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Miracle on Neon Clown Avenue

by Cannonball Statman

/
1.
Ace, it's been a long night, and it's time to go home. Where are you going? Where are you running to? Our friends are far behind, and they may never find us. You make it so hard to be your friend in these cold, cloudy days; why do you make it so hard to be your friend? Ace says, "it's been a long night, and I'm going home; and I don't know just where that is for me, but tonight's my last night on Earth. Maybe I'll end up living in the tunnels, maybe I'll end up living in the storm. Maybe I'll end up in a forgotten room, smothered by the arms of the state; or maybe I will make it to the moon, or the sun, and around the universe again."
2.
Ghosts are living in the gas stations of America. Went to the public park today; was the first time I'd been outside in years, and the sun shot through the December sky like a drone bomb with its democracy and guns, liberation and tyranny, and I said, “Mr. President, I refuse to take part in your dinosaur fossil death cult,” and the sun, he just stared down at me and said, “baby, I refuse to leave you be; I refuse to leave you be.”
3.
Love songs. You're singin' in the background, but I can't hear you breathin'; I wanna hear you screamin', 'cause I've got this crazy feelin' like I'm gonna explode. ...to our friends, while we're eatin'; wild hearts beatin'. We’ve got this crazy feelin' like we’re gonna explode. Nothin' could tear me away from you; you're the best, man. No, nothin' draws me in like you do; you're the top, man. My eyes have been tethered to you since I knew you were here; cut from a cosmic cloth, cut out of the blue. ...I'm eatin' bad clam chowder; couldn't you be louder? you’ve got this crazy feelin' like you’re gonna explode.
4.
Yeah, I see you; there, but you're not. So unreal, huh? But it isn't. So cold, so hot. I live at the foot, I do what I want. Last week was the best week of my life, I was a song. Yesterday, I was a racecar, orbiting the moon. Today, I'm territorial and strange. I think I will dispose of your remains. You're dead, not even breathin'; even the doctor couldn't fix your little problem. Call him on the telephone, and tell him, tonight, where you're sleepin'. There's always something to eat in my box. Everything I need to know's in my box. Been around the omniverse with my box. You’re gonna love it in my box. Divorciados divorciados divorciados divorciados. Last week was the best time of my life, it felt so wrong Yesterday, I was a pigeon flying around your room. Today, I'm feeling cynical and vain. I think I have to pour you down the drain. There's always fish to eat in my box. Everyone I've ever known's in my box. I've got plans for you in my box. Now you go down into my box.
5.
You could talk to my friends, but they won't tell you what day it is. Let them all into my house, I don't think they'll ever get out; they got locked inside my house. Yeah. I wanna paint with my violent brush, I don't wanna know what day it is. Paint it over all your doors, I don't think you'll ever get out; you got locked inside my house. Yeah. I wanna play guitar like Violent Paint, they don't even know what day it is. Paint paint paint paint Violent Paint; even Houdini couldn't get out; he's still locked inside my house. Yeah.
6.
Why don't we do this? Instead of getting our instruments involved, we'll have a party, melt some faces, and, hey! Go out, and turn the lights on in the park; I'll make dinner. I'll watch the wind sweep you away from this city, like a street sweeper rakes the leaves. You'll be with the lights in Prospect Park, you with the lights on; you with the lights and in the park, you with the lights on. You, with the lights in Prospect Park.
7.
In civilised obedience town, plutocrats hold every body down; brand new bands make the same old sounds. Nothing ever happens in this town, and sometimes I think I'm going insane; doc says something's wrong with my brain. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock, I'm in pain. Do I even need to explain?! No, nobody’s head stays on for long in this Neolithic hole. I've got a friend in New York town, spends his life in the underground; seems to know his way around, but these are hard times in New York town, and all his friends say he's insane, 'cause he's got a job, but it ain't payin', so he stays under the roof of the E train to protect his head from the freezing rain. No, nobody sleeps inside for long in that Neolithic hole. Sun sets over this creepy old town; dogs cry wild laments to the loons. I could not find a fucking room; there's no place I can sleep in this town, and sometimes I think I'm going insane, like there's something wrong with my brain. Neutered on a moving train; now I can’t stand still again, and nobody hangs around for long in this Neolithic hole.
8.
There's this place, the Neon Clown, perched at the top of Neon Clown Avenue, in the center of this old town; the center of our hometown. And it sounds funny, but I know, 'cause you're the one who can't say "no," you'll see a familiar face, and you won't come out of that place again. Tonight, checking into the Neon Clown, at the top of Neon Clown Avenue, to catch up with an old friend from the heart of our hometown. Millions of people stuck in that place, all staying alive just to save face, see the bar staff, walls, and weirdos, and grab one last drink for the road, but when you're the puppet master holding worlds on strings, and you see a familiar face in a most peculiar place, you are the puppet master, you hold worlds on strings; you've just seen a familiar face in the most surprising place. Hey there, old friend, I've come to retire you. There's this place, the Neon Clown, perched at the top of Neon Clown Avenue, in the center of an old town; the center of our hometown.
9.
Pit of Worms 05:25
It's time for ice cream with Phoebe, at Denny's in Virginia, the room at the end of rooms. tooth hurty in the morning, December, tour over, chronic back pain, armchair anthropology; let's take a dance behind your eyes. Liberate us from the madness of reason; this is no time for thin king thinking. Embellish your corpse, and someone will love you in the Pit of Worms. Your apartment is an ashtray and a bed you sleep in at night; your kitchen is an ashtray and a microwave you put the cat in. Let's take a dance behind your eyes; somebody's home behind your eyes. The Boy with the Blue Guitar is at war, MIA; your best friend's a spy for the FB Eye. The Boy with the Blue Guitar is at war, missing in action; your best friend's a spy for the FB Eye, compiling a dossier; let's take a dance behind your eyes. I thought you loved me in the American convention of love that doesn't exist; I imagined myself telling all my friends, in our churches of insubstantial substances what an incredible human you were, until you dropped me like a Silicon Valley success story, under the inevitable influence of reason. There’s no time; stop thinking, thin king. Be yourself, and someone will love you in the Pit of Worms. Your existence is an existential crisis from start to finish; why are you so terrified of me, Amsterdam? ...on the Girl with the Voice of an Angel. Sing yourself crazy, and someone will love you in the Pit of Worms; the Pit of Worms.

about

This one took over 4 years to make. It comes from a difficult place, and I hope it can be some medicine for you in these difficult times. Inspired by my struggles with suicidality, dreams of outer space, and the poem “Ace’s Last Night on Earth”: poemhunter.com/poem/ace-s-last-night-on-earth/

credits

released August 20, 2022

Katherine Koch took the photo on the album cover.
Gem engineered the recordings, sang on “I’m Gonna Explode”, and played the drums, percussion, and synthesizers, during a cold and windy late winter week at the Rattle, in London.
Jesse wrote the music and lyrics, played the basses and guitars, sang the songs, and designed the album cover.
Ben Turner and Gem mixed and produced the recordings.
Peter Fletcher mastered the album.
Aurel did the screams of joy at the beginning of “Winter in Brooklyn”.
Special thanks to Ben, Gem, Apolo, Melanie, James, Arlene, Dra. Adriana, Blake, Alexandra, Kenny, Dr. Bairavee, and my parents.

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Cannonball Statman Antarctica

Cannonball Statman is a musician from New York City. He has been described by LiveTrigger Magazine as "the king of modern anti-folk", and has often been noted for his unique sound and stage presence, described by German Shepherd Records as "pure genius". His soulful, articulate songs often tell stories in nonlinear, surreal ways, with intricate, poignant guitarwork. ... more

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