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SocietyFringePodcast's podcast

Through this podcast SFP is creating an extended universe through the use of guitar based pop songs. The tale is both episodic and serial. As of the COVID lock down the SFPeeniverse consisted of 7 Broadway style musicals. This is ambitious stuff. The conceit is that an '84 Chevy El Camino acts as a TARDIS catalyst connecting the characters to unlimited story telling opportunities.
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Now displaying: Page 1
Feb 25, 2020

THE LOVERS PART TWO

DESPERATION WALTZ
Try us. If you got a reason I don't ant to hear it.
Buy us. You can't afford to just even get near it.
Slide show. Pictures of nothing and nothing plus hearsay.
Pride low. Come up for air and then watch it turn our way.
Closed up. In both physical and emotional ways.
Nose up. A false display of hope why it's still a display.
Comfort. Meted out just like a pill from a doctor.
Sore sport. It's you and it's me and it's us and it's them.
Waltzing to me, desperation.
Waltzing to me then away.
Creep show. Just like a sign on a motionless freeway.
Held low. Again and again while a sign flashes "no way."
Outside. And inside and outside and inside again.
False pride. Hell it's as good as the real thing and then some.
Waltzing to me, desperation.
Waltzing to me then away.
Waltzing to me desperation.
Waltzing to me.
Stop.
Come here. But then again just go turn back around.
Fun here. Or there or wherever it's good to be found.
Control. Buy it or sell it or let it just sit.
Hello. And goodbye at the same time the same time the same time.
Waltzing...
Dave Linantud - guitars and vocals
Brian Lutz - bass, engineering, mixing
C.J. Johnson - drums
Recorded at Possum Studios spring 2016

DISASTER TIME
Dawn comes from the outside she's got no insider's touch
Society's fringe, she's raring to binge, on drink and drugs and lust
She lives life by the moment, she falls in and out of love
She's randommer still, insane, if you will, no below or above
Angel White's kind of silly he's deserted in an urban maze
He sees stars in the sun, depressingly fun, imploding guns ablaze
He lives life for the dying he's got no insider's touch
Society's fringe, a bombastic cringe, existence is never clutch
It's just disaster time
The sky melts patiently
The hovering evil lurks for you and me
It's a catastrophic world
Where we don't amount to much
We're sacrificial lambs for such and such
The last time I saw Elvis that sumbitch grew a beard
He gave up the pills, he got into stills, it really ain't that weird
He's stalking Dawn and Angel he put 'em in a book
Society's fringe a bloody syringe as if love is all it took
I done seen all three dancing I seen it clear as day
Nightmarish hued, horror imbued, beautiful in its way
Obsessed with this fucking opera I'm walking through its streets
Society's fringe, gut-bucket hinge, write, learn, play, repeat
Dave Linantud - guitars and vocals
Brian Lutz - bass, engineering, and mixing
C.J. Johnson - drums
Produced at Possum Studios

IF I DIE TONIGHT
If I die tonight I would be alright
Because I don't want to live
If I had a chance with my decadence
Well then my life is all I could give
I would sacrifice for the other life
That somehow might not end
If I had to guess I would ask this mess
Would never come again
If I have to fall I implore you all
Not to follow what I done
If I had a choice with my lonely voice
I would pull the trigger of this gun
If I die tonight I would be alright
Because I don't want to live
If I had a chance with my decadence
Well then my life is all I could give
If I die tonight I'm gonna live
Live on and on and on
Dave Linantud: guitar and vocals
T. Chris Johnson: violin
Produced by Brian Lutz
Engineered by Greg Humphries

OLD MAN BLUES
Old man blues, understand?
Drunk as shit, I'm a man
I seen 'em rise and I seen 'em fall
Don't fuck with me, son
I'll whup your ass, all y'all
Say what's up yo baby what's up
Said I try to figure out yo baby what's up
I moan the blues I ain't ever died
I ain't never laughed I ain't never cried
Shook hands with the devil cut my deals with the Lord
I'm froze to iron of what you can't afford
Said what's up
I seen the rules so I done wrote my own
I deconstructed the gospel with a black cat bone
The thorn covered rail that's the path of the righteous
Got the voodoo hoedown just don't wait to invite us
You know vengeance ain't passion it's a loser's gold
Dawn's eyes shine a light make a slight man bold
Where the swamp licks the ocean that's where we meet our fate
So if you're running to Jesus your ass better not be late
Say what's up
Dave Linantud - guitars and vocals
Brian Lutz - bass
CJ Johnson - drums
Possum Studios

LOVE SONG
There's a feeling yes a feeling
I got for you call it true love
In the morning in the evening
Open on up call it true love
Ain't no sunshine ain't no dark clouds
When you're with me it's all back ground
Fading sunshine It's about time
We're together here forever
Life means nothing if I can't have you
'Cause I love you
Dave Linantud - vocals and guitar
Brian Lutz - bass
CJ Johnson - drums
Produced by Brian Lutz at Possum Studios
Mastered by Ian Burke at Invisible Studios

WATCHING IT ON TV
Rain all the time 'cause her lover's gone
Rage in the sunshine never to belong
Crack in the windshield of a wasted throng
Clear through the morning to be watching it on TV
She breaks the skin and the needle's free
No sleep tonight and it's almost three
Never again try to not agree
Clear through the morning to be watching it on TV
All night long
She buys a new pack of cigarettes
She sits around and tries to forget
She waits for something that's not regret
Clear through the morning to be watching it on TV
Rage in her eyes but she's nodding out
Slumped by the wall in her mind she shouts
"Why is it everything's wrong about"
Watching it on TV
But there ain't no TV screen
He's here and he's feeling mean
The city will hide the screams
Dave - guitars and vocals
Brian - bass, engineering, mixing
CJ Johnson - drums
Ian Burke - mastering

SHE'S AFRAID OF YOU
You spent all your time on
Who you climbed the walls for
Spent all of your money too
She feels like an outcast
This true love did not last
She is getting tired of you
Spend the days growing colder
Yeah
She's already gone
She's afraid of you
Ignore all of her bruises
Concentrate on bad things
Hit her when you're feeling bad
She wouldn't bear your children
Miscarried your first born son
First one that you ever had
Spend the days in icy silence
Yeah
She moves out
She's afraid of you
And the days go on
She came back one day and
You felt like a real man
You hit her just a bit too hard
You made up a gravestone
Laid her out on flagstone
Buried her in your back yard
Dave Linantud: Guitars, vocals
Ryan Bowen: Drums
Greg Humphries: bass
Produced by Brian Lutz
Mixed by Drew Mazurek
Engineered by Greg Humphries

DAWN'S EULOGY
You wanted something more than just somebody at the door
What you got was something less you're thinking "what in heaven for"
Ain't never got no flowers just take it one day at a time
Places lose their meaning and life becomes a rhyme
I said you take it as it comes and that's a rule of thumb
Sometimes you feel you ain't begun hell you're not the only one
Wake up your pillow's wet while it's lying on the floor
If kindness is a virtue you're thinking, "baby, what in heaven for":
Looking for your dad in all those guys who turned out bad
Broken expectations are all that you have had
A failure brings a heartache that a pill can't ever cure
Searching and feeling empty you're thinking "baby, what in heaven for
What in heaven for"
After all that time avoiding pessimism laughs out loud
The faces they look different ain't no solace in a crowd
Old friendships fly away like a bird does in the fall
Submerged in isolation you're feeling two foot small
I said you take it as it comes and that's a rule of thumb
Sometimes you feel you ain't begun hell you're not the only one
Wake up the pillow's wet while it's lying on the floor
If kindness is a virtue you're thinking "what in heaven for
What in heaven for"
On the day that Dawn was killed nobody even knew
'Cause there's a million deaths in the city minus one or two
The murder of a whore is as tragic as can be
She meant more than that to you
She meant more than that to me
What in heaven for
You can live your life in sorrow
But what in heaven for?
Dave - guitars and vocals
Brian - bass, engineering, mixing
CJ - drums
Ian - mastering

BABY BLUE
There he stood on the doorstep for a time
Wanna work for a nickel for a dime
Mommy who Daddy who he don't know
Better now, he ain't beat, where's he go?
He's gonna roam the street
Then he steal a piece of meat
This is no place for a kid
He's the crime that others did
He doesn't know what to do
No orphanages coming true
Streets that are splattered with his blood
Streets where we walk in the sun
There he sleeps by the trashcan for a night
Abandoned child, just a child, it ain't right
Mommy who, Daddy who, he don't care
Middle March, nose it runs feet are bar
Dave: vocals and guitar
Brian - bass, engineering,production
CJ - drums
Ian - mastering
Colleen - upstairs reading

TORN DRESS BLUES
There's a torn dress in the corner I don't know where it's from
I got bloody knuckles and I got a broken thumb
There's a shovel by the door I don't know why it's there
I got dirty fingernails and blood all in my hair
I thought it was er tat I buried but I seen her walking down the street
If it wasn't her that I buries I guess it must have been me
The Blues is half of the essential handbook for any serious musician in the United States of America. By "the blues" what folk scholars actually mean is "music created by Africans in America." The other half is the folk music the Europeans conjured when confronted by this vast land trying to hold onto their roots. Neither is more important than the other. There's no guilt for being more in one camp than the other. In a land where certain freedoms are guaranteed in writing if not practice the only music jettisoned by the masses is that of the high born and educated, which is a goddamn fucking dirty shame. It's encapsulated by the banjo, an African instrument beloved by the ones whose necks are sunburned. As Johnny Cash would say, "meditate on it." The indigenous music got fucking trampled.
Dave Linantud: Guitars, vocals
Ryan Bowen: Drums
Greg Humphries: bass
Produced by Brian Lutz
Mixed by Drew Mazurek
Engineered by Greg Humphries

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