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WYEP Local 913 Live

by Alan Getto

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1.
Arkadia 04:56
Setting sail in gale force hail, hoping to find a home. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to roam. I need my little nymphs with me, to satisfy the imp in me, to satisfy the beast in me, to satisfy the man. So come with me to Arkadia. Don’t ya know that’s where the gods made ya? It’s the Amsterdam of the Garden of Eden. So come on now, honey—let’s make you a heathen. An effluvial wave of perfume comes my way, but I ain’t prepared to die. So believe in me and hopefully I’ll be off this boat in awhile. Through a mephitic maze of morose monkeys, and junkies, and funky things, I stumble past the brig and take one swig— one sweet swig—of whiskey. So come with me to Arkadia. Don’t ya know that’s where the gods made ya? It’s the Amsterdam of the Garden of Eden. So come on now, honey—let’s make you a heathen.
2.
Change 04:36
Change, change, change… It’s all the same. Change, change, change… It’s all the same. And then you die, but somehow survive, and then wake up to another day. And you go to work all goddamn day. You dirty a shirt every goddamn day. And then you die, but somehow survive, and then wake up to another day. But then comes a morning; a new day is dawning. You wake up to find things changed. You gotta do the dishes every goddamn day, and they defer the wishes every goddamn day. And then you die, but somehow survive, and then wake up to another day. Change, change, change… It’s all the same. Change, change, change… It’s all the same. And then we die, but somehow survive, and then wake up to another day.
3.
Autonomy is ought onto me. On the nautical sea I’m sailing. I’m trailing. A sliver of silver— it’s the gilder killer. The Indian giver is wailing, he’s flailing. The bulb of a tulip is worth a whore’s two lips, but the flower business is booming—it’s blooming. But the black skin is better— as long as it’s fettered; the queen’s headdress feather is fuming. It’s pluming. It’s the same old world (x3) that it’s always been.
4.
Ever Since 04:53
I went down to see the blood on the beaches of Normandy, the place I came to stay— or— the place I came to be…. To try and end this fire between friends. But the last sound that I heard on Earth was the sound of the bullet ripping through my shirt. I went into a fog, a bog of blood and brains, then a surreal state of mind I’ve been trying to find Ever since I kissed those lips. (x3) Time slowed down and then sped up. I felt like a toy ship in a cup, with my stern turned away from the opening of the cave, watching the women on the wall dance the waltz. This world is where I wanna be, but maybe Mars is better for me. Maybe the sirens of Titan have been fightin’ for a chance at me, pulling their serpentine hair with Gorgon stares Ever since I kissed those lips. (x3) And I say goodbye as I fade to black. I wave goodbye ‘cause I’m not comin' back. I’m not comin’ back. I’m not comin' back. I’m not comin back from this dream, ‘cause the world’s too damn pretty Ever since, (x5) Ever since I kissed those lips. (x3) Ever since I kissed Death’s lips.
5.
It’s the infinite possibilities of each moment that obsess me— it’s the myriad feasible philosophies to use to view something like destiny. But the rest of me ain’t a recipe. It’s an amorphous blob undulating and inflating like an ego balloon. Blow it up. Let it go. See how long it takes to blow. See where it wants to go. See how long it takes to pop at the top of the sky and at the bottom of infinity. I step into the water and walk downstream with the cool swirls flowing down around my knees. The past flows behind me; the future flows in front of me; the current is their synchronicity. But the spires of trees and the columns of flame tower up above my head and erase my name. I lose my self, and everything else; I cure my health, forget my wealth. I lose my longterm memory like a wisp of smoke into the bottom of infinity. I smile, close my eyes, and inhale deep as the warm sunlight falls upon my cheeks. After many years of waiting and thinking and debating I finally found felicity. But the silvery sky and my wearier exterior are playin’ tug of war and I don’t know which one’s superior. Which one will win? Which one will lose? When will my heart stop its crimson ooze? When will I die and when will I arrive at the bottom of infinity?
6.
Habanera 04:23
I’ve spent all day thinking about this. I’ll spend all night dreaming about your lips. I knew how I wanted to hold you and I did. Now I want to find ways God himself forbid. You said you got curves, but you’re more like a carving. For me to buy your meals is worth starving. I’d give you my hands to sustain the sculpture. Leave me to bleed, to feed the vultures. Perhaps those are the evil spirits you speak of— high-flying, jet black birds that feed on blood and love. My blood I can do without and my hands I would gladly give, ‘cause if love is all I’ll have, that’s enough to live. You said you got curves, but you’re more like a carving. For me to buy your meals is worth starving. I’d give you my hands to sustain the sculpture. Leave me to bleed, to feed the vultures.
7.
In Transit 03:32
I'm goin down the station. I gotta buy a ticket. I’ve earned a reputation in this town. They mistook me for a friend. They mistook me for a man. They mighta been right though when they, when they, called me a clown But I'm runnin' from my problems ‘cause they’re confined to one timezone and a little place that’s known as the past, where only memories last, where length, height, width and time and time defined space. But time only is a conglomeration a momentary nation of mind where dimensions and people meet and greet an unfolding, rolling, flowing, fleeting brief second of life of life alive On each side of each second is just one more and just one less. And here we are at zero, our only moving hero. And if there is no God then our only motivator is love.
8.
I’m goin' to marry you. We’re gonna have a whole mess of children too. We’re gonna have a house on the hill, in the North New England woods and the fields. Red barn, white fence, the long green prairie grass, and we’re gonna have enough time to make all these anxieties pass. And left over we’ll have love and death. With the thought of those two I’ll cherish every breath. And we won’t have to fix the world; we’ll create our own, with the edges of the world being the fences that surround our home.
9.
I’m painfully weak, but I am strong. You gotta be strong to be so weak. For to find the strength to keep movin’ on when you’re so weak, you gotta be strong. I said, my heart’s like a scarred old moon— it’s full of holes, covered in dust. But she was the heat beneath its crust. But all that’s gone and I am too. I said, my heart’s like a calloused old crab— it’s got claws, and it’s got legs. And all I’d do was crawl on the dregs, but she brought me up from the sea bed. I’m painfully weak, but I am strong. You gotta be strong to be so weak. For to find the strength to keep movin’ on when you’re so weak, you gotta be strong. I said, my heart’s like a hot air balloon— one with a hole right twixt the seams though. And the hole is where the heat escapes; and it deflates, and sinks like a stone in a dream. I’m painfully weak, but I am strong. You gotta be strong to be so weak. For to find the strength to keep movin’ on when you’re so weak, you gotta be strong.
10.
All of my dishes were dirty, but it makes no difference to me, ‘cause I put a little shot of soap in my whiskey, ‘cause, Mama, I’m goin’ clean. I don’t need no coffee. I don’t need no caffeine. I just need a little shot of soap in my whiskey, ‘cause, Mama, I’m goin’ clean. I don’t want no cocaine. I don’t want no morphine. I just want a shot of soap in my whiskey, ‘cause, Mama, I’m goin’ clean. My mind has been muddled. My wits, they ain’t too keen— probably ‘cause I’ve had about a gallon of soap— but, Mama, I’m goin’ clean. All of my dishes were dirty, but it makes no difference to me, ‘cause I put a little shot of soap in my whiskey, ‘cause, Mama, I’m goin’ clean. ‘cause, Mama, I’m goin’ clean. ‘cause, Mama, I’m goin’ clean.

about

The live recordings from my Local 913 Live for Pittsburgh's WYEP, held on March 28, 2019.

credits

released March 20, 2020

Violin: Nashwan Abdullah
Clarinet, flute, background vocals: Leslie Miller
Percussion: Eric George
Bass: Jesse Prentiss
Throat singing: Nick Sirio
Everything else: Alan Getto

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Alan Getto Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

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