Leather Sunrooms

by Fake Buildings

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about

These songs are loose scraps recorded between 2012 and 2017. They're part of ongoing larger 365 song project: each one commemorates a specific calendar date in a full year cycle.

They songs on this release commemorate the calendar dates:

1) January 29th
2) April 7th
3) July 13th
4) November 23rd
5) February 22nd


All sounds by Caleb Glasser except the backing vocals on Thick Paste. Dani sang some of those.

credits

released January 9, 2017

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Fake Buildings Halifax, Nova Scotia

Steadily rusting since 1997.

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Track Name: Thick Paste
I tried to retreat.
For a while there
everything reminded
me of donated hair.

The world kept waving
like a tremolo
and I felt like a suitcase
full of meat being
carried down Quinpool road.

How can you have it any better than that?

I drink cologne.
I stay up late.
Marijuana smokes me into a thick paste.
The days wind by like bright cyclones.
Sometimes I feel like Karl Malone
Is in my house, holding my hand.
I think that we're friends?

And How can you have it any better than that?

There's no way.
Track Name: All Around Us Plants Were Having Sex
I saw your mother
traipsing along
a well known strand of mobile
homes in the protuberant blackness.

Traffic cops and crows kept
trying to hold her hand.
She looked alright.
I would have thought she was an actress.
Or a sociopath.

Something about
the way she was breathing in seemed especially Canadian.
I thought about the phrase "Let's see this out".
I tried to taste the sky inside my mouth.

And minutes later your mother tackled me from behind.
She said: the future will be brighter than it seems.
I put both fists in my mouth, I told her that I knew that line.
I do know that line.
I read it on Match.com in one of my dreams.
I bit down on her forearm.
She dragged me around for a while.
My body went so limp, hers went so tight.
She said "everybody wants a version of Joan Baez."
She wasn't right,
But it felt like she was right.

All around us Plants were having sex.
A Voice in the background said: "You could be next."
The sky was roughly the colour of this song.
I closed my eyes and I became your mom.
Track Name: Eichmann in Jerusalem
Despite the nervous talking,
The world goes on.
The sun pours down like coffee and
it blackens everyone.

And my friends?
My friends swallow paint
And appoint themselves
To the ranks of neglected saints.
They listen to Gang of Four when they
Make love to their boyfriends.
They listen to "Desert Shore"
When they make love to their hands.
In the corner of the liquor store
They draw white faces on the floor.
While I kneel on my haunches
In the parking lot outside.

I'm reading Eichmann in Jerusalem to a dog.

Underneath the weather
The world abides.
The sun shoots sparks,
We gather them
Up with our eyes.

And my friends?
my friends live upstairs.
Every night they dream
About filling out questionnaires.
They think about Sharon Stone
When they get fucked
By their girlfriends.
They picture their parents' bones
When they watch T.V. online.
In the corner of the coffee shop
They see white faces in their cups.
While I sit in my Honda
In the parking lot outside.

I'm reading Eichmann in Jerusalem (to a dog) in the fall.
Track Name: Is David Duchovny Real?
I took my time
I let it run out.
I think it's gone now.
I think I lost it
In the slow pulse of the train
As the country drags my thin physique across it.

I've been awake for 17 hours.
I wouldn't turn back now, even if I could.
There's nothing left to shove into a car.

Around my on the train the men (all older) get
too drunk and talk about Jewish power.
The women here look like loose translations
of Dora Maar.
Especially when they play cards.
In the darkening savannah of the observation car.
I keep myself awake with songs that no one else has ever heard.
They sink out of oblivion and embed themselves in the shaking seats and creaking shelves around me.

The locomotive car keeps howling.
Hauling its thickness west.
Dragging me into the mountains.
Into an endlessness I can almost hear.

I'd like to take my time.
And set it on fire in a restaurant
Devoted to Duchovny's late career.
Instead, I packed my bags
And took the train as soon as I could.
I needed to be covered in a different sort of steam.

I'm not gonna be a waitress anymore.
I'm not gonna say the same 4 words again and again in a row.
I'm not gonna suck the cocks of young entrepreneurs.
Ok, maybe I'll still be a waitress but I'll wear different clothes.
Track Name: In the Background Someone Plays a Prince Cassette
You look so coy when you tell me about your friends.
The ones who drink like middle aged Floridians.
You say their names the way a politician might
Describe a handjob from a man he met online.

The evening comes like a blade
Racine through a record sleeve.
But I can't call this a day.
Not until the subways clear and the women
From the Sears summer catalogue appear amid
the metal of my dreams.

You look so good
When you tell me about your friends.
The way they cook, the way they think about the land.
They way they build their cramped apartments into shrines.
I know them well, I've slept among them many times.

You write their names on the wall
Somewhere where the cops won't see.
I don't believe in gestalt, but
you're beginning to convince me.
Somewhere in the background
Someone plays a Prince cassette that their dad
Found sitting in the black tape deck of a burned out
Crown vic coupe in the thick brown soup of 1984.

The evening comes like a blade racing through a record sleeve.
But Let's not call this a day, not until the caffeinated rush wears off
And the sound of your roommates having rough sex stops
And the shrink wrapped coke on your counter thaws
And a sprawling calm comes
crawling down through the room.