MONiKER LP

by Moniker

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1.
03:58
2.
02:17
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5.
05:30
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04:34
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05:37

about

Music about music

"Moniker have a refreshingly broad sound...the band veer from disco abandon to crunching southern rock, recalling everyone from Orange Juice to White Denim to Kate Bush."
Clash

"Moniker are in possession of a precocious mastery of form....Proves anew what a great moment this is to be alive to new music."
Stereo Embers Magazine

credits

released April 22, 2016

Songs by Jordan
Music by Moniker

Jordan Scott - voices, guitar, electric piano, organ, other strings, synths
T.D. Crowley - electric guitar, lap steel, synths
Jeremy Burke - bass
Matt Shuham - drums, declarations against drums

Recorded at Rift Studios in Brooklyn, NY
Engineered + Mixed by Joseph Colmenero
Produced by Jordan and T.D.

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about

Moniker Virginia

I'm Jordan, and here is some music I wrote

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Track Name: Rest My Head
I just wanna rest my head
Track Name: GC6
I've got no recollection
Of your record collection
She said that cassettes,
They were the best,
And I thought, well is this a test?

I pull no tricks
With a GC6
Beats make you sick
W/o a GC6

Since you noticed me
I'll give it 2 U 4 free
Whatever I found first
Is what claimed the thirst
But I don't stop to wonder what it means

I pull no tricks
With a GC6
Too many sick kickflips
W/o a GC6
Track Name: I Was Born Disco, But...
O, I was born disco
But then the weights came
Like so much rain

From endless expanses
To numbered avenues
Never having a clue
Always 2 steps up and 2 steps down

I had never called it indie
It was only a melody
And a dancing beat

But O what it meant to me, messages sent to me
In codes I would never have tried to pretend I know
Immortality bestowed by posterity
I will sing my heart out til it's on my sleeve
I was born disco, but...

Like a MacArthur?
Or a Patton on the playground
Say you were just fooling around

So you could be kind to me
Or you could be blind to me
But spare me the humanity

I never called it indie
It was only a melody
And a dancing beat

But O what it meant to me, messages sent to me
In codes I would never have tried to pretend I know
Immortality bestowed by posterity
But give me a waltz or a mixtape of schmaltz
Like a father figure who'll be home for dinner
I will sing my heart out til it's on my sleeve
All of my senses before my intelligence
Four on the floor til my heart beats no more
I was born disco, but now I....I don't know
Track Name: Deadened (Asuka Sorta)
Once I said
Put the weights on the present
Well now they're here and I feel leadened
Not dead
Deadened

I wish I had more to say
I've been trying to write the day away, away, away

If I put the focus on what I could see
Look at this, pretty soon it will be a memory

Maybe if I wrapped it in strings
Maybe if I bought myself things
If I bought you things
What would make my soul breathe

If I could just get on up out of bed (get up!)
If I could just get on up out of my head (get on up!)


Get up.


Once I said
Put the weights on the present
Well now they're here and I feel leadened
Knocked dead
Deadened
Not dead
Deadened
Track Name: Else
I wish I could be somebody else
Somebody you'd like
With the answers you'd like
Then I wouldn't have to stay up at night
I wish I could be somebody else

What if I'm more obsessed with you than anyone I meet?
Most days I think I'll never land on my feet
I can't even see my feet
I'm just obsessed with me, aren't I

I wish I could be somebody else
Somebody you'd like
With the answers you'd like
The kind to keep us up at night
I wish I could be somebody else

I don't have epiphanies, just things I never thought about
Because there so obvious IIII'm embarassed how long it took to figure out
My problems are still there, I just don't write them down
I don't write so well sometimes, well, you know...



I put on jeans to write this
Maybe sweatpants would have been more symbolic

Else, Old English (elles--related to elles in French?); Proto-Germanic (aljaz), Gothic Aljis; Roman, Alius; Greek, Allos.
Can we go back any farther?

How far back in history do we have to go before I find me?
In the march of history what will become of me?

Maybe I should be an attorney at law?
Would I want to be an attorney at all
COULD I HAVE BEEN PUT ON THIS EARTH—TO OWN MY VERY OWN HOUSE?
Put me in the pleasure box and I'll figure it out!

I'm trying to be somebody else
Somebody else—else—else—else
I guess we'll see?
Track Name: LA
I recognize my facticity:
Steady beats
Shifting tonalities
Easy melodies
Sensible nonsense
W/ or w/o pretense

And I wonder
If I was born over there
If I was born over there
If I was born over there

(Just write yourself if you write yourself you can type yourself you can)

Forgetting what you said to me—
That's your favorite melody?
You know you can always fool me
And even my interests
The appetites of my frontal lobe
Are still bound to the moment
Tonight I wanna read Foucault
(But who knows what I'll want tomorrow?)

The annihilation of facticity! Eventually!
Can I be who I want in heaven?
Will I still have to be someone?

And I wonder
If I was born in LA
If I was born in LA
If I was born in LA
Track Name: Second To Last
Some days I just write to write
But you just talk to talk
And I can never really quite figure out what you're saying

I watched the sunset tonight
Now there's so much to do
And I'm so far behind

I locked myself inside all day
To make my life work
I put my life away

And I just wanted to see everything
Wanted you to hear me
Just do things naturally

So should I shout
Should I scream
Am I still bound to all my juvenile dreams?

Not a day
Not a day goes by
Where I don't ask myself
Is it still worth it to try?


My biggest love used to be a city
Now I wish I was out
The city is everything

So put me in a room filled with grace
Or a vast empty space
I don't care just put me someplace

Tell me, should I shout?
Should I scream?
Am I still bound to all my juvenile dreams?

Not a day
Not a day goes by
Where I don't ask myself
Why do I even try?
Track Name: Bayreuth
The left side of your face
Boiled with age
Your shoulders disappearing
Like a rain-soaked page
Faded red, faded red
Never to fade again

A burnt nose, a plucked rose
And crack down your right side
The more I see
The more real you are to me
But I can't look at your eyes
Long lashes make no ashes

When did we all want such long hair?
I can't recall, I can't recall

Take my soul from me
And see what it could be
Before you
There were violins and uds
And faux-pensive moods
Give me an accordion and I may not know what to do

Let me kiss your lips in operatic style
Leave it to a douchebag to write the Siegfried Idyll
For wife, with private orchestra

Let's fly to Bayrut, Beireuth, Beirut, Bayreuth
I can't recall, can't recall
Perhaps my beard will turn to wisps of stone someday
But I couldn't recall
Seems so many miles away

Start with the Greeks
Up to those who call themselves meek
Higher and higher
I don't get much wiser
Gold clouds don't cover everything, no time to contemplate personal
Paradise, high intensity
Face begins to boil, I guess it's just the oil
But always we come back to Portrait in Red