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03:33
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05:17
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04:31

credits

released October 11, 2011

All songs written by Jonathan Dalin ASCAP ©2011

Produced, arranged and recorded by Jonathan Dalin

Co-produced and arranged by Matt Ray

Additional tracks recorded by Matt Ray at Studio D in Brooklyn, NY
Additional tracks recorded by Matt Ray and Robert Smith at
A Bloody Good Record in Long Island City, Queens, NY
Additional recording by Dan Siegler in New York, NY
Additional recording by Seth Kessel at Blackout Sound in Brooklyn, NY

Musicians:

Jonathan Dalin; piano, keyboards, drum programming and vocals
Matt Ray; piano, keyboards, guitar, and drum sequencing
Alex Hernandez; Bass Guitar
Marc Dalio; Drums
Al Street; Guitars

Mixing and Mastering by Robert Smith for Defy Recordings

Photography by Leslie VanStelten

Costume Design by Machine Dazzle

Graphic Design by Andrew Schoonmaker

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about

Jonathan Dalin New York, New York

Jonathan Dalin, a native of metropolitan Detroit, writes and produces original music in many genres. His songs feature quirky narratives, emotional sound environments, and lush melodies. From Laura Nyro to Kate Bush to SWV to Miike Snow.

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Track Name: Goodnight
Goodnight

Something’s bubbling deep inside.
Looking for a place to dwell
No container seemed to fit it,
so it hardened to a shell
No one could break through its surface,
nor free it from its rigid kind
With all the pills of science fighting,
there was no answer here to find.

So put your hand in mine
and let me take you home.
Maybe we’ll find it. Probably we won’t
At least we still survive my love
goodnight

There’s a place where no one knows.
No one asks and no one tells.
Mindless thought for worthless talk.
Such a place you may know well.
So carry rocks right down that hill.
Just to roll them up and push them down instead
You might come up with the dare
and do it just because it’s fair.

So put your hand in mine
and let me take you home.
Maybe we’ll find it. Probably we won’t
At least we still survive my love
goodnight

Carried ‘cross the dessert, carved into a stone
Written on a piece of paper, soggy in the road
I’ll put my life in your hands if you won’t spit in mine
For those who search for deeper meaning
always come back strict with pride.
Track Name: Grace
Grace

Grace is leaning over my left side,
pulls my collar,
whispers wrong or right
I’ve got siren eyes,
lighting hands,
tulips opening without scent
And I don’t know if I love anything in sight,
I wonder what she’s doing tonight
Grace is vacuuming,
filing here coupons,
saving the government,
ending drought,
Dressed in red, when I’m bad,
whips and chains when I get excited
Life is serious business, man!
She’s marking it with a permanent pen.
I wonder what she’s doing tonight,
I hold myself up to her spotlight
In uniform for her fight,
I know I know I know she’s gonna be on time.
Got this hammer, wrench, and knife.
Got this chance to organize.
I wonder what she’s doing tonight.
I hold myself up to her spotlight.
Track Name: Boring Boy
Boring Boy

Boring boy,
Never picking up the phone,
to call and say that you’re stuck at home alone.
Reading a business rag,
knee deep in vials and electrostatics,
Bet your voice is like a cold plate of salmon.
Do you think of me?
Do you need some chemistry?
Are those innuendos when you speak?
Do they harbor curiosity?
Boring, boring boy.
Boring boy,
look the places that you roam.
Four bare walls bathed in monitor screen glow.
Forwarding messages to some dick on Staten Isle
My Midwest soda heart cooling idly dorm room style.
Do you think of me?
d\Do you need some chemistry,
Are those innuendos when we speak? Do they harbor curiosity?
Boring boy
Boring boy,
oh the places that you’ll go.
The ribbons cut,
And all those speeches long.
Maybe our paths will cross,
our names written in the same publication.
Maybe at some spa if you’re ordered on vacation.
Please don’t think of me, I can’t stand the irony,
but if you want to change your key you’ll stop right now and wink at me.
Boring Boring boy.
Never picking up the phone.
Oh the places that you roam.
Boring boy.
Track Name: Intentions
Intentions

With the best of intentions he holds the remote.
Looking for something.
Listening to what anywho will say.
Plugs in his riffle, sequestering inside of a blog,
watching vigilant the same.
So what is the effect when the cause burns out ,
with just a click, raised on couch to watch and wait,
For the words of another touched up face
to bless my screen
and say that its ok.

When your heart is beating only for a poster,
Your mind is thinking only of the film.
Your heart and your mind
will not be mine.

He looks up at of the stars biographies,
their ages like prophets when he did this or that.
And while he’s following rightly to his own private sutra,
what he says will matter only once he’s paid.
So what makes him sing,
can you see vain within,
is he stealing all his licks.
The soup on the stove with the roots boiling down.
Bowie to Basie, black or white,
Burning up, browning out, overloading, counting down.

‘Cause your heart is beating only for a poster,
Your mind is thinking only of the film.
Your heart, your mind, your song, will not be mine.

I once loved a shadow
he clung to my side
living inside a pattern
watching reticent as others try to cross his lines.
Tired of dancing all by myself,
our loving wasn’t growing all too bright.
Then one day I turned on the pendant
to see what was there,
and he vanished into dishes and magazines.
I tried on the pinstriped suits of my lovers night.
But soon I got lost in the creases of his routines,
so many needs, so many deeds

‘Cause your heart is beating only for a poster,
Your mind is thinking only of the film.
Your heart, your mind, your song, and your union
Will never,
Will never be mine.
Track Name: Together
Together

Doesn’t it seem that it all comes down to ten minutes?
Had your shoes on sale but your couldn’t chose a blouse,
Doesn’t it seem that it all comes down to ten minutes?
Could’ve met your date but you couldn’t leave the house.
See that BMW dealership used to be a strike and spare.
That powerhouse gymnasium used to be Americana West
I remember the color of your sweaters,
I remember your least favorite food.
In summertime made to play Marco Polo,
diving into your pool.

Tearing at the pieces of my life
and I am glad that I gave some to you.
And in the last ten minutes of my time, I
’ll be glad you took a bit of it glad we shared a moment together.

Doesn’t it seem that it all comes down to ten minutes?
Guess it took one for the birth and six to be a child.
Doesn’t it seem that it all comes down to ten minutes?
Could you get out of my face?
Could you try to stick around?
Passing old friends homes makes me think of doorbell rings. CD’s lost in rooms.
Wondering where those friends are now surreptitiously changed, turning pink from blue.
I remember stormed trees that fell over.
I remember Mrs. MacCauliff coming down.
Skating to she works hard for the money.
Wondering what she is working so damn hard for.

Tearing at the pieces of my life
and I am glad that I gave some to you.
And in the last ten minutes of my time,
I’ll be glad you took a bit of it
Glad we shared a moment together.

We live we dine we drink enshrine
with whatever whomever we’ve got going