at Nantasket Beach!

by Gondoliers

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"This grubby little tape is a cathedral of erotic misery created by deranged wonder-boys on tinker-toy assemblages of outdated or outright forbidden technology, a sonic battering of cruel and malicious intent by two men and a few hidden accomplices who are, essentially, the pall bearers of Rock n' roll. You cannot unhear this collection of dismally true tales but you will want to. A prickly tour guide through the shameful ruins of a desecrated capitalist temple, these songs are faded snapshots of a long-gone seaside fun-park from the 1980's that roiled with desperate ugliness just under the surface. While fat, cow-eyed families stumbled through the carnival on their imbecilic quest for just one happy moment or two, under the boardwalk it was madness, molestation, mutilation and murder, the sand caked with black blood and chunks of rotten, seagull-pecked flesh. The Gondoliers know because
The Gondoliers were there - never as participants, but always as agitators. That's what they're about, you see. The Gondoliers love you, but only when you are at your worst. They want to bring you to your lowest depths of despair, and when you weep and tear at your breasts in desperarion, they will laugh. They will laugh, and they will write new songs about your pain. And then they will sell it to you at their next gig. The Gondoliers are evil motherfuckers. And now you're stuck with this wholly ungodly symphony of unease. It will stain you, forever. Good luck sleeping tonight, or ever again."

- Sleazegrinder


released October 15, 2015

John Manson - Vocals
Dan Madri - Guitar, Synth
Isabel Riley - Bass, Vocals
Ernie Kim - Drums

Recorded and mixed by Doug Demay

Lyrics by John Manson
Music by Dan Madri and John Manson

Album Art by Jennifer O'Donnell



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Gondoliers Somerville, Massachusetts

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Track Name: Bermuda Triangle
You can change the name again but the danger remains the same.
And when we paint over the bolts heaven knows those bolts are still loosening.

To the islands we can say that we shall flee, to the congo to remain in infamy but in reality we are loving all this muck our feet are stuck in.
Why else would we stand in line so many blazing hot summers in a row?

Did we think it would end diferently this time?
We've been given enough rope to get to where we set out for.
He knows it and she knows it and you're the last one to see your portrait. All the hoarders been squatting the running boards in the hopes of scoring a free ride.

You entertained their fantasies.
You entertained them accurately.
It was once obtuse but now one leg is shortening.
It will become obtuse when one of the two of you is screaming.

These things are never quite equalateral, never quite evenly divisable. That's why they are dangerous and unstable.
That's why we find solace piped in hrough the cable.
So we bring our vacation to an end this very day.
All we ever really wnated was the ashtray anyway, to line up with our knicknacks and wait to be thrown away, to pass off on our youth when we reach our end of days.
And as we gaze into the haze we ar eamazed that it's so clear, the shape into which all of our ships have disappeared. So we'll lay our lazy heads beneath the waves and let mermaids tuck us three deep into wattery graves.
Track Name: Curses
The curses run down my walls into the carpet and when it's soaked we drag it out onto the street.
You keep smoking like a chimney on fire, hovering over my head while I try to read.
I sent men to fight for me before the wealthy houses so I could stay home sticking needles in my leg.

I held you closer than my closest enemy. Now I curse your name incessantly.

This is not a war when no one's getting rich. We put it on ice as if we're begging for it: Curses and curses and curses. All of our purses overflow with curses.

That fucking cat died and it won't stop dying. It lives in your hair and your eyes and it's thriving. Flightless birds keep on arriving, stalking me and walking just out of my reach, waiting for the end of time where we can die happy on that golden comode of mine. We'll die high on our curses. Every new verse is smothered in curses.
Track Name: Fascinations
Narrow your eyes a bit before you walk into it. It's a set up and you're a patsy.
You thought you were ready but they had your number, they tapped your weakness (with clever signage.)
Take what you want while you're soaking in it but don't be so god damned fascinated.

Don't be so fascinated. You're not so fascinating as you might think.

In the best of all possible worlds you're the luckiest of the luckiest of the girls.
You laid out your bait and waited and waited.
The biggest fish bit.
Now he's swimming away with it.
Trolling, trolling, trolling the deep for a peach among creeps.

You're a baby, just waiting, bottoms up on your blanket for the biggest hand to come and spank it.

Lay your tools out on the desktop.
Pull your boots on and we'll get messed up.
Decorate the walls with skulls.
We'll take one shot for each prick who calls.
You wear the ring and I'll eat the cake of the one who you most fascinate.
Track Name: The Whip
I'm hit and I'm down and they're counting but I'm only resting my vision. You got me good and my eyes are still adjusting to my newest situation. I've got blisters and scars on my knuckles from kneeling.
I see stars and two of every two of you when I sleep.

But when the swinging begins again I'm in and singing at the top of my lungs.
I've got secret weapons that'll cave you in so wear head gear, my love.
I can take the whip.

I can take the reigns and ride this little pony back home and all over you. My suits gonna change out for one much less phony really soon.
I've got blisters and scars on my knuckles from kneeling.
I see stars and two of every two of you when I sleep.

But when the swinging begins again I'm in and singing at the top of my lungs.
I've got secret weapons that'll cave you in so wear head gear, my love.
I can take the whip.

I hope you are ready for the drudgery.
I hope you are ready for the grudgery.
I want to thank you, you're a treasure when you're above me.
I never would have got out if it weren't for all your shoving.
I hope you like the feel of my new gloves.
I stitched them out of grey matter and love.
I can take the whip.

So if this one's it why are we not selling it?
If it's the shit howcome I'm not smelling it?
Had you given me three more minutes we could have turned this whip into a lovely hit.
Track Name: Wacky Shack
Mom called and said dad's stuck in bed again.
I guess that's the way things will end.
I gave you a rock and said this is where I intend to spend the sum of my days.
You told me there's still too much to see.
This roof is caving in so slowly.
We can hardly tell if it's safe for us to breath.

Oh, I know I'm not the greatest carpenter.
For I know I'll always have more lumber to burn.

Nobody wants to make these tough decisions so we leave it to hired hands.
They clean the pipes and standardize and keep walls from falling in. Maybe we just need medication adjusting.
Maybe we'll breath this way perpetually.
Maybe this roofline is as plumb as it's gonna be.

Oh, I know I'm not the greatest carpenter.
For I know I'll always have more documents to shred.

We built this thing according to scale, the particular scale of our perculiar lives.
We reserved one box of bluetip matches to strike anywhere at anytime.

Oh, I know I'm not the greatest carpenter.
For I know I'll always have more postcards to send.
I drew up the plans for this whacky shack and I should have known better than that.
I'm the architect and should have known that nobody wants to shack up all alone.