Get all 11 Youngblood Brass Band releases available on Bandcamp and save 25%.
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.
1. |
20 Questions
03:57
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universally loved by british toddlers
by homeless french tuba players
by stoned american co-eds
6 albums, 15 years, 22 countries, who am I?
(Youngblood Brass Band)
try not to love me.
I know right / for the people coming night after night / my whole life here / maybe why I don’t have a wife / my lone vice: kill a drummer, light up a mic / it’s so nice / Youngblood: bangers and brass / happened so fast / summer lovin’ my ass / we got more hot shit than you can shake a dick at / so ill, at the door you get a stamp and a sick bag
you coming to the gig? I think your lady is / I think she’s having thoughts of having David’s kids
you coming to the gig? I think your man knows that we got two fully automatic trombones
you coming to the gig? I think it’s worth the price, I think the saxophone section dresses awful nice!
you coming to the gig? I heard your mom say, ‘I could sit and listen to the trumpets all day!’
here’s the part we all break: who am I?
(Youngblood Brass Band)
...and back / where you been for the last, like, decade? ‘last night? sex date. right hand.’ no, I mean how could you think that we could quit this sound? ‘well, Nat left the band, it really let me down.’ understandable / his mandible alone will handle all the tones your man could know / intangible like how you make it danceable / bands thinking you can do this: your hands are full / there’s your answer folks / you can have the notes but it doesn’t mean your music’s not a joke / and I don’t care what kind of funny hat you’re tipping, friend: just because you play a horn you ain’t sitting in / ‘don’t be mean, that’s my boyfriend, Vincent’ / listen: asshole is my pre-existing condition / I rap, it’s my job description / well, that and dissing
you coming to the gig? ‘I heard it’s so bomb. I heard they got not one but TWO dudes on the floor toms!’
you coming to the gig? ‘it’s not a lot of cash. I’d cut off a nut to get the tuba’s autograph!’
you coming to the gig? ‘well, France is kinda far.’ ‘too bad, you should’ve seen the staff dancing on the bar!’
you coming to the gig? ‘don’t wanna miss the boat’ you can tell your crew that one time mister Skogen missed a note.
hey mister tenor saxophone: who am I?
(Youngblood Brass Band)
couple things: we don’t listen to anyone else’s say-so / we don’t got stage clothes / we don’t make great dough / we don’t play lame shows / we don’t do tame prose / and if you’re trying to break our balls you better aim low / we do blaze foes / we do flame throw / we do maim those sticking with the same old lame-o playdough preschool-age flow / don’t know how fame go / you know my name though
you coming to the gig? ‘it’s off the hook, right? I’ll play your kindergarten graduation. book flights!’
you coming to the gig? there’s no one else to call. these 10 dudes unplugged trump them all.
you coming to the gig? yep. three letters: y / b / b / forever.
all night all day get down get loud who am I? (Youngblood Brass Band)
for the kids for the heads every breath til I’m dead who am I? (Youngblood Brass Band)
for the past for the now for the fire for the sound who am I? (Youngblood Brass Band)
for the shows for the fans for the love for the band who am I? (Youngblood Brass Band)
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2. |
Cite the Line
04:11
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you keep talking we keep touring we stay fire you stay boring
god damn that’s a mean beat / drum olympics: clean sweep / who the fuck is y-double-b / repeat / who the fuck is Rick Double Bruce / retweet / lay in the cut like when a Skywalker needs heat / I’m from a state in a Scott Walker deep freeze / forward / one mode: beastly / holier than 90210 Priestly / ready set let’s rap / everyone’s neck snaps / every tuba dude who think you play better test Nat / have plenty of cheddar if tour mic checks cashed / no health care: can you check out my sex rash? / thanks but no, not right now / sorry boys and girls I’m on mission to imagine a more noisy world / a magician and a badger / these musicians wanna lather my ass crack / face-palm / hashtag bridge
this night this stage these beats this flame this is where you cite the line
this place this sound this taste this town all day cite the line
this band this group these hands this crew YB cite the line
this fight this choice this mic this noise
you keep talking we keep touring we stay fire you stay boring
what? / you clocking amateur hours / I rock a band with no power / massive damage to cowards / patching kids that are sour / clamming up from the chowder / packing peaks made of powder / runny nose, runny mouth / bloody flows coming out / funny how money slows cunning down / twenty shows, all packed / call back / Youngblood numbers up / one drug: coffee cup / lots of love and bubblegum / grabbing nuts and rubbing them together / hold that thought / please exhibit a bit of better banter, baldy / spilling oil slick flow / call me Valdez / put an Exxon the spot selling Texas tea / send your girl an elegy / she can’t find the melody / she’d lose at a spelling bee but her boyfriend is hella deep / this man only knows how to bite what’s mine / you got other evidence? cite the line
this night this stage these beats this flame this is where you cite the line
this place this sound this taste this town all day cite the line
this band this group these hands this crew YB cite the line
this fight this choice this mic this noise
you keep talking we keep touring we stay fire you stay boring
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3. |
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
05:44
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o sea, can you say ‘die by brawn’s surly might?’
on the grid / got a government contract to overcharge: no bid / less and less of us living large: no shit / a lesson plan about cutting art: blow kiss / I love the way you say it’s for the kids / quote this: I love the way you make it fully legit because you got a television bully pulpit / what did the pope say? Jesus never asked a leper for a co-pay / one for the money / two for the money / are you a senator? you for the money / we lose all the money / the truth or the money / the youth are the money / we stupid for money / is it clear enough? ‘yeah, but it ain’t weird enough’ / yayayayayayayayaboo / fixed / I love cynical, senseless, selfish tricks / now it sounds like America / sick!
let’s bow our heads and pray our teachers don’t get raises
let’s pray our children get degrees that cost what spaceships do
america you’re so cool
all for more
bravado the
chart leads to the
delta
echoing across the
gulf a
hotel
in diaspora’s best slum where
Juliet runs drugs by the
kilo
leave the mic alone
no embers
or scars give me the flame but no plot
whiskey tango foxtrot
America, why the long face? so we broke our vows / so failure tagged us it / the mortal pang in Stanley Kunitz’s flaming wheel of bones / you made us run amok / you made us grab the largest pieces of metal and froth and clang / so what good is lyric, Orpheus / what good the nail? what notes now?
get off of it / I admit: I’m a bit unruly / ignore U.N. rulings when a country will sue me / here’s a cheerleader secret for you pompon heads: ‘is that a riot’ is just something that my mom says / ‘oh shit, Judy!’ signed ‘yours, truly’ / newsflash: you can’t cover your chemo? move fast to where they care about people / for real though I love all the music we make / I love the beautiful states / I love hip-hop and rock / I love the usual things / I love my black tube socks / I love drumline, drum corps, drum trolls, drum war, drum rolls, drum lore, kids that want to drum more / Shadow on my wrist / battle EQ with a fist like jujujujujujujujuju gock / it doesn’t matter if we kill their dreams our most beaten-down always go and steal the scene, so:
let’s bow our heads and pray the poor will keep enlisting
let’s pray we’re sending them to war to fight for CEOs
america I thought we were bros
hit up a
Quebecois hospital when in
Rome explode
see no error a
unified form poorly fitted to the
victor goes the gilded cow an
ex-marine denied pension all chains
yanked for your service
you lose. hit me:
whiskey tango foxtrot
America, no one can beat you in gun crime / no one can touch you in musical revolutions / but your kids aren’t that bright, and they eat like shit / you made our hearts’ cadence wed the off- and back-beat so that their swaying hips wouldn’t arouse suspicion farther north / you created colloquialisms that mean the opposite of their literal definition and then made that policy an international platform / an exchange for merit / a bartering professional / a charm offensive / and a hearse for every ode / America, our concertmaster, you must conduct yourself from that gloriously out-of-tune piano / the soloist is stoned / Othar Turner says ‘heap see, but mighty few know.’ / while the world makes flesh of flesh we etch our names in gold / we fetch our flaming bones
let’s bow our heads and pray that science is a put on
let’s pray clarity of thought a passing fad / America who’s your dad
let’s bow our heads and pray we privatize the whole thing
if you want your mail delivered now you’re going to have to pay
let’s make this shit a feudal estate
let’s bow our heads
let’s bow our heads and say a prayer tonight
my cool america
I’m still in love with you
o sea, can you say ‘die by brawn’s surly might?’
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4. |
A Gust Inside the God
04:34
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you have a ball you set alight you throw it up you don’t look
like what? a trophy next to me? an analog / a metaphor / a synecdoche / an argument to have a snap vasectomy / a median that means your hands have atrophied / immediate discourse / I mediate six swords / a media trick horse / in medias res, dorks / ‘drop right here when you’re ready to bounce’ / ‘15 years, Youngblood get down’ / stay out of sight from the stars and critics / I’ve evaded the shit-hitting / fans are with it / guard the color well / ‘yeah flags, get it’ / I’m gonna set it off, you go home and shed it / I heard you twice the first time you said it / keep rhymes embedded / each guy a veteran pro at murdering shows / burgers and bros / your sentences blow / my sentences? whoa / a death one on my bed for breakfast / my best hope: make it hot and forget this / make good on a promise to rep this / make fire by sparking a set list / have a ball, set a light, throw it up, don’t look, do work / just keep walking / because it’s all just a night in a club in a book / truth hurts / please stop talking
you have a ball you set alight you throw it up you don’t look
at the city with the most love for brass bands / nola: the crescent where cats are playing tambourine like a mardi gras indian / need a beat? Uncle Lionel: that’s the man / bring the heat on a motherfucking frying pan like the world commanded you to hit this here hoe blade, cowbell, bottle of beer / all signs of work turned to fire tonight / the kind of symphonies america doesn’t like / who cares / they got a word no one else can write / but why does all our best work have to come out of strife / the baddest kid you’ll never hear is in New Orleans for life / so here’s a simile, love: I’m like a mic with a cord running from wisconsin to the 6th ward where’s there’s a drummer in a grave marked ‘Shavers’ / and I bet he’s still wearing a Hot 8 shirt / the earth’s got a funny kind of pay dirt / yo Dinerral, plug me in, I gotta say words / because I missed the funeral and the parade, Sir / and I’m sorry your memorial’s a lame verse / but have a ball, set a light, throw it up, don’t look, do work / just keep walking / because it’s all just a night in a club in a book / truth hurts / please stop talking
you have a ball you set alight you throw it up you don’t look
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5. |
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the plank will nod, and you will go
hello chasm, you friendly endnote with a few well-placed swords
hello dawn: maternal gray that hasn’t decided to meet the sun’s demands
it was that bastard with the line, the man we call Finish, the place the nothing cross
he does not see a palm, a hue ...he sees you hurl toward him, and snaps
just when there’s a rhythm get a little bit of salt in your eye / the price of living: get a little bit of love and you die / stay underwater, only coming up a minimal time / write a letter to the hidden girl under the line / I read it all, and I let it be known / I got a new kind of grammar, article-prone / and so but tearing you apart at the dome / Hal calls in from a particle phone / original syntactical drone / ‘for whom is this supposedly fun?’ / Dave: nil / OED: one / go
a different set of normals, like winning a crying contest, like looking at your eye
in a mirror before telling the glass guy where to blow it
like the lowest form of flattery, my crushing you
play not the space above the instrument; tie your hammock to the sky
and take your leave
but the king pales to eventually that people will say / a full sail doesn’t matter when your boat is a fake / a pink whale you imagine with an elephant face / in the pool not invited to your personal wave / get bent, get a new meaning out of the shape / get straight, get a new mouth out of the pain / open up and the words come tumbling in / no fair, get a bump and you’re humble again / you don’t really want to trouble your friends / you don’t really want to suffer the lens / you don’t really want to go
and you call your friends and you make a list and you pick up a pen and you stare at it
and you setup a screen and you miss what you miss and you want to believe when she praises it
and there’s not enough light and a whole lot of fish and more to process than you’re comfortable with
and the water is clean and the words feel right but the eye...
what did you see? what did it mean? for whom is it fun, the setting sun?
how does one speak without being seen? how does one make the plank break?
how does one leave the silent mark? how does one play the final part?
what did you see? what did it mean? how does one make the plank break?
I see a dark proposition: the black hole with glittering teeth / the one condition.
the dust on your tongue clotted with apology. the topology of a noose. prefix porn.
the glow, the glare... and Lull, sulking like a kid in a corner.
still, after all the dirty rungs’ ascent, the scalding coin above, your family below:
the plank will nod and you will go
and you call your friends and you make a list and you pick up a pen and you stare at it
and you setup a screen and you miss what you miss and you want to believe when she praises it
and there’s not enough light and a whole lot of fish and more to process than you’re comfortable with
and the water is clean and the words feel right but the eye...
what did you see? what did it mean? for whom is it fun, the setting sun?
how does one speak without being seen? how does one make...
what do you see now? what does it mean now? how did you make out the last shape?
what do you see now? what does it mean now? how do we fill in the blank page?
what do you see now? what does it mean now? why did you take out the final joke?
what do you see now? what does it mean now? how do you tell the plank no?
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6. |
É La É
04:46
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7. |
Overtime
04:20
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8. |
Erik Owen
05:31
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9. |
Wrestlevania
03:47
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10. |
Ain't Nobody
05:40
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11. |
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12. |
Third Half
07:43
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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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