Crazy Crazy for Feeling

by Audubon Park

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Written and Performed by Audubon Park

Recorded by Nick Petersen at Revival Music Recording Studio.
Our Back Stairs and parts of Lady Western and Tarantula, Dude recorded by David, Finn, and Matt in the AP Diaspora. Thanks to David Kovach for his incredible hospitality.

Mastered by Carl Saff at Saff Mastering.
Layout by Bronwyn Gruet at Lime and Iron Studio.
Cover photo of Sad-Eyed by Robert Biggers.

Audubon Park is RPBjr, FMC, MWK, DCN, and BMS.

Thank you for a decade of kindness: Nick Petersen, Ross Grady, Alicia Korenman, Jennifer Connerley, Annissa Clarke, Lauren Carter, Corrie Mimms, Carl Saff, Charlie Hearon, Dave and Kerry Cantwell, Dave Bjorkback, Bob Wall, Stingy, RIKK, Bronwyn Gruet, Dash Lewis, Finn's Mom, Judah Kalb, Potluck Records (Reid, John, Maria), Clint Newman, Jim Higdon, John Norris, Mikey T, Todd Nahm.

RIP to all the bands that broke up. You did your best.

NOTE: If you download this now and then come to our release show on the 18th (at the Pinhook in Durham), you get a free copy of the cassette tape version. Or you can buy the cassette at the show and get a download code with it.


released October 15, 2013


ASLEEP IN THE FIELDS: Regarding the wanton waste of youth. CLOSED DRAPES: A man, in his dotage, regards the passions of his past. OUR BACK STAIRS: The house makes an unexpected sound. RUIN YR SUMMER: What kind of music does your sister like? SUNSET CREDITS: If you do it right, this is what you hear when you die. THE NEW QUIET: We have to make our own fun out here.

THIS BEACH IS JUST OKAY: It feels good to stretch your legs sometimes. MOTHERING: There is a connection, but do you know what it is? LADY WESTERN: Why is your mother messaging me? HILLSBOROUGH NIGHTFALL: [null set][error]. TARANTULA, DUDE: Nostalgia for how nostalgia used to make you feel. GET TO KNOW YOUR GRAVE: Someday, you will realize how happy you were then.



Track Name: Asleep in the Fields
We forgot to pay the rent again,
our chiming eyes climb like vines
in the coded cracks of the crumbling cement.

We were unbearably free,
unburdened even by our dreams.
Listen to those idle things,
pitiful, asleep in the fields.

We've come to get carried away
on the waning breath of Summer days,
our bodies brimming with noise,
Cicadas unfazed by the droning heat.

We walked down Rosemary Street,
decades of fliers at our feet.
The years' sweet colors peel away
in the rain ruined splendor.
Track Name: Closed Drapes
In the door of a one bedroom apartment,
the man raises the half-exhausted cigarette,
the tip of which contains a bright carbuncle
that flashes as he breathes in,

and looks at the variegated pools of oil on the wet surface of the road
where it has just rained and his daughter hasn't called for years.

Pick up truck beds full of hay. Boys and girls lolling
as machines wind their neon way
around an endless loop of syrup slowness.
We are too young to be part of this.

We stand in line for a children's movie
and gawk, slack jawed. Maybe someone's mother
will buy us a ticket to something Rated R.
Track Name: Our Back Stairs
Once on a broken stone wall
the slanting summer
we worked to warm winter tongues.
The golden pasture humming with
water running green with the streams tears.

Reglaze the window for a lark--
a voice in the basement in the dark--
howl on the hardwood--
let's run down our back stairs.
Track Name: Ruin Yr Summer
Your sister's here, laughing at the river's mirror.
She glowers with the wisdom of a wizard
clawing the sunset, unburdened by fear.

And the spaceships you drew, your lap soaked with Mt. Dew.
The basement was crowded by the ghosts
of all those burning tubes.

The line outside the movies writhes with life.
The blossoming base brings me to grace
as I quietly wait for my ride.

There's a secret to tell
that the screaming cannot quell
that electric feeling flickering behind your eyes like tiny bells.

You ruined yr summer.
Track Name: The New Quiet
There was a family up the road; they burned up
in their house years ago. At dusk I see white deer
at the edge of the trees looking at me,
and it makes me want to scream.

Time to time my phone will ring. I answer,
but no one says anything to me.
I remember how those boys used to lurch about the trees
hollering about wanting to be free,
and it makes me want to scream.
Track Name: Mothering
When I was a little boy, I used to stand in the kitchen
and watch my mother cry.
The boys behind the theater, breathing paint
and wiping their bleeding eyes.

The world washed in Mello Yello--by a grave we hear a bellow
as we swing our fists in the dark.

Outside the Courthouse, a preacher preaches
as he leans on a metal cane.
A woman walking to her car sees a shadow
and says her father's name.
Track Name: Hillsborough Nightfall
Track Name: Tarantula, Dude
I count 16 bars that would have me
until the light of day. Every other one was Members Only,
but they still let me play. And in my time of rhyming
I was king, but all the queens they ran away. The finest ones
held me in metal sway. Beyond the leopard-print nostalgia,
a hero lets out a mighty bray. And sometimes a pony
gets depressed, but only if it's lost its chocolate way.

We will hold fast to all our younger rules.

I'm a myna bird on your roof, a Caesar without pride,
I climb the trees outside your room. There is decency to evil
that will not let you go. It crawls along like tarantula doom.
It stutters with a foreign accent. It keeps you in its swoon,
all the words penultimate and blue. You wrap your arms
around the Internet--a bleakly lit cocoon.

I am a lion's den of wonder; a needle and a spoon.
Track Name: Get to Know Your Grave
A girl-child in a field, down in the tall grass, playing with a foxes skull.
The way the broken glass catches the light.

Here's a feeling you can't fight:
You need to get to know your grave to night.

Someone wrote something rude
on the broken brick wall out behind the school.
The old woman sits in her bed. The boy dances in the light.

Here's a feeling you can't fight:
You need to get to know your grave tonight.