Four More Songs By:

by Nap Eyes

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about

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For the better part of nine decades, we at Image Factory have been hunting down music in case it dies in the dust. In fact that is the kind of music we searchh for, and then we try to scavenge whatever's left. This week IF met up with Nap Eyes manager, Mr. Nape Yes, and spoke to him about the band's work, their forthcoming release of 4 More Songs By: , and their realizations of the near inevitability of commercial failure.

IF: Good evening Mr. Yes, thank you for agreeing to meet with us. Before we go any further, we are curious why you wanted to meet at evening in the woods in winter?

Y: Haven't you ever done this kind of thing before? Hahaha, not an innuendo, I am just curious. By the way, are you women or men?

IF: We are a group of women and men.

Y: Ah, so you are -- let that be a lesson to you!

IF: The boys recorded their first four-song tape, Nap Eyes, in August 2011. This was actually preceded, was it not, by an earlier, secret tape, which we are told nobody has ever heard- not even their singer Lt. Major Chapman?

Y: That's right my dears. Lt. Major gave us strict orders not to play him the songs, even if later he were to beg us. That is exactly what happened.

IF: But you chose to release the second [first] tape. What made things different this time?

Y: Well, the Naps knew better what they were doing you know? Seamus and Josh were locking the new slow punk beat, and they knew how to put Lt at ease, even with his old-timey personality. Like the same with romancing and spinning yarns you know? Plus by this time, back from long distance the guitar player, their old friend Brad was throwing down on the tracks. Sometimes, they were like, ripping through the walls of Charles's studio.

IF: You’ve said you don’t think they’ll be able to create a sound like that again. Why do you say so?

Y: I don’t think they ever will, no. Lt has grown even more introspective and vague, and downcastedly or defiantly refuses to ever write short songs again. . . He's always stealing his own melodies, and just sits for hours improvising grocery lists over the same I V vi IV chord progression. Very hard to work with someone under these conditions you see. . . He really did think he was on to something with Dean Cook.

IF: And what about this second [third] tape?

Y: Well, the songs will have to speak for themselves I guess. They ghosted from the boys, through the patch cords and mic cables into the hands of Dave Ewenson at Echo Chamber on a night in May –the 25th I think – and were mixed to their present form by one M. Wright, co-founder of Hot Money Records, esquire esquire esquire.

IF: And the future?

Y: The future is unwritten. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joe_Strummer:_The_Future_Is_Unwritten

credits

released 08 September 2012

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Track Name: Madames of Fortune
Now the madams of fortune
Will never know the depths of my pain
But it's because of this they'll never know
We feel the same

I feel the same as you baby-
Yeah right
In my mind and my body-
That's right

I never thought of you as whipped
I only thought of you as lovers
The idea of being whipped today
Alone under your covers

If I am whipped it's by myself
It's by myself it's by myself

Misery holds my focus fast
The floor has markings on it
The floor is far from me at last
The cards are folded on the grass
The grass is wet with spit
The grass is wet because it has to be

You tried sleeping with your guitar
In case it'd make you feel better at night
Brought you closer to your dreams
But you really wished it'd bring you
The celibate life

All of you may not know this about me
But for a while I wanted nothing else
But to be free
Well really I should say
I wanted nothing but to want nothing but to be

Misery holds my focus fast
The floor has markings on it
The floor is far from me at last, at last
The cards are folded on the grass
The grass is wet with spit
The grass is wet because it has to be
Track Name: Four Strong Winds
Four strong winds
Four strong winds
Four strong winds

And my father made
These winds into
A bitter curse
For me and you
The honest and the daring going out
Blindly on a limb
To make themselves feel better and then
Feel worse again

Four strong winds are blowing on my corpse bag skin
Four strong winds are blowing on my body bundle
But they're making me feel uptight -- fencing me in
Oh Lord, Lord, what is the price of being humble?

Joel Osteen I don't wan't to call out
Just one canonical evangelist preacher
For it may be that you are at heart
An honest and caring and kindhearted teacher
But when the chills leave me be
If they believe me any weaker
I'll come back and see what the cost is for
The young and eager spiritual guide
And his disciples

Four strong winds are blowing on my corpse bag skin
Four strong winds are blowing on my body bundle
But they're making me feel uptight -- sickening my grin
Oh Lord, Lord, what is the price of being humble?

White oleander
White children waiting
In line before the gatekeeper
The good teacher hesitating
Searching for his credit card
Searching for his debit card
Searching for his ID card
His certification

And behind them, the artist
Forever complaining
Sees the sun and the wind but
To him it's always raining
Scoffing at the teacher
Scoffing at the students
Scoffing at the gatekeeper
With self-righteous impudence

(And if it's hard and if it's hard 'f we never learn we never learn)

Nap Eyes cause a ruckus
Set once and for all
The song in the skull
To win evil hearts
And not know what to do with them all

Set once and for all
The song in the skull
To win people's hearts
And not know what to do with them all
Track Name: A Stolen Boy
Not having to wait my turn
To wait makes me irate,
Makes me the bastard on my tongue

'Twas not the look of love
To look not anxious
Look me in the eyes and give me one

The man must be confident
The mage force shocking
Mage force blocking every other one

The girl must be thoughtful and
Not made for talking
Made for talking back - the weaker one

She would be miserable out here
But for my glorious skyscraper vir - I'll

Take my handsomest chimes for ransom
This four-line find for my forest phantom

Take my hands for this
Gold and lance for this
Glorious chance for my
Girlfriend phantom

These are the keys to my cradle
Are the keys to crawl
The souls of insolent slaves
The reservation walls
But I'm the pacify child
Robbed from the baby carriage
I'm a stolen boy
I'm a stolen newborn baby boy
I'm a sullen boy
I'm a sullen newborn baby blue boy
Track Name: White Disciple
Said the White Disciple when he sent for me
It doesn't matter what anyone was born to be
But your life is pointless unless it sets you free
Won't you set me free, won't you set me free?

It was at the fountain where water gathered
We had found Roman signs on the paths behind
But to my spiritual brother I remain spiritually blind
Until my venetian blinds was left behind

Reeling me in,
My soul full of sin
My bowl full of gin
Replace it with white wine

Said the White Disciple when he sent for me
It doesn't matter what anyone was born to be
But your life is pointless unless it sets you free
Won't you set me free, won't you set me free?

Now when the other boys walked by I learned to call out to them
Said to my older brother "I recognize him;
"Yes, younger brother, won't you please come in?
"Sit down for a while; cross your legs for a while
"And hold your hands in while I read you a lesson
"From nineteen-hundred and ninety-three
"Yes, younger brother, won't you listen to me
"And the words of the master?"

Said the White Disciple when he sent for me
It doesn't matter what anyone was born to be
But your life is pointless unless it sets you free
Won't you set me free, won't you set me free?

The boy was bright like a burning cinder
He was young like all the good martyrs have been
The crimes of his childhood burn in him like a fever
The dreams of his youth ready to be fenced in

...Yes, but the little boy was faster

We awoke one morning in the Dharma house
In Krishna's temple, in the cathedral's crypt
And found a note where his shoes had slipped
In a sloppy, right-handed, new Roman script

And shit
Do you know what it said?
It said "Masters, masters, forgive me please;
"I don't want to leave you lonely,
"But the fruit is still ripening on the tree
"And if it's not for you
"How could it be for me?
"Yes if it's not for you, how could it be for me
"If I was born. . .?"

Said the White Disciple when he sent for me
It doesn't matter what anyone was born to be
But your life is pointless unless it sets you free
Won't you set me free, won't you set me free?