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Is That A Riot?

by Youngblood Brass Band

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    Original pressing of full-gatefold digipack CD. Art/design by Scott Pauli.

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    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Pax Instrumentals EP, Covers 1, 20 Years Young, RIP Arian Macklin, Pax Volumi, Riot Instrumentals EP, Is That A Riot?, Live. Places., and 3 more. , and , .

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March 03:18
"... to gather in us the desire for motion towards... Motion to make that movement vertical... rewrite your books while hovering... assemble and advance on the sky... there is no more room for forward, for back... focus in us flight, and spring. Jump... take up space. It is in the air... take what is yours. Take on space... " The month of armies. Month of stomping men. Uniform winter tries to shed while fighting back nostalgia's frozen tears. The melted path summer runs along, naked but for her tanned hide. Yes, spring is a bully. All the earth in coitus for lonely bees to watch. And as the world grows green, broken birds grow envy. True, man, spring gets all the love. Verb in season form. This is its roaring mouth leaving bite marks on the year's front quarters; aide memoire to the thoughtless ranks who bundle up their fear of age with tattered scarves of love lost. But it is also quite mindful of two masters, for all it's pomp and span: though keeping to the wings, and later giving them up (only one needs the hand), it serves the lion and leaves the lamb. March.
"From the left shoulder of a nation From skies lacking the mechanisms of death From the burdened bellies of wrought iron angels We come, we drop: we're bombs..." And we're in... hordes of us, scraping over the walls... There is no darkness so deep that we cannot paint it present. There is no cause so bleak that we will veil in vain. We are the rain's army, dispatched in vein and we course... Dead eyes run through. Ink and pigment splattered on barren ground. Swords aloft. Screaming battle cries in all tongues lost. The old blood boiling over timeless ideals. We are staining every soul present enough to look up. Go home scarred and tattoo the sound all over your body, for these sun-dipped blades herald brighter spirits coming once that gray lump you call a head is sliced clean off... Once a benevolent president tears open your cheek a tongue will come flopping out. It will lay on the ground licking slush off our frozen streets. Then it will die. Your love curdled already besides. I'll kiss your hand, but you won't see the smirk beneath my lowered eyes. Nothing King get wise: All my children are carrying knives More pressure more fire more peace more vibe. More people more free more heat more live. More voice more feet more song more rise. More echo more cloud more test more sky. No quarter no vote no power no vice. No king no vision no womb no right. More signal more move more center more light. More pressure more fire more peace more vibe. More. How about a little warhead in your abdomen? Ooh, how about a stain? How about armada is to javelin what battle is to game? Oh! Inverted world I'm thinking Nobel Prize, because the marriage of preemption and commerce? That was mine. I prefer a phallus to a circle every time. I prefer to make a beat that wipes a village from the map. I prefer a falling payload when it's dancing on your lap. Are you perverts having fun yet? It all comes out gray and matters less with each sunset. Here come a bomb. The sound above language. The sound off-kilter with casualties pending. The sound of patented death. The action-packed ending. It's not sarcasm. We're training eyes. Hands were we can see them. Ass in the sky. Asinine lies for assassins in need of motives for making that human ink bleed. Champions, fly. Calling all living. Affirming all dreams. Screaming all hell. As real as it seems. Rescind your explosions. Get up off toes. Kids are at attention tending toward prose. Smolder at shows, shoulder all comers. Dirty old bushmen your season is waning. Sorry about peace... big fucking bummer. Ignite a new kind of soul fusing father and mother. Here come the heat.... nuclear summer. More pressure more fire more peace more vibe. More people more free more heat more live. More voice more feet more song more rise. More echo more cloud more test more sky. No quarter no vote no power no vice. No king no vision no womb no right. More signal more move more center more light. More pressure more fire more peace more vibe. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More.
Waiver 05:30
We are waving our arms. To the left. To the right. AK's over here. M9's over there. There's a party over... our arms. Our arms. Our arms. Our arms. We are waiving our arms.
Pala Minima 05:58
This film on your anvil has no shutter, no scope. And woman, and song, and play do not appear. Intoned words, the carpeted funeral March slung like bullets from the mouth of a distant god, Leave you shaking for mercy’s Shameful touch. You are shook By each woken man, each of these Traveling magi, each supposed healer. Shook by a single sound That could burn down projected House. Eyes like suspended lanterns Wandering between crowds, attaching Themselves to a trolling thigh here, An advertisement there. The film! battered at home, pounded Into your family’s forum, shoved On your friends’ beds, grows Through winter a moss and a thistle. It covers a plaque tossed off by a preacher. But it will not cleanse It will not show It will swim in your head Until the credit rolls It shall not cleanse It shall not show It will slowly be covered by Dunes, blood, dust, and snow. You are resurrecting a history found Gutted and stripped by adolescent, Sharp-toothed boys. Through arduous Season and season it spills itself for them. It says “Run with my line, my moves, My play; tell your elders whence It comes.” No more the taint of populace, The cancer of submission, the folly of art. My stains are all of this life, Strewn o'er head and hand, Soaked on piercing bone. Steal my stage As you will, long as each bone is paid, And each stain rendered permanent on the farce of your love. I sell wounds for fun to fans, And have a new thing everybody should see! It is an anvil wrought of my inverted Stars. You must turn it, now, Just so. But it will not cleanse It will not show It will swim in your head Until the credit rolls It shall not cleanse It shall not show It will slowly be covered by Dunes, blood, dust... And the film of all that's good will froth and run New flora bathed in blood All cost no sun The film of all that's good will froth and run New flora bathed in blood New bush, no son Emergency. Rock. Of the People For the People By The People Of the People By the People By The People By the People By the People By The People By the People Sell the People Buy The People Emergency Rock.
JEM 01:35
Hark. Lo. Ye, if it please the court... this is an example of a convoluted overture / cacophony in form catch a beating from a coma camera / focus on the norm automatic automatic automatic cool he edited it and edited it and delivered it after school mountain-moving man / tantrum for sale banter and fail / band on a scale a phantom, a male predisposed to getting jiggy in his head presuppose they’ll give a shit before you’re dead to be precise: preset prose arguments for elders and a mint in a black box bugs on your ear and a king that you jack off sample data sample data sample data sample jack a beat instead and off a queen for instant cracker clout or offer her an essay on the virtues of aggression assuming that it’s pretty good’s the new second guessing case in point: the minute boy made his juice on the backs of skeletons stacked irrelevant facts come better when disguised as your own kinda genius we thought it was a song but it turned out to be a penis oh my...a closed eye that won’t cry your whole side is angry but you’re really just bovine you don’t eat your friends unless they come covered in cheese you don’t make amends unless receiving currency substantiated claim that these are the rules of a personality passed it’s the scent of death you recall, not so much the gas parentheses here e.g / e.g. / e.g. / e.g. a skull minus a tongue performs the art of all your uglies that’s the sound of money...the world when it’s round your ass when it’s flat / your back in a cast / your movie at last this is an example of a i.e. soldiering for medals when you’re driving the war car / holding broken bottles by the cut in your forearm sottering your marrow for a notch on a scorecard / held by the imaginary culture police shard of a man with a scab and a tendency to pacify his enemies with radical solemnity a passion for the penalty of acting out offensively / illiterate hyperbole / glass eye vandal verified clause says stop on a consonant / ring on a whim / stomp on a continent / sing your own hymn tra-la-la-la-bullshit exhibit C / exhibit / do explicitly exhibit seven degrees of separation from a cognizant connection to the consequence of hell-bent ciphers he’s a skeleton sniper your honor, this is an example of a (sample data / testimony reveals / illustrated here / supporting evidence) this is an example of a dead man stomping permit me introduce a dead man stomping committed by a dead man stomping the sound of a dead man stomping this is an example of a dead man stomping
AKE 05:49
Gimme that low-carb honeysuckle caramel thigh Shake enough to make a man from the dairy state cry Nice femur Helluva shin Strong clavicle How 'bout it, 'how bout it, 'how bout it, how 'bout it Horns We can coat your skeleton in gold for a fee You can have Mel Gibson's shoulders And Ed Norton's knees Put your time in now, they can't see but they'll believe You got a certain member, we know you got needs Put it in the bone refinery Shove it in the bone refinery Stick it in the bone refinery Na na na na bone refinery Federal executive admitted for free Pony up the marrow get your calcium creed Certified hippie only shit what I eat Killing time at the co-op, fashionably Hand-held stem cell helium spree Coffee in the morning complimentary teats Everyone's down at the b-o-n-e-r-e-f-i-n-ery But forty seconds later and you're wondering who fell Computer-poser premium, the kind of sleep you sell Back to your parents when the going gets techno Immortal with the marrow and a cartilage-free well Logically emotive for the ladies with no cares Folklore head wound sex in song No-clue carpenter, gold beer bong Captivate a left-brain tumor for an upgrade You oughta buy a milk crate and fill it with teeth You oughta think harder but the pills are really cheap You oughta make 'em feel it but the protocol is pummel It's all atrophy anyway: flesh fades Here, take a flyer I distribute them free I got handbills, I got photocopies You can find me at the Kinko's I'm in good with the dweebs Or up north telemarketing, rocking polar fleece So buy you a tibia, buy you peace Outbid empathy, buy out dream Take out celluloid, come next week The blood is free-flowing and the bones are cheap At the b-o-n-e-r-e-f-i-n-eryyyyyyy On the way to use the toilet say hello to your friends Custom engineering excellence, boy you can depend Cancel that subscription, endoplasty is cheap And we're making men of pussies and a bombshell of greed It's all down at the bone refinery Give it to the bone refinery Work it in the bone refinery Deposit in the bone refinery We got a well-dressed sentinel having our fun Daddy caught in coitus wearing kindergarten under-roos Give the hairy eyeball to a woman in a bun All the lonely heroes and a longing for a better butter Pink Moon scattershot, only tell it slant Laureate, Laudable, Robust, Fortified Catch 'em in the act, say hello to the scene Watch it burn on a 40-inch platinum screen The less you listen, the more real you are Study only scores, underscore the part Legitimacy coin, old school for the cops Words are sticks and stones are rocks I'm a drummer, little wonder that I beat off tops Lyricists I got the beaucoup stutter / stutter Wis-con-sin, I got the brew and the butter What do we do when it's supper in the summer? Shuck that corn mama Shuck that corn daddy Shuck that corn baby Bless John Zorn Come on I got plenty of closet space What do I need from the b-o-n-e-r-e-f-i-n-e-r-yyyyyyyy
Sell Me More 03:17
Will 04:00
You will sit down to write a letter with no recipient. You will stumble, but it will feel true. Do you not stumble? You will look out the window onto the empty street, and appear to reflect. But it is appearance. You are soaking. You are certain that all the air in the house is conspiring to hum. And you will sing to it, silently. You will consider your noble deceased, those who left you here to finish a painting already sold, displayed, and burned – with joy. It is with joy. You will sleep, and you will wake, and it will be memory... and even that will be memory. The ink will age, remembering. The ink well gives, eventually. You will consider the fallen snow, the falling snow, and the unawares sea that will soon watch his children be swept up into their perfect dream. You will know each crystalline picture, named by our nameless admirer. You will admire her. You may love her. It is just fine, to guess. You will be studied by people. People are studious. Pay attention to the students – they pay with their youthfulness. You will open a book and greet your reflected image. It is image, imagination, and, already, gone. You will close a book and imagine another. Tomorrow (image) another. You will meet her a thousand times. Or once, years ago. It will be years ago. Before you know her. It will occupy you. It will make its home in your head; will set up shop in your soul; will commandeer your hands. Don’t buy nothing just yet. You will hear a different set of notes, while wandering. You will be in awe of many people. They will applaud this. It will be trying. Try to become their applause. You will have to be chaos. You will have to collect consciousness without keeping him, for the rest of the senses – the less aware – are waiting. You will clap. You will attend your friends’ ceremonies, your family’s rituals, your own funeral. You will clap. You will intend to tell your father. You will attempt to steal your mother. You will extend the life of your teachers. And you will end. It is appearance, image. You will envy every lit candle. You will wish upon each wick. You will stitch her a wound that only you can undo. You will put on a stolen sweater and saunter off to school, pretending to be her pupil, but you will not be in her eyes. You will see, it is sight. She will look...luminous. You will keep moving. You will find yourself an old forest. You will befriend the picture, the shoots, the stalks. Then you will fire. You will light. Will, be done. It is appearance, joy, image, will. You will be done.
Thanks 05:43


Is That A Riot? was made entirely with horns, drums and voice. There was also a megaphone in the room.

D.H. Skogen played the beats and percussions and contributed the vocals.
Charley Wagner played his B Flat trumpet.
Jeff Maddern and Mike Boman also played their respective B Flat trumpets.
Joe Goltz played his slide trombone.
Matt Hanzelka also played his (Matt’s) slide trombone.
Joshua Smith played his tenor saxophone.
Kenny Bentley played his sousaphone.

Josh took a solo on Waiver.
Charley, Joe and D.H. took solos on But You Can’t Run.
Josh is the soloist on Ake.
Charley and Jeff traded fours on Is That A Riot?
Joe and Charley took solos on Sell Me More or Like You Just Don’t Care.
Jeff and Matt took solos on Thanks, and Josh is blowing at the end.

All songs produced by D.H. Skogen.

Is That A Riot? was recorded in 2005 at Layered Studios by Aaron Sleator and D.H. Skogen.

Mixed by D.H. Skogen at Layered Studios.
Mastered by Roger Siebel at SAE Mastering (www.saemastering.com).
Art/Design by Scott Pauli (artandsons.com).

Copyright 2006 Layered Music.


released August 1, 2006


all rights reserved



Youngblood Brass Band Madison, Wisconsin

Original riot jazz crew, wrecking stages everywhere all the time since 1997. New EP 'Pax Instrumentals’ out now. Members are available for online lessons, commissions, arrangements, and custom studio work as well. Thanks for listening.

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