Colour Me Wednesday Split LP

by Spoonboy

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.
    Purchasable with gift card

      name your price


strange times these events hold: we draw sharp lines with harsh words. we speak similar language, but there’s gaps in the information. you want me out of my skull. i wouldn’t know about that. it’s never quite in control. it always finds a way out. when no one seems to have heard what you’re not talking about, and we tell different stories. recount. that’s the sound of: maybe the last few years or a lost love. we speak repetitive phrases in these same old familiar ways. we never look at the world through quite the same set of eyes. we shift and crumble and crawl and no one’s getting it right, and who could say who they are with words so poorly defined? and we tell different stories.
i thought again about ya eric. i took a bus past the house i grew up in, but it’s just some walls to keep the warm air in. you’re just a number on a scrap in my pocket, and these allusions to home, they found a place in me too. i used to long for some warm insulation, but i’ve grown accustomed to the cold wind blowing in my room, singing “ooh…” it’s not a matter of strength that pushes blood through your veins. it’s just a matter of a heart that keeps pumping it, and that’s a matter of another sort. i used to think that one day i’d settle into some place. i used to think i’d find the will to be content. i settled into a dispossession of sentiment. but that’s alright. i though again about ya eric. i thought i might unfold your number, yeah. i thought i’d hear your voice, i might hear it. i thought about the pain i might put you through. i thought again about ya eric.
expired bus pass, cough up change you found, let this be your best luck. you’re tired, caffeine compounds, make your rounds, you’ve been so fed up. glassy eyed computer romance couldn’t last, see you don’t dance at bars. one night off once a week and you’re sweating out jack in basement parties. and i was feeling high and low, dancing with someone that i didn’t know. took off and pit stopped at the side of the road. where i spent a couple dollars on a stereo, hooked it up in my room and prepared for winter, pulling out tracks that could melt the snow, but the bias was wrong and the tape deck’s broken. i was tuning through the static on the radio when your voice in my head said “i’m glad to know you. leave it on a song that we used to know.” and the voice that rang out said “don’t dream, it’s over.” piss test, and your best guess is you might pass or face the consequence. here’s hoping this turns out for the best. realization slowly sinks in. you don’t call back. i go out on my own. weeks later i’m still thinking how you said you’re better off alone. but you were feeling high and low, and dancing with someone that you didn’t know was just something you needed to keep out the cold.
oh you sweet talking child, lord, don’t you know somebody’s calling at your doorstep? oh you sweet talking child, lord, don’t you know somebody’s calling at your doorstep? oh you sweet talking child, lord, somebody’s fallen hard, now you’re watching your step. oh you sweet talking, you sweet talking, you sweet talking child. if i ever caught wind that you’d been anything less than a gentleman, there’d be a consequence that you could not talk down. take that veil off mister, and these eyes, they will be there watching you. you cannot hide from the things they know, so say it like you mean it. tell me. you left a taste in the back of my mouth and i try not to think of it. and believe that it’s over now, but it’s hard because you’re full of it.
you were the type to keep things moving along. things could collapse, yeah. they could be replaced. but it takes a push to stand in the front lines, and it takes a push to make things happen. though all along there’d be reformist apologists, all so critical if we’re not polite when we say “this isn’t the life that i asked for, but i’m ready to take what’s mine.” and you could that it wasn’t enough. but we knew even then that it wasn’t enough, and so what? should things tumble and shatter, would you scream any louder? even when you were sweet, you were a bastard. heed the call of a mass of opinion. join a culture of pacification. you’ll be grouped, classified and dismissed, if that’s easier. it’s not the same thing as holding a position. if it’s not enough to sing a song like a firebrand, what you need is a charge and a spark, not a letter of resignation, admitting defeat. denying the things you used to say when you were sweet.


split LP with colour me wednesday!

if i'm out of download credits, you can download this for free at:

you can pre-order the LP or cassette from lauren records here:

listen to colour me wednesday's side here:

david combs - guitars, vocals
michael cantor - bass, vocals
mike harpring - drums
emma cleveland - cello, violin
theo hilton - vocals
kevin connell - vocals
althea baird - vocals

recorded by peter helmis at studio p at big mama's warehouse.
mastered by dead air studios.
technical help from dave eck, steve steckler, joe mitra & denny muller.


released May 29, 2014




Spoonboy Washington D.C., D.C.

"a poor man's belle and sebastian" - MRR

contact / help

Contact Spoonboy

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this album or account

If you like Spoonboy, you may also like: