!" [PopShop, Amazon.., Amazon UK..]

•  Multiple songs MySpace
  

6. from www.decoymusic.com

Jared Murdock is a flag waving patriot...with sunburn

 

Bald Eagle - Hot Shoulders

 

 

Website Listen

I'm no writer so I'm going to keep this pretty short. Bald Eagle is a band from Columbia, MO. Which is where all the good music comes from, right? They mix some 90's DC emo/indie with a bit of Don Caballero and some good ol' fashioned Rock and Roll. From the groove of the album's best song "Sharks are Fucked Up" to the funky "Trans Dyn-O-Mite" these guys are very good at what they do. At times they come across sounding like Fugazi gone pop, which is a great thing in my opinion. There's even a part on the instrumental "Shady Creepers" that reminds me of "J'Nuh" by Sunny Day Real Estate. Check these dudes out. They will get you movin'.

7. from www.zeromag.com

Bald Eagle
Hot Shoulders
Emergency Umbrella Records

..>..>..>..>..> ..> ..>..>..>..>..>..>

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Indie rock isn't usually this furious. Or funky. Or funny. Guitar lines branch in every direction, drums crash and tumble, lead singer Mikey Wheeler screams something more or less incomprehensible about Larry Bird. It's great. Bald Eagle's 2006 debut, Bacon and Eggs, Dear was really good, but Hot Shoulders is even better. That is, if you like to rock.

The Columbia, Missouri foursome places serious rocking above all else, without ever taking anything too seriously. Mastering the classic dense Midwestern post-punk sound, mixing in an edgy brand of frat rock, and treating it all to a serious dose of humor, Bald Eagle comes up with songs like "Sharks Are Fucked up," "Trans Dyn-O-Myte," "Stompin' up the Stairs (With My Mustache on)," and "What's All This Brew-Ha-Ha?"

Bald Eagle has more than enough chops to back up this cheekiness, offering music that can be approached from a number of enticing angles, none of which is novelty. Freshness, perhaps, but that's missing the point. The point is that Hot Shoulders rocks just right, and Bald Eagle are really quite good.

- Nate Seltenrich

8. from Side One: Track One:

Friday, August 24, 2007
  --> -->--> -->--> MSTableType="layout" -->..>..>..>..>..> ..> ..>..>..>..>..>..>

As you probably remember, yesterday's ramble was done in part to fill my sudden realized void of Swedish pop.  Well, today I'm sticking with that same theme.  Only this time it's all about using Columbia, Missouri's Bald Eagle to end the recent absence of blistering rock.  Also, it's a great way to make sure you enter the weekend ready to haul ass all over town looking badass in ways that I can only imagine.  Or, you could just thrash around your apartment.  Whichever you choose, just know that I have the song that you'll want to have on repeat.  It's from the recently released Hot Shoulders, which is the quartet's sophomore full length and comes courtesy of Emergency Umbrella Records.  I haven't heard it in it's entirety yet, but so far so good.  Enjoy.

:Bald Eagle - Those Are Cobras, Man:  If you have already made up your mind in regards to what I meant by blistering rock then this song is going to really surprise you.  Sure, it starts out in a way that can be expected with  plodding, classic rock-esque guitar riffs, raw drumming and spastic vocals relentlessly paving the way.  But, unexpectedly around the 3:55 mark the song seamlessly transitions into an extended break of post punk jamming that will have you checking to see if it's actually the same band.  This isn't a generic, paint by the numbers kind effort; Bald Eagle knows how to bring it.

9. from Exclaim! Magazine (Canada)

Bald Eagle
Hot Shoulders .. -->--> -->--> -->--> -->-->Bald Eagle-->
By Josiah Hughes

Perfectly mixing elements of riff-heavy '70s rock like Deep Purple with party-time post-punk in the vein of Rye Coalition and the WPP, Columbia, Missouri's Bald Eagle know what they love. Hot Shoulders, their second full-length, captures this perfectly during its 11 tracks. Opener "Those Are Cobras, Man" kills it with some duelling guitars and aggressive vocals, while pizza song "Jammin The Wedge" opens with some arena-ready chords that build to a busy jam. Elsewhere, "Rodents of Unusual Size" takes a less abrasive indie rock approach, while the acoustic "The Lunch Helicopter" works as a fine centrepiece. By exploring different ideas without sounding schizophrenic, and having so much fun while they do it, Bald Eagle cut the bullshit and play amazing music. .. -->--> -->--> -->--> -->-->Hot Shoulders-->(Emergency Umbrella) 
 

10. from www.Bullz-Eye.com 

Bald Eagle: Hot Shoulders

• Punk/Rock
• 2007
• Buy the CD

Reviewed by James B. Eldred

(jeldred@bullz-eye.com)

Silly without falling into parody, Bald Eagle's sophomore album Hot Shoulders is a strange journey into a punk rock band's obsession with deadly animals (fictitious or otherwise), nonsensical non sequiturs about jumping rope, and the occasional hard rocker about boning hot broads (and possibly dudes).

Bald Eagle seem to be equal followers of both metal and punk, with lead singer Danny Matteson's screaming vocals finding accompaniment along side melodic and repetitive stoner rock riffs. The opening number "Those Are Cobras, Man!" sets the stage for the majority of the album, combining the two previously mentioned styles with hilariously bizarre lyrics about venomous snakes.

This odd band from Missouri seems to have some unhealthy fixation with wildlife dangers, as if they've spent way too much time watching Discovery Channel. If that's the case, then "Sharks Are Fucked Up" had to have been inspired by a marathon viewing session of Shark Week.

But are sharks fucked up? Isn't it a more accurate description to call them "fucking scary" or "fucking awesome"? The duckbilled platypus is a fucked up animal. It's a beaver with a duck bill! Did you know it's poisonous too? Seriously, that's a fucked up animal. But "Duckbilled Platypuses Are Fucked Up" isn't as catchy. Actually, it probably is, but "platypus" is a very hard word to rhyme.

Confidently covering both poisonous reptiles and man-eating fish, Bald Eagle move on to fictional beasts with "Rodents of Unusual Size," a semi-ballad ode to the comedic classic The Princess Bride and the giant rats that attempt to munch on the film's heroes. Despite its somewhat silly name and surprising source material, the song is surprisingly touching, focusing primarily on the relationship of the film's grandfather and grandson: "An old one tells a story / Of true love and villains." It's definitely better than that god-awful Mark Knopfler song that closes out the movie.

The wackiness continues with "Lemon Lime Be on Time" which appears to be a punk rock jump rope rhyme, and "Trans Dyn-o-Mite" which could possibly be the best song about dancing with a transsexual since the Kinks "Lola." The singer's apparent love for his manly woman's broad frame is the source of the album's title as well: "Oh, hot shoulders / Oh yeah, I think I love you!"

Taking the silliness down a bit are three instrumental tunes that prove Bald Eagle can bring the headbang-inducing rock even when not waxing poetic about wacky shemales and killer animals. "The Lunch Helicopter" is a mellow jam serves as a nice break between "Rodents of Unusual Size" and "Lemon Lime Be on Time." It sounds a bit out of place between the two exceptionally unusual songs, but not so much that it's a distraction. The second instrumental tune, "Shady Creepers," is much more fast-paced, and may remind some metalheads of the kind of interlude they might find during an exceptionally long track by the Sword, with repetitive driving guitar rhythms pounding into your skull.

The album only really comes apart at the very end with the final instrumental tune, "What's All This Brew-Ha-Ha?" A better question might be "Where the hell is the brew-ha-ha?" as this numbing, mellowed out, "Sigur Ros goes punk" conclusion to the otherwise great album is like sonic wallpaper. Actually, it kind of sounds like late '80s Mark Knopfler. Between this and the ode to "The Princess Bride," maybe they're trying to take that dude's job.

11. from www.treblezine.com

 

 

Bald Eagle

Hot Shoulders
2007
Emergency Umbrella

The bald eagle is an American institution, a symbol of our freedom and pride. It is the focal point of many a Successories poster, its majestic pose embodying the phrase "Excellence," printed in all-caps serif font just underneath. The bald eagle has also been lampooned because of its unwitting attachment to conservative American traditions. Sam the Eagle, a classic Muppet character, was exactly the sort of humorless patriot (and therefore quite hilarious) that would buy such a motivational poster, and let's not forget Freedom the Fighting Eagle, a beefed-up commando action figure with the head of an eagle. Poor bird, it's not his fault we're such douchebags. Ah, but Bald Eagle the band is something of the antithesis to absurd conservatism and power ties. They represent a completely different American tradition, that being the party-hard, out of control, beer guzzling motherfucker who just wants to have a good time. And what a good time there is to be had with their second album, Hot Shoulders.

The Columbia, Missouri quartet revels in the great American institution of aggressive, yet melodic and spastic post-hardcore, bringing to mind the burly guitar acrobatics of Drive Like Jehu and Rye Coalition, while maintaining a jittery intensity, like that of Nation of Ulysses. The opening riff of "Those Are Cobras, Man" has almost a classic rock sound to it, beefy and bluesy, yet primed to explode any second, and it does just that. Soon enough, riffs begin spiraling into a frightening inferno beneath shrill screams of "they've got the venom in `em!" "Jammin' the Wedge" begins with more fanfare, with burly crashes as if the band is stomping and snorting just before they begin to charge. Once they do begin their forward momentum, the song is a bit less straightforward, more meandering in its riffage, yet fearsome all the same.

Aside from having a pretty great title, "Sharks Are Fucked Up" is a rip-roarin' guitar rock colossus, where the Doobie Brothers meet Fugazi, melodic riffs boogie around one another only to soar into jagged punk rock warfare. The Princess Bride referencing "Rodents of Unusual Size" is more melodic, better fit for radio, sort of, and pretty pleasant overall, whereas "The Lunch Helicopter" even finds the band going acoustic in a sort of surprising diversion. Nothing quite comes near the transvestite Tourette's explosion of "Trans Dyn-o-Myte," which caps its insane verse with a fiery shout of "I AM A MAN!"

Bald Eagle aren't so much an American institution as they deserve to be, but their balls out rock barrage on Hot Shoulders proves just how valuable they are to American punk rock. I've got a great pitch for Successories once the band is finally given their due. All four members stand solemnly, each one clutching a mangled and broken instrument, against an American Flag background, their namesake peering proudly beyond the horizon. The caption below reads: FUCK YEAH!

Similar Albums:
The Party of Helicopters - Please Believe It
Drive Like Jehu - Yank Crime
The Nation of Ulysses - The 13-Point Plan to Destroy America

12. from www.cokemachineglow.com

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	1. Those Are Cobras, Man 2. Jammin' the Wedge [MP3] 3. Sharks Are Fucked Up 4. Rodents of Unusual Size 5. The Lunch Helicopter 6. Lemon Lime Be On Time 7. Trans Dyn-O-Myte 8. Shady Creepers 9. We. Have. You. Did. [MP3] 10. Stompin' Up the Stairs (With My Moustache On) 11. What's All This Brew-Ha-Ha?	.. -->-->DWLayoutTable-->..> ..> ..>..>     .. -->-->DWLayoutEmptyCell-->    If it weren't for Future of the Left's Curses, I might be tempted to call Bald Eagle's Hot Shoulders this year's Mcluskyist record. Thankfully, Future of the Left help remind me that Mclusky's rock was fueled by their wit whereas Bald Eagle's rock is fueled by their, well, need to rock. They just happen to pile all their killer hooks and dirty riffs around morbid words that are treated as romps. You can hear "Those Are Cobras, Man" blink and grin as it warns: "Those are cobras, man / those are cobras / Bite your fucking hand / those are cobras." As Dave Goldstein points out, how can you not dig a band that'll title a song "Sharks Are Fucked Up"? The lyrics describe a watery death scene that might be grim if not for that title and for the band's guitarists Mikey Wheeler and Danny Matteson exuberantly playing off each other, pushing towards frenzy. And if the title calls to mind "The Shark's Own Private Fuck," the angular efficacy of the dual guitar attack recalls earlier Sunny Day Real Estate, just with a big fondness for '70s rock. Or, to be entirely more accurate, this is the best Hello Sir! record not on Hello Sir! Bald Eagle are loud plus smart plus a lot of fun. "Lemon Lime Be On Time" feels like its lyrical double-dutch image notated as visceral post-punk; the guitars are twin ropes, the drums and bass the rapid pat of those ropes hitting the pavement, complete with switch-ups in tempo and rhythm -- and there's even handclaps in the breakdown. "Trans Dyn-O-Myte" might be the best sexually confused ode to a transvestite since "Lola"; Justin McCrady's drums carry the track, guitar lines like quotation marks starting then stopping mid-measure, encasing each ragged yell of "Your face like a foot" and "Your hands on your hips" and "Tits and a dick" and "I AM A MAN." The guitars become more sinewy, weaving in long strips through the track as they're joined by Justin Nardy's juicy bass. Love is professed with the same scratchy-throat force, the album title dropped before the song unravels into a distended coda. So where "Lola" was bright for how it wormed its way into the pop canon, "Trans Dyn-O-Myte" takes its joy in collapsing somewhere far outside of that, ecstatic and exhausted by its loss of inhibition. "We. Have. You. Did." is a right fist-pumper, but it's difficult to explain how Bald Eagle can chew over lines like "If our god is true / then we are surely doomed" with such glee. So just listen to the thing. You could call the instrumentals filler, but they're very well executed filler that give the album a couple reprieves from jamming, that have some compositional ties to each other, and in "What's All This Brew-Ha-Ha" bring the album to a post-rock peak that's a satisfying amendment to its rock-rock constitution. The closest thing to a misstep is the still musically nice "Rodents of Unusual Size," which uses Bald Eagle's curt phrasing to recap the story of, yeah, The Princess Bride. Inconceivable? I guess not. Really, though, there isn't much surprising about Hot Shoulders beyond just how damn good it is, delivering in all the ways a record of its ilk should. It pummels and dances, barks and laughs, a fighter in a cage who wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Its movement would seem erratic if it weren't so clear that everything's motivated towards achieving a knock-out blow. For an upstart label Emergency Umbrella has made some good choices and has lovingly delivered the releases of the Foundry Field Recordings and now Bald Eagle, both bands far from revolutionary yet serving as excellent examples of their given genres. In Bald Eagle's case we have a record that's my third favorite rock album of the year (behind Curses and Rainbow by Boris with Michio Kurihara). Lips and fingers curled, Hot Shoulders is lean muscle that bounds about its stage with a strong awareness of its place, its history, and what it wants to do. Shit's a blast. Chet Betz November 21, 2007

 This record was recorded by Shane Hochstetler (Call Me Lightning) in Waukesha, Wi at Headache House and was mixed by him as well. We got everything mastered in Milwaukee, Wi by Trevor Sadler at Mastermind. Please look for the release of this on 8/21/07 for cd and 9/11/07 for vinyl LP both on Emergency Umbrella Records (www.emergencyumbrella.com).

The track list is as follows:

1. Those Are Cobras, Man

2. Jammin The Wedge

3. Sharks Are Fucked Up

4. Rodents Of Unusual Size

5. The Lunch Helicopter

6. Lemon Lime Be On Time

7. Trans Dyn - O - Myte

8. Shady Creepers

9. We. Have. You. Did.

10. Stompin Up The Stairs (With My Moustache On)

11. What's All This Brew Ha- Ha?

Bald Eagles "Christian Lazer Tag"

What is there to say about a band that apparently features a guy who looks like an emo-Keter and a dude with the most amazing beard since the one in that "Doublmints mints, not gum" ( or maybe the weird Skittles joint ) commercial? Well, not much, except maybe "they fuckin' rock!" Missouri-based Bald Eagles are just such a band, and their brand of noisy punk-funk ( sort of like Test-Icicles, but without the hype ) does indeed rock. Their entire album 'Bacon and Eggs, Dear,' out now on the Collective Records label, is pretty fuckin' hot, and I think the song "Christian Lazer Tag" demonstrates that fact pretty damn well.

And remember, if you like what you hear give the full-length albums these tracks were taken from a chance by spending some dough on them.

Those Are Cobras, Man-

Those are cobra's man. Those are cobras.

Bite your fucking hand. Those are cobras.

Blood and venom man. Those are cobras.

Those are cobra's man. Those are cobras.

BLOOD.

FOR.

BLOOD FOR VENOM

They've got the venom in em.

They've got the venom.

BLOOD FOR VENOM

Jammin' The Wedge-

Jammin' the wedge, it gets you up.

Clap with your hands, it gets you up.

Oh, oh, oh, you're down, down.

Hey, hey, hey, you're up, up.

Sharks Are Fucked Up-

There's a time to let go
in the ebb and the flow.
An eclipse of the sun
by a ravenous storm.
Treading water to breath.
The chatter of teeth.
Every piece of the plane
on the floor of the sea.
There's no land in sight.
Day is turning to night.
And for now we're alone.
But we won't be for long.

There's a time and a place
for your prayer and your faith.
Now you can't feel your face.
Now you can't feel your legs.
There's a time to let go
and a beast in the flow.
Now your moment is gone
when you fall to the jaws.

Shark attack and all the lights go black.
And the crashing waves prepare an early grave.

Rodents Of Unusual Size-

An old one tells a story of a true love and villains, fearsome beasts. A young one hears a story. A son vows vengence in his father's name. He swears he'll see that day. The brute with a heart of gold, mighty hands and a modest soul. The man in black wants his princess back.

As you wish. As usual things look treacherous. The six fingered man picked up the scent. This mask hides a face you knew back when.

He climbs a mountain gladly. He swallows poison sadly to no avail. Still another trail. He battles rodents in the swamp. Abducted, tortured, killed, but on only mostly dead. He'll find his princess yet.

As you wish. As usual things look treacherous. The six fingered man picked up the scent. This mask hides a face you knew back when.

A young one understands this. A young one witnessed magic in an old one's voice. No other noise. An old one turns the light off. A young one starts to nod off. The story ends.

Lemon Lime, Be On Time-

Grab the handles, untie the rope, the competition has no hope.

Double Dutch, Chinese Wheels, Do what your body feels.

Jump in, Jump in, Jump in, Jump in, Jump out.

Oh, Yeah

Alright

Jump In, Tonight

Lemon lime, Be on Time.

Trans Dyn-O-Myte-

Your face like a foot, Your hands on your hips. Tits and a dick, I am a man.

We're going dancing tonight.
We'll take a stroll under the moonlight where your jugular can hide.
Hike up your skirt a little. And don't forget to tuck it back girl. There's no need to show the world your packing dynamite in six inch heels.
And that mascara makes you feel right. When it's running down the side of your chizzled chin and your grizzly grin and your foundation.
The contrast brings your eyes to life.
Pout your lips, make a wish, and blow a kiss.

By the way. When you move that thing. Be the woman you'll never be.

Come on Girl, I think I love you. Oh Hot Shoulders.

Oh yeah, I think I love you,  oh,  The hot shoulders.

We. Have. You. Did.-

Let's take a minute or two.
Digest the view.
It's passing right before you.
While we ignore our dues.
And you know what else.
We can't help ourselves.
We hold signs and scream.
A dream is just a dream.

We point our fingers and claim.
We're not to blame.
The opposition plays games.
While we deny the shame.
And you know what else.
We can't help ourselves.
If our god is true.
Then we are surely doomed.

You never really gave us a reason.
And your apology would be out of season.
If humility and passion are treason.
Then what the hell are we supposed to believe in.

Cross your heart. Hope to die.
Play your part. Testify.

Stompin' Up The Stairs (with my moustache on) –

Hey there, little lady. Said I'd like to get to know you better but you ain't give me much of a chance. I dig your clever name but it's been about a year now and I'm growing mighty tired of this dance.

Stomping up the stairs.

So you say you're nineteen and you're on the poms.
And you like long walks. And you like small dogs.
And you want to get married in the garden behind the chapel and drive away in your Mercedes. You must be crazy.

Stomping up the stairs.

THE CARL WEATHERS REPORT -
80's attraction with your Action Jackson, i've got the need for speed i need Apollo Creed. Predator and Rocky 2 Carl Weathers I love you. 50 percent chance of rain, 100 percent chance of pain.
You're thunder, You're lightning, don't get caught in the storm.

INDIANA BIRDS AND THE GARDEN OF DOOM -
From the French Lick to a sycamore, we've got the bird and he's got the score. We've got the bird and he's in the garden. He's got the shot, the shot, the shot, the shot. You wanted him, we got him man. Who said he can't be a legend?

LIONS LIPS AND TIGER TOUNGES -
The lions lips become the tigers toungue, and your lying lips become a tired toungue. Your breathing, your breathing through worn out lungs. Your breathing, your breathing through warn out lungs. So breathe in, to breathe out again. Breathe in, to breathe out again. Are you tired you tiger? Are you sleeping you lion? Breathe in, you've got to roar right now. The lions lips become the tigers toungue, and your lying lips become a tired toungue.

BLACK SWORD -
(nardy part) - Look at these hands, these fucking hands. Look at my hands my broken hands. Look at these kids, these fucking kids. Look at these kids they're killing kids. Look at these knives, these fucking knives, look at these guns, these loaded guns. Look at these kids they're killing kids, look at these kids they're killing kids.
The kids are killing the kids...
(mikey's part)From blacktop, to sandlot; once upon a time there was piece of mind in sticks and stones.
But now no round of foursquare will supplement the broken bones of all the kids with shattered homes that lost their way.
And search from day to day for sweet revenge, find only tooth decay.
When innoncence has all but faded away, basesballs put aside for hand grenades.
Hands- knives- guns. What the hell have we become?
Hands- knives- guns.
What's it going to be then?
King of the hill or the fight that nobody wins?
Will trade your lunchbox for hatred or trade it all away for blacktops and sandlots and all your childish ways? -

SO DECK -
So deck, i'm deck, you're deck, yeah. So deck, i'm deck, you're deck, oh fuck.

1) Get up. Ah yeah, now get down. Shine up your best shoes. Break out your best moves. Call it a disco. Call it a rock show. Call it a hoe-down show-down. Drop it 'til it hits the ground.

so deck, i'm deck you're deck, yeah. So deck i'm deck, your deck yeah.

2) Step left. Ah yeah, now step right. Break out the slow jams. Get freaky all night. Bust out the robot. Pop-lock and sock-hop. Little girl just face the wind. You'll catch fire before you know.

so deck, i'm deck, you're deck, oh fuck.
Repeat 1)

so deck, i'm deck, you're deck yeah. so deck, i'm deck, you're deck, oh yeah.

Repeat 2)

A little bit softer now. A little bit softer now.
A little bit louder now. A little bit louder now.

so deck, you're dead


WIND UP DEAD IN A CAMARO -
Hey you, watching your back. What do you fear?
What's in your little briefcase?
Confidential. Perhaps your soul?
These brutes stand in your way. They gaurd the rear.
Don't cross them broadened shouders.
Break your legs. Throw you in a ditch.
This man, dark sunglasses, in a darker room.
Best hope he's on the same page.
Never know, this might not be your day.

It might just be the job, but your looking kind of nervous
It's probably the cops that keep driving past the window.

Time to bounce. This deal 'aint going down. It seems that you've been clowned. And don't you know it. You 'aint even strapped, fool. Forgot the golden rule, so duck and cover. Battering ram come knocking down the door. Who's it for? You, Slick, and all your funky tricks. Oh, Glorifying Tom Sellac. They grabbed the lute and split. And left you with a nightstick to the grill, riding bitch in a Crown Vic. Guess it still beats winding up dead in a camero.

GHOST JAM OF THE YOUNG CENTURY -
Atop a ghastly hill, a woman once was killed.
Alone in her estate, not a soul could hear her scream.
So legend says, her spirit not at rest, haunts the endless hallways, bedrooms, and the very dreams of any fool who dared to occupy the lair, following the crime (to this day unsolved, I might add.)
So we find ourselves dusting off these shelves.
But mind you, be aware. For wicked things are lurking up these stairs.

Did you hear that sound? No one is around.
Well maybe it's the house, shifting as it sinks into the ground? Perhaps the voice is just a little wind, creeping through the cracks? Wait, there it was again. Maybe it's a cat, chasing this or that? But cat's don't look like bedsheets floating through the fucking air. Do you see what I see? I think it's time to leave.
No, I think it's too late.
No, I know it's too late.
No!

CHRISTIAN LAZER TAG -
Hey everybody, you know a better way
to see god through the eyes of a hethan, yeah?
Hey eveybody, I know a thing about you.
To hell with what you thought you knew.

Hey everybody, you know a better way
to score points in this feeble, crime crusade?
Hey everybody, I know a thing about you.
You'll see the light when you get a clue.

Oh no, and it happens again.
It's the same old story with a different ending.
I said oh no, and it happens again.
If you face the West you can smell disgrace.

Hey everybody, you know a better way
to make love to a glorious protege?
Hey everybody, I know a thing about you.
To hell with what you thought you knew.

SALUTE THE DAMNED -
Who are you to regulate?
What cause to retaliate?
What reason to infultrate?
What escuse to complicate?
Who are you to play the game?
How many lives will you claim?
What is it you think you'll gain?
In the end we're all the same.
We're all the same.

Land of the free. Home of the brave. Still you insist.
To remain a slave.
Stand tall and proud while your friends hit the ground.
And salute the damned as they rot in the sand by the gun in your hand.

Salute the damned.
And as you walk the streets and demons follow at your feet. Salute the damned.
And as you lay your head and nameless faces haunt your dreams. Salute the damned.
And as you swallow pills to drown all your regret and guilt, you will.

You will see through the lies. Or will you still deny?
You will see through the lies. Or will you still deny?
Oh god, you will.

DO A BACKFLIP, JERK -

COMING DOWN THE MOUNTAIN, GYPSY LOVER -

CHUCK NORRIS, SING ME TO SLEEP -
Jackie Chan. Jean Claude Van-Damme. Steven Segal.
Oh no, you 'aint no man next to the Walker.
Delta Force, ride a horse straight up your program.
Yeah, he'll show you how he jams.
Ninjitsu, Jujitsu, no sacred Kung-Fu is going to rescue you from the Walker. Cowboy hat, baseball bat. You know the roundhouse will put you down for the count.
Aikido, Shaolin-Fist, no tai-kwan-do is gonna save your bitch ass from the Walker.
Special Ops, rocks the socks right off the gad guys. Stopping evil in the bad lands.
Jackie Chan, Jean Claude Van-Damme. Steven Segal.
Oh no, you 'aint no man next to the Walker.
Delta Force, ride a horse straight up your program. Yeah, he'll show you how he jams.

Oh, he's going to leave you in the dust. Oh no, you better bet your ass. You get your hands up.

Walker. Cowboy hat, baseball bat. You know the roundhouse will put you down for the count. Walker. You better shoot to kill or you got to run like hell. Cause he's coming after you.

NIGHT LIFE -
Narrow is the path, amongst the fallen leaves (abandoned by the dead trees.)
Swift, green, Japanese is the vehicle that navigates the twisting scene. In the dusk stirring clouds form a serpentine, gaurdian of night life. Around the bend lurks a stranger whispering, luming with the clouds in the sky.
Upon approach, unsetteling undertones manifest.
Upon engagement, suspicion underlines all intent.
Acknowledgement at a glance and a gesture aggrevates the stalemate.
Once a strager, now a stalker in pursuit.
This plot begins to complicate. Prey takes bait.
Swallow, mistake, no escape.

Whisper turns to howl. Creeping shadow bursts into blinding light. Slither accelerates, becoming prowl. Intuition hesitates. Nightmares reveal themselves in unexpected circumstance. Crosshairs, the chase insues.
This is no case on consequence, this plot's suspense.
Swallow, mistake, no escape.

The beast will surely gain. Blazing eyes take aim. Steely jaws bare down. Devastating sound.
Wounded and helpless, must decide. Attempt the narrow path... find shelter in the night life? Amongst the fallen leaves, shall hide. Await the fate the tireless hunter soon will provide.

Instinct turns to struggle. Adrenaline courses through veins. Extinction is no option. Survive the most dangerous game.

Bathed in moonlight. Starved for breath. Forgotten images reinvest. And in this dark hour, time left behind. Make peace with your enemies. Forgive... forgive.