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Transformation in the 24 Hour Deli

by Cannonball Statman

/
1.
End of the year, girls throw shoes up in the air. End of fall, boys meet girls, look kinda like all the others; as clear as rain.
2.
We've got to make band practice, so we run faster than the train; no need for subway tunnels to roam, when we can almost feel home. Going back home again, walking over blocks with my friend; waiting at the light we stood, I can feel home in my neighborhood. We thought our thoughts would never go stale, but we ran right into a hail; it's only a few avenues until we will be home. Going back home again, writing over blocks with my friends; waiting at the light we stood, I can feel home in my neighborhood. Flesh made red by cold; felt hollow, but we ran bold. A runny nose, and tearing eyes; cold but forgotten home feeling cries.
3.
Band Forever 01:47
Let's play rock; let's never stop. Let's do the yay, even when we're miles away. Weird how a band has to stop someday. Weird how someday, you'll never get in touch with me; it's true. I'll still get in touch with you.
4.
5.
Other Crimes 02:17
And the men in blue can do what they want with you, but keep in mind, you're not a criminal; you're just guilty of being whatever they want you to be, but keep in mind, there are other crimes.
6.
2710 03:11
This is an invitation. It's night, and almost day. This is an invitation to all those who believe in the fine line between the final steps up the ladder, and the promises a man can never keep. Come into the city, if you accept that the life led in the small hours between night and day is to be led wide awake. It holds the most important and deep resemblances to memories; we can track these memories in the dark, as they skitter away under the light of the moon, and the streetlights who loom over us, with their endless desire for life outside the box.
7.
Let's be lonely together, before you go back in the box. Life was always your imaginary friend, and I was always the one you loved. And why you're going back, I don't know, but I hope it's nothing to do with me. I hope I haven't hurt you by being who I wanted to be. As I stand back, and watch you enter the point of no return, I whisper softly that no matter what happens, I'll keep all eyes on the box. I remember the time you lost your vision, and got it back the next day. I wonder what you're seeing now, or is it impossible to say? We had a good long time outside of that thing, but I guess you like being a square. I guess we're all really something like that, but it's nice to get some fresh air. As I wonder all these things, I will forget to say goodbye. I'll only whisper that no matter what happens, I'll keep all eyes on the box. I remember the days you first stopped wondering about heaven and hell. Maybe one of them will suck you in, or maybe not. But who cares, for now? I remember the time you started wondering about how long it takes to be respected in a world where no one can even accept their own mistakes. And why you're going back, I don't know, but I hope it's nothing to do with me. I only know that no matter what happens, I'll keep all eyes on the box.
8.
And I'm living on borrowed oxygen, so please come back. Don't they grant you one last wish before you die? And all those claustrophobic nightmares you had shortly preceding had more meaning that it seems. Someone with a gun said "get out of the car!" but your eyes were fixed on a harvest moon. And the harvest moon didn't know what to say, so you let yourself pass away, a story unfinished. And I'm living on borrowed oxygen, I need to breathe, and I'm listening to the nightmare station now. All these times I knew you were lonely inside, because to me, there was no way out, but through sticking together. And to you, it was silver screen dreams of a star-studded role, in a story unfinished. And I'm sleeping with a room tonight, and don't you cry! I will make it back home before I die. And I'm running out on oxygen, and don't let me go. I like to keep my tracks in the snow. And I'm going to Coney Island tonight, with someone who I want to be. This is who I want to be. This is where I want to be. And I guess we all question ourselves sometimes, but that's not the way it was last night. And I'm thinking about the aftermath, lying helpless in the backseat thinking about the stars. And I guess, for a moment, we made our last connection. Two bleeding insomniacs looking for detective work, looking for holes in the walls. Looking for holes in the walls.
9.
Sky 03:00
And I'm trying to keep my dream life separate from the days as they go by, and it's getting harder to stay awake, and I'm trying to keep your head in places you don't understand, and we're getting colder in the city. And all your friends are getting older, and getting involved in other things, you've just become this useless machine, you don't need them anyway. We've been announced as the select guest hosts to the music show, as we watch the stars go by from the city below. We've been announced as approaching the King with news from the music scene, he's been impeached for being irrelevant again. The world will watch on TV! The world will watch on TV, as the stars become scars, and the scars become cars, driving uselessly on the highway of blue dimensions for spare change. And the city becomes irrelevant. The sky becomes irrelevant. And you can never wake up when the city is falling on your face. And you can never wake up when the sky is falling on your face. And you can never wake up when the sky is falling on your face.
10.
She said you need a vacation, far from the way you'd been before. She said you need a vacation, somewhere close to where she comes from. She said you need a vacation, where you can spend time being hers. She said you need a vacation, but never that she'd be there with you. She never told the truth to you. She never said what she thought of you. She never said she wasn't perfect. She never said she was so selfish. And she's gone. And she's gone. And she's gone like everyone else. She said you need a vacation, and it has to be where she comes from. She said you need a vacation, and it has to be without her. She said you need a vacation, and you have to think about her every day. She said you need a vacation, and you have to call her every day. Going to the city in a week to bring back the dead. I know I can go back home, though I've fled. She said you need a vacation, and that you're what she really needs.
11.
Travel 05:58
From the dark of highways past midnight into the dawn, and returning again, the same as it always was. How many times, they didn't count. This was irrelevant. Mission after mission, they walked through the streets. Drove down the roads, into the sun, mission after mission. Uncertain of the future, and not really caring in the first place. Unimportant to some, necessary to all. And what bound them was a need, for going further and further outside what they knew. A need for travel. And when all these questions were asked, no one believed, when they were asked the final, most interesting question: "Do you believe in space travel?"
12.
And as we walked, approaching the place where all laws were erased, we found ourselves in the resting place. There were men there who told stories of life outside the box. We were advised to avoid them, for they could suffocate us with the truth. There were street performers everywhere, and they all played the music. It was as if they were all connected, but they weren't. They were all blind. Some people went to this place, and never left. These were the people who liked to stay where they were. Some people only stayed for a millisecond, or two, and we would see them disappearing, off the way, into the water. And as we walk, approaching this place where all laws are erased, we must keep in mind: there is no other way. No other way to live that life outside the box the men spoke of. All we have is a dream. Nothing more.
13.
I've been alone for too long. We take the same train to see each other; we live inside each other, but I don't talk to her, because she always talks back. We're destined to be together, but I don't really like her. She speaks French, and I guess we'll just have to run that way. I've been alone for too long. We live in different papers; we read different papers. We live in magazine stores, but I don't talk to her, because she always talks back, except when I don't talk back. Then, she starts to worry.
14.
Garden 03:40
I got up, it was late in the evening; I put on my shoes, and took a walk. I was thinking about a story that had yet to be written. I don't remember exactly how I met you, but there was something wrong with your hair; it was getting in the way of something, and you didn't like it. We walked into the park; it was raining. Someone I know is hoping I can follow suit. Was it a dream where I saw her? Someone I know is hoping I can follow suit, and I don't know how I know this, but, in the end of the day, it's always sort of raining; pieces and pieces, they fall from the sky. In the end of the day, it's always sort of raining; if you've seen it before, you know it doesn't lie. We talked for awhile; it was somewhat past midnight. I could hear people singing from afar. And we stopped talking; I heard a footstep. Of course I heard it; it was you, all along. We went into a house, with a door, and a letter from the city, telling me they didn't really care. I folded it up, and let you inside to my house, and you said "there's nothing really there." We talked for awhile, until it was morning; you said you were starting to like my house. We could've gone on, but you left, and I said "goodbye." I don't think I ever saw you again. I got up, it was late in the evening; I put on my shoes, and took a walk. I was thinking about a dream I had; it must've been reality. I like to keep my tracks in the snow. I like to keep my tracks in the snow, but they always shovel up snow; and the gardens are green again.
15.
Cherry 02:40
Cherry called. She left a message, and she left you with her name and someone else's number, which just happened to be mine. Cherry called. She left a message, she lives inside the movie scene. I want you to know, to me, she represents everything you cannot see. Cherry called. She left a message, it was the summer of 2009. Given the condition of my life, it must've been a sign. Cherry called. She left a message, she went crazy in her sleep. If anyone tried to comfort her, she was "just having bad dreams". Why does no one trust me to help them out when they need it the most, and why does nobody want to help me out of this mess? Cherry called. She left a message, she wanted to talk about the city, and the lies I've been told about who I'm supposed to be. Cherry called. She left a message, she's the only one I can trust. I just hope she is real, I just hope she is real. Cherry called. She left a message, she has twenty sets of keys. All for every different purpose she could ever need. Cherry called. She left a message, she wanted to talk about the government, and the backstabbers, and the liars who feel the need to talk down to me. Who feel they need to talk down to me, just so I don't get smart, and the ones who will praise me, with the same exact things in mind.
16.
I walk outside; you were never really there, and I think to myself, that there are buildings everywhere. I walk outside; you were half-conscious, so it's fine. And I talk to a friend on the phone, and it's all right. I walk outside; I miss late nights in the city. In your apartment, you held many things; but this was always there. I walk outside; all your secrets came back with me, and I think it's cool. It's cool that you're letting it all go. And it's cool, it's cool; just like your dreams, and my dreams, and everything is fixed, and the world is made up of guns and newspapers, and toy painted guns are illegal, and I walk outside to find nothing, but the corner and the back. I walk outside; I feel nauseous every day, and I think to myself, that it shouldn't be this way. I walk outside; I've never dealt with this before. Or maybe I have, and I thought I wanted more. I walk outside; I miss the dark and the light, because for now, it's all just figures facing towards the street. I walk outside; I want everything I can't have, and I talk about the way it all has to end. But never knowing this brutal ending, and everything is dead to me; we're all soldiers fighting cars on the little highway roads, and I walk outside to find nothing, but the corner and the back. And the signs all point to an intersection of two roads.
17.
Grow 03:12
At a certain point, you stopped dreaming; I guess you thought all your dreams had come true. Run away, as far from home as you can; don't forget me. It's time to grow your hair out against the wall that I put you inside. There are pieces; there they are. There are pieces inside your head; there are pieces. There you are, and there you are. At a certain point, you stopped sleeping; I guess you thought you could go on that way. It's time to grow your hair out against the wall that I put you inside. The first song is over; now the time has come for another one. At a certain point, this tells the story about that special someone who is falling through the system; and all the people who are there just to remind you, that all the photographs are there just to forget you.
18.
6 Train 02:59
It eats through the tunnels; it sees through the smoke, and wherever you are, you'll always be with it. It's my best friend; couldn't have asked for a better friend. The trains go everywhere, in this city. Can't believe the apocalypse; can't believe that it's happening so soon. Can't believe my acquaintance's daydream made the headlines, and the national news. Don't take this over; this is not a joke. Don't take this over. Don't take this over, like the trains that I ride in this city. Don't take me over, like the trains that I ride in this city.
19.
20.
A man with a badge stopped me in the deli today, and asked me for any identity that I had; I stopped, I was shocked, and I rustled through my coat to find my wallet, and I listened to the voice seeping in from his radio. The voice screamed, "A shot killed her! Five feet and two inches of energy, struck and stolen by a magnum forty-four! A shot did her in!" Got out of the deli, and wrapped myself in a blanket I found on the sidewalk; sat down on the sidewalk, and watched the blind man across the street. Makin' decisions! Makin' decisions now! When I get home, I'm gonna sell my soul at the crossroads. When I get home, I'll deactivate my Facebook account. When I get home, I'm gonna neuter my neighbor's dog, and then I'm gonna sleep for twenty-four hours, and pray when I wake in the fading shadow of a strange, disturbing night, I'll remain alone. A shot killed her. Five feet and two inches of energy, struck and stolen by a magnum forty-four. A shot did her in.
21.
Rachel 02:52
She first appeared one evening, in the heart of the room; screamed out her usual thing. She was a symbol of long, flowing black hair, blowing backwards out into the sky. And she wrote words in the bags under eyes, watching me play popular songs in the room of love. And I don't owe money to the police anymore, for handcuffing my best friend, Rachel. After high school, we lost contact, as these stories often go; she spoke at my high school graduation, with her gown and bracelet on. She fell asleep, in the city that never sleeps, watching me scream at bartenders in the room of love. And I don't owe money to the doctors anymore, for sedating my best friend, Rachel. On the streets of New York City, there's a place I never go; the place where Rachel (supposedly) drew her final breath. She jumped from a tenth story window, watching me sing her song on a TV screen. And I don't owe money to society anymore, for murdering my best friend, Rachel.
22.
Concussions 04:53
I forgot about life; I forgot that I could sleep, 'cause I wake up in the middle of the night. I know I do everything wrong. You're my dog, and you walk into rooms, and still think I'm alive; you think I'm so alive, but I'm never really alive. Concussions, concussions. I forgot about rain; when it falls, it is the king. I forgot about snow; whoa-oh-oh. I forgot about dreams; I forgot even what they mean. I forgot about space; yeah, I forgot about outer space. You're my dog, and you walk into rooms. You remind me that I'm alive, or at least, that I'm sort of alive; but I'm never really alive. Concussions, concussions. All these concussions, and I still remember your name; concussions, concussions. You're my dog, and you walk into rooms, and you still think I'm alive; but I'm never really alive. I'm never really alive. Concussions, concussions. All these concussions. Concussions, concussions. I forgot about you; I forgot even who you are, but I remember your face. I remember your face. You're my dog, and you walk into rooms, and you still think that I'm alive; but I'm never really alive. Well, Cannonball, I'm sort of alive. Concussions, concussions.

about

These are songs I wrote and recorded in my parents' apartment in Brooklyn from the ages of 8 to 18. The first few songs were from the days of my first band, The Band Of The Land, when I was 8, 9, and 10 years old, and were mostly about being in a band and being in middle school.

The next 16 tracks were from a period of very intense, prolific songwriting and recording when I was 15, 16, and 17 years old, that covered a wide range of often abstract, eclectic subject matter and musical realms, including some where the only instruments are charango and voice ("Vacation Story" and "Snow Globe Part 2"), some with heavy use of hand percussion and a variety of layered instruments ("Eyes on the Box", "Travel", "Resting Place"), and some with a primitively recorded "full band" arrangement ("Grow" and "6 Train").

After that, the album ends with a few songs from my late teens, when I became very involved with the NYC antifolk movement and adjacent scenes like folk-punk and fast folk, which coincided with a shift to more direct subject matter and sparser, uptempo arrangements, all of which had a lot to do with me more fully embracing myself and my anger, and breaking certain chains that had held me back earlier in my life. The final song is an ode to my childhood dog, Cannonball, who I took my name from (with permission, of course). The album cover is a photo I took in Chinatown, NYC in 2008.

credits

released August 8, 2015

Jesse made this, in New York. 2002-2012.

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Cannonball Statman New York, New York

Known for his soulful lyrics and guitar style described by Bob’s Aural Delights as “the edge of madness”, and a tenderness and playful melancholy that can be called “romantic punk”.

"Statman has made a name for himself in the music scene, sharing stages with Jeffrey Lewis, Days N' Daze, and Sunflower Bean, as well as touring across America, Europe, and Asia." (amNewYork)
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