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U​.​S. History

by Jeremy Good Job

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maxwig This is one of a small few works that has reached me in this (historical) time of cloistering and alienation. Jeremy brings the listener into a special, private place with stories that are specific enough to have dimension, but resonate w/ deep, universal truths. It's compositionally intricate, unexpected, and familiar all at once. A true artistic accomplishment. Favorite track: Hey Bluebird.
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1.
Couldn't say what'd be insane So instead I said your name But I gave myself away Your hands around my sides Falling into your neckline You can be George Washington In my boat, in the cold You can cross my Delaware That means you know I'm kinda slow, who cares? You stole words out of my mouth And your eyes just like a cow's When the L-bomb did explode Eyelashes all aquiver Heartbeats inside your liver You can be George Washington In my boat, in the cold You can cross my Delaware My safety net deep in your breast, my dear
2.
Looking in the mirror at night You are fast in bed Coffee with my apple pie Went straight to my head If I was in an alley And ran into myself I'd need you there to help repair The damage to my health Fingertips petting me Forgiveness, forgetting me Look away Loving you is priceless But there's still a cost Can't obey what people say "Love them for their flaws" Stay with you forever Answer when I'm called Listening to lists of things Things that ain't your fault Always I'm adoring you Time to time, ignoring you Look away
3.
Silverware 02:32
Buy a house, fill it up Need the storage, drive a truck Meet the neighbor, meet his wife Meet the family--they are very kind We are happy, lovingly Make it work: honesty On the weekends in the yard Rest of my life Tell your mama, tell your pa I am happy, have a job Need to thank them for all of their silverware Met your family years ago Trusted man, trusted soul Me and your dad talking sports Me and your mom, tennis courts Up in bed I lay awake Down below me, wedding cake in the freezer out of sight Rest of my life Tell your mama, tell your pa In a bad mood, took a walk On my mind out in the air: Silveware Lots of children, all the love Second thoughts from God above I'm a husband in my head I'm a neighbor, I'm a friend I'm a father left for dead I'm a failure in my head Rest of my life Tell your mama, tell your pa I am happy now Smell of polish in the air Silveware
4.
He gets a job, a government job A witness in the same skin He gets a desk, a monthly paycheck A cliche at best, well who could blame him? We need citizens in America He calls his wife, tells her he's home He's all alone out there in the city Flips through his history book Sissy man or mystery crook How can you blame him? We need history in America Studies the gone Can't even taunt the ghost of a man who wants a part in this People kill kids, nobody kills the archivist Boss calls his desk, says she's depressed Nameless in the same queue "I get home, ignore my friends, mind my shelves, side-eye the fence I'm sorry to vent" Well, who could blame you We need breathing room in America Packs a box of correspondence Handed a gilded bedpan Metadata, tagging keywords Helping to find their Rembrandts Tasked with the grave Kill or be killed, save what cannot be saved It is endless People kill kids, nobody kills the archivist
5.
I didn't picture that guy destroying my car with his truck on my way home I didn't picture dodging my mom's text when she offered two grand through a cell phone I didn't picture living a life in debt cause I lived a year on a credit card I didn't picture Trapped inside that job where he paid me less than he said he was You will never make a dime, even finding gold I didn't picture things getting so dark and sobering up at 22 I didn't picture spending time without healthcare, thing I learned is plenty do I didn't picture losing all that art when my laptop went and it bit the dust I didn't picture hating extroverts cause one extrovert colonized my trust You will never make a dime, even finding gold I didn't picture alienating you when I came home from work and I felt so sick I didn't picture not being able to follow through and have a kid by 26 I didn't picture going nowhere fast, watching my peers from the bottom floor I didn't picture hiding from the world in my 20s Oh yeah, come and get me You will never make a dime, even finding gold
6.
Civil War 00:50
7.
Food 02:31
My heart is like a basement: quiet eyes, entertainment Pillow talk, annoy you Check the time to disappoint you Tell me what to do, I'll run out and pick up food Tell me all your problems Call you dumb, incompetent Act against your interest in your cart, in your wishlist You don't want the truth You are what you are in food And though our history's halved in two Happiness is having this exactly as what's having it is too $11/hour Walk-in fridge, hop in shower Work is sentimental Work is hard Gentle, gentle Happiness is you, happiness is handling food
8.
Pity us with the big white house and the casket values, grandpa's tapshoes He's an old man dead in the ground But the boy kissed you yesterday afternoon Giddy up with your old conflicts, with your politics What is your next move? Haven't seen since World War II Wrap him up in the flags of the south Give him food for his trip, give him food for his mouth Tell your folks that the boy's got you swinging from the beams Dinner table hate, dinner table dreams Giddy up with your busted shins, with your traditions What is your next move? Haven't seen since World War II
9.
When I'm 64 02:54
When I'm 64, I'll love my job When I'm 64, I'll comb my hair every morning When I'm 64, I'll keep in touch with everyone And I'll have forgotten you I'll be over you When I'm 64, I'll still feel young When I'm 64, my parents will still be alive When I'm 64, my skin will be as clear as when I left And I'll have forgotten you I'll be over you When I'm 64, won't have regrets When I'm 64, won't think of you when I undress When I'm 64, won't think about your hands against my chest, your back against my car that night outside your house I'll have forgotten you I'll be over you You'll be long gone
10.
Break of dawn so I call your number Lots of 6s, I remember Said I'm done with the silver spoons Still in bed in the afternoon So much freedom in loneliness I'm reading Camus, yeah Myth of Sisyphus Ain't got no grudge, ain't got no torch I'm leaving shit on your mom's front porch I don't have time for the stress I guess I'm doing new things and I'm very depressed What was that thing? With your job? It's going great, you work a lot My brother's calling cause he needs my keys I call my mom cause I need money I have my books, I have my pride I sit at home and I look outside I think I'm done with rotten moods Laziness, fatty foods Fill up the fridge with Diet Coke, go for a jog, have a smoke I go online and change my pic I'm a new man--hey, that was quick Update my status with something cool Look up my girlfriend from middle school I'll meet some girl at my cafe The coffee's bad, music's okay Or maybe someone driving Lyft Say I'm single, leave a tip So much to do, so many opportunities When I get paid I'll go get groceries Might be in debt and never shave Might be depressed and self-important But it'll say over my grave that I was never boring And I don't want you back And I don't want you back And I don't want you back And I don't want you back
11.
Hey Bluebird 04:34
Hey Redwood, seems like it's been forever Hey Redwood, be strong Time to end your song Seems like it's time to say it, time to say so long Hey White Horse, I can hardly hear you Hey White Horse, come back Time to hit the sack Where have you run to, White Horse? Off into the black Hey Bluebird, the leaves are falling slowly Hey Bluebird, it's time, time to make your climb The leaves are falling, Bluebird Time to say goodbye

about

I started working on this album in 2015 or 2016. It seemed like a fun idea to structure an album about relationships around vague allusions to U.S. history. I was thinking about mid-2000s indie stuff like Sufjan or Of Montreal where there would be an overarching concept for an album where the concept somehow remained fun throughout and didn't just smother the music. It also seemed like the world had completely moved away from "indie music" as I'd known it so I wondered if I could cash in on some nostalgia other people might be having.

Speaking of nostalgia, something you may or may not be familiar with is the phenomenon of official songs for each branch of the U.S. military. Because my dad is a veteran, military historian, and geek, I went to a lot of events as a kid where I would hear these songs played: any kind of Memorial Day concert, the regional symphony's salute to service, or bagpipe event (both my parents were in bagpipe bands). The rule is that when the band plays the official song of the branch you served with, you stand up. So the band plays all these songs in a medley, and you watch as different people throughout the audience sheepishly stand and then you watch as everyone in the audience applauds them. I grew up looking up at my dad from whatever folding chair I was in as this patriotic music played. I grew up marching in July 4th parades in my Cub Scout uniform. I grew up with one of two veteran uncles or three veteran grandparents yelling at me to pick my flag up off the ground. And now I'm 29 and reflecting on some of my happiest childhood memories being enmeshed with nationalistic rituals that often simplify, smooth over, and erase the country's failures, historically and presently.

I wish I wasn't someone who has affection for this alternative, simplistic history that explains a simplistic world, but I am. Beyond that, I'm drawn to characters coming up against their own simplistic narratives, of which there are a few in these songs. Thanks for reading all this--it might make for a better listen. I hope you have fun.

credits

released July 21, 2021

Jeremy: most instruments
Max Wiggins: drums on Tracks 2, 7, 8
David Diongue: any and all saxophone
Doug Bleek: guitar solo on Track 2; bass on Track 4

Mastered by Doug Bleek

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Jeremy Good Job Queens, New York

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