My living room was the only venue we had. We needed to play a show. We waited till my parents left, the weekend before graduation I said “call everyone, tell them we’ve been waitin”
The same faces staring back the same places haunting me for all my efforts and what they may lack I was only demanding my own autonomy
I was jealous of your Telecaster but I knew I couldn’t play guitar as well as you could. I found old recordings, ‘member you once told me: “I can tell you wrote that song ‘bout her” ?
Gathered in communion still in standard tuning, sound echoed off the walls of our living rooms and basements No means of escape, just teenage concert halls
and we thought of a narrative, a narrative to carry our hearts and our heels from rust on steel and I kissed as a roman candle blew out into the field so naive we believed our love was real.
Like some little kid, just out of frame waving their arms, screaming their name. An integral part that keeps you awake, it’s still in your heart it can’t go away.
Were we sitting around waiting for stones to bleed? fumbling in the dark for which we could not name but need? She said I can feel it, there’s something hanging over me swimming in shallow waters searching for the deep. And we fell in love with the myth of our age; threw our rural anxieties up against a blank page. We were free like all the others but we still called ourselves caged, cause we were just begging for something to liberate.
released September 8, 2018
Written by Billy Moon
Performed by Billy Moon, Marlon Nicolle and Patrick Hayes
Recorded in Boston at Converse Rubber Tracks, where Dave Minehan was the engineer.
Additional Recording was done at Black Lodge studios in Toronto which was done by Asher Gould-Murtagh.
Mixed by Ian McGettigan
Mastered by Phil Bova at Bova Sound Recording.
2017 Yamma Namma Productions.