I would give songs numbers instead of names if I could. I can? Ok. Here I go, but not really. (2023)

by B. Hamilton

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1.	Marion Out West 05:20 video	lyrics	buy track
There’s nothing dumber than a grown man dressed as a cowboy Testing out Ferraris off of PCH Hey Marion go out west On parental premonition With your pock marked face Hey Marion change your name And pump your chest over John Ford’s grave And now the governors on the horn again He wants to borrow my clothes and watch how I walk Alright, watch me walk Yeah, “High Ho Silver” Sundown comes again I’m avoiding my wife and watching planes take off again There’s nothing sadder than a last call At airport bar with your name slapped on it Checking new arrivals Taking Polaroids with Mongolian tourists You know Stalin tried to take me out? But cigarettes were quicker than the KGB You know I played Ghengis Kahn? Man that’s fucking crazy you played Ghengis Kahn And now the presidents on the tube He’s selling fried chicken but eating caviar The credits roll again Im just another fake cowboy with a made up name Just another fake cowboy with a made up name
2.	A Mennonite Shrine Behind the Ice Cream Place (Patricia) 05:40	lyrics	buy track
Patricia, I’m going to marry you some day I’m not the most attractive But I’ll find another way When we wake maybe I’ll be the Head of State Or we’ll just ignore the trombones And return from where we came Patricia, the god damn hippies want me dead But your sun kissed smile in eastern skies Purifies my head Patricia, we’ve got to get away The blood they spilt in Dallas Is trickling our way Patricia, I dragged you in this mess With the lives of other’s children Weighing on your chest And I know you’d rather be on stage back home Upstaging Mary Astor In spotlights of your own Summer in stride on a beach side drive You got your hair setting strobes in the sunlight bright And that half pursed smile that drives me wild hiding all your secrets Everyday feels like the first we met with your Mennonite blush from an office desk you said I never stood a chance at true romance and you preferred an actor So I dropped the lawyer act for a cowboy hat and played a fifth string Curly in the middle act tripping over spurs and misplaced words all to your amusement Darling don’t cry as we say goodbye I got my eye on you from another life Hey Patricia, you know you’ll never walk alone
3.	Six Brown Eyes in Bakersfield 05:37	lyrics	buy track
Who knew that Anaheim had a country bar? Who knew that Disneyland had a jail? Who knew a two night trip Selling Chinese baseball mitts Would end up in unpaid bail? Not I Not me It seems that Jesus Christ is out to get me You know Who did? Six brown eyes In Bakersfield All out of tears and looking to move on It started with my daddy fighting every boss he had Across the western 48 Kicked out of Garvin County for stealing Chevrolets At least that’s what my mother said Don’t call your father daddy That’s just gross I’m just saying that it’s gross And don’t blame him For the dumb shit that you do Like hurting six brown eyes in Bakersfield All out of tears and looking to move on Who knew that Mickey Mouse had hand cuffs? Who knew that Donald Duck looked good in stripes? Who knew that spending life like a 2-bit country tune Would lose you your kids and wife? You know? Who did? Everyone who has ever and will ever live From Socrates, to Gary Payton’s son And six brown eyes in Bakersfield All out of tears and finally moving on Don’t call your father daddy that’s just gross
4.	That French Guy on the Jazz 04:08	lyrics	buy track
Osiris bent his beak just as a goof And I spent three months in a hospital room To sew my head back on my neck I am a new man I came home to rotten bouquets It seems everyone was initially concerned And that business is the one thing that never goes away That French guy on the Jazz is touching microphones and my friend Wendy can’t stop texting me the news If California burns to ashes I’ll stick around and see what happens I've got no where else to be Cowboy accents bother me I’ll take my chances and slip through the arms of god

about

Raj is in the process of mixing this pretty brooding record that digs into hacking through grief and realizing it will always be with you. Like a phantom twin. Very cool. Living in those songs for years had been weighing on me, and I wanted to get away from them.

I grew up in Orange County. Yorba Linda for those with brackets. A constant topic for any creative whatevers who grew up there is living in a conservative blip outside of Los Angeles, or “the Orange Curtain” as very clever people have called it. Sunshine and beaches and god and country. Got it.

I went down to see some family last fall. Instead of feeling all the “Orange Curtain” stuff, everything seemed fun.

They elected a conspiracy theorist UFC fighter to the City Council in Huntington Beach. Love it.

Richard Nixon’s corpse is 500 steps from a pie-centered restaurant where apple pie is nearly considered a condiment in comparison to that East Coast new money playboy, Boston Cream. Perfect.

Some middle manager in Irvine has a “don’t tread on me” bumper sticker on his Tesla. Who is treading on him? The regional manager? What is going on?

Does that guy have calf implants?

Do pilots flying out of John Wayne Airport really have to ramp up up their engines and cut them after take off because John Wayne himself didn’t want to hear them flying over his house in Newport Beach? They then named the airport after John Wayne? What?

Last month I asked Raj to record a bunch of stuff on the drums. I did the other stuff and now there is a recording on the internet.

Here is a stupid fever dream approximation of some other holy trinity of some other holy place. Thanks for listening.

credits

released April 19, 2023

Written and Recorded in March 2023 in Jack London's Childhood Shack. Next to all the chained down dog bowls and spoons.

Raj - Hitty Circles
Ryan - Stuff

Thanks to Lindsay. Love you and I’ll be home at 7̶:̶3̶0̶, 8̶:̶1̶5̶, I’ll text you when I’m leaving.

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B. Hamilton Oakland, California

Ryan and Raj. Oakland, California.

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