Hangovers

by Tallboys

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about

Recorded over the month of March in Hempstead, Pittman, and Bryan's car. Many thanks to Aaron Calvin, Jimmy Sia, Dunkin Donuts, Advil, and everyone else that was involved in making this.

credits

released April 16, 2013

Ryan Broderick- vox, ukelele, electric guitar on "Shrooms"
Bryan Menegus- vox, guitar
Ricky Enderle- bass, accordion
Marc Butcavage- drums
PJ Bannon- trumpet

Produced by Bryan Menegus
Additional production by Ryan Broderick, Jed Fort

Album art by Ana Davis

Rather Not Records 003

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about

Tallboys New York, New York

We're Ryan and Bryan and Marc and sometimes Ricky and sometimes other people and we play songs to people in places and hope they have a good time

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Track Name: Sad Kids Say Fuck Yeah Hey Hey
Don't look back on times when things were simpler, 'cause hindsight is a liar, and times are as hard as they ever were. Those problems were insurmountable ever though they're far away. But I have a habit of denying myself that I overcame.

A lot of my friends have drifted away and I just let them. And who's to say that they're not happier that way. Most of my friends are like "doubleswhiskeycokenoice" so I'll just drink until I forget them, 'cause maybe I never deserved their kindness and maybe they never felt like they belongs. They call me on the phone and say "I miss how things used to be" and I say "You're wrong!"

But we will overcome. We will overcome. We will overcome and feel like shit in the morning.

Once in a while I catch myself falling in love, but not often. And when that happens, oh god, I get so afraid. I'm amazing at denying the affection of strangers and I'm better when it's people I know. It's so much easier and safer being alone.

So I solemnly swear on the three things I care about: alcohol, cigarettes, and attention. That I'm trying, trying, trying to get better; I'm trying to understand. So scream it out loud, admit the worst parts of yourself, hold them close to your heart and then strangle them to death. We're only getting better if we kill ourselves a little each day.

But we will overcome. We will overcome. We will overcome and feel like shit in the morning.
Track Name: Sam Matthews Says You Can't Say the Word iPod in a Song
I keep the memory of you on an old click-wheel ipod. You're packed inside a box and your battery is dead, with all of the songs I'm too embarrassed to sing. You are the sad sound or shorelines. You are the cringing smile or growing up.

You are old faces no longer young. You are the mistakes and the towns that I'm from. You are concrete and salty air, Massachusetts sidewalks broken by roots. You are the boxes of books that I always pack whenever I move but never read.

Home is a pen running out of ink, and every letter leaves less there. Home is a text you forgot to read from people you miss but you never see. Home is a letter on birthdays sometimes, Facebook statuses skimmed at night. Home are friends, weathered like stones, gathered for drinks, and hiding with jokes.
Track Name: Manhattan & Driggs
We sit at a crowded bar and I joke with whiskey breath, "we're probably getting married aren't we?" You said you didn't hear me. Nevermind, it's not important. You smile and tussle my hair.

You were always the strong one, you were strong enough for the two of us.

We go outside, we share a smoke. We ruin our throats with everything we do. Things are good right now, but not forever. We share a cab and we go home.
Track Name: Wu-Tang Skit #2
We had sex on a bare second-hand mattress in a muggy apartment on the 4th of July, and as the country was celebrating its birthday we were falling out of love.

We had dinner at a Mexican restaurant and I was too polite to admit that I was broken, and when the check came you had to pay. We were falling out of love.

We were at Union Pool, having drinks with friends, we didn't speak all night. And of course, we didn't know it yet but we were falling out of love.

And all of the horrible girls date all the horrible boys. We're gonna hurt each other but we just haven't yet. We're gonna fight in front of bars and quietly cry in cabs. We'll learn new ways to feel sad, we just haven't yet.

You're just a horrible girl, I'm just a horrible boy, we're dating just like a sunburn, burnt and peeling off. We're gonna shut each other out and promise not to do it again. We're gonna hurt each other but we just haven't yet.
Track Name: Jude Law & a Semester in Bed
Every person that you meet has a story cluttered with marginalia, too boring to read. You don't really know yourself and you don't know anybody else. That's the truth of it.

So don't try to prove who you are--in another two years we'll have nothing to talk about. All we are are shared experiences, occasional jokes, regrettable kisses.

Spines are broken and bending, pages torn, and library stamps suggest we're past due. We're constantly re-written. Meanings are built on and twisted and turned around to something ugly but true.

And I can understand why you think that's horrifying. A puzzle you're not smart enough to solve. But I've got something to say and you won't like that it's true, but I'm nobody and you're nobody too.

Wake up on the couch. "How'd I get here?" I ask myself as another day passes without even. No new chapter written, no exciting twist. It's so much effort not to put myself back on the shelf.

So I don't try to prove who I am. In another two years I'll have nothing to bitch about. All this is is a forgettable shared experience with occasional jokes, like how the song ends here.
Track Name: Doing Magic Mushrooms at Cracker Barrel
I smelled your perfume on the subway last night and once again I was a scared, lonely freshman. That part of me I killed back in 2008 from pharmaceutically frying my own brain.

I was 18 and angry and in love. Not with you though, or, anything specific. And that was the last time that I remember snow. And I scribbled this fucked up on the back of a napkin.

We will all become the wind someday, we'll blow all over this godforsaken town. Some days I wake up and wish that I was dead. I'm just writing to let you know.

I was high on shrooms, glowing in your backseat, tagging along with you to New York City. You were riding shotgun and you were angry that I was too fucked up to appreciate Against Me!

The frozen feel of the window, wishing I was someone I'd like to know. And that was the last time that I remember snow. And I thought I had already lived too long.

We will all become the wind someday, we'll blow all over this godforsaken town. Some days I wake up and wish that I was dead. I'm just writing to let you know.

We're all trying to remember the lyrics to a song we never really know. Even though we know it'll never sound as good as it used to.
Track Name: Whoah-oh (Predator 2)
I said a lot of things that I shouldn't have waited so long to tell you, and now we're worse than strangers, probably never see your face again. But it's alright, people need to grow apart sometimes.

I've tried a lot of things so far in my life. Never finished any one of them and I guess that's who I am now. But that's alright, people are just parts of the things that they don't like.

I've heard it said that no one dies a virgin, because before we're done life fucks us all, usually while we're still alive. But that's alright, what would you be doing otherwise?
Track Name: Billy Florio's House Party Remix (to Ignition)
I've got not car, no job, and no girl. And worst of all is I can't grow a beard. 'Cause when you feel like a pile of shit, you can't help but feel the need to look like it.

And I wonder if I've done too many drugs, or was the damage always there? And for the rest of my life I'll be concerned with yours.

It will hurt less with time, and that of course will hurt too: the fact it's getting better, the fact that nothing's changed.

And I wonder if I've done too many drugs, or was the damage always there? And for the rest of my life I'll be concerned with yours.

Long Island has beaten us all, Long Island has beaten us all. I hope it sinks into the ocean and takes all of us miserable pricks with it.