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Tenement

by Jon, the Archivist

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1.
I parked my bike on 35th and East St On New Year’s Eve this time last year I shoved a package store receipt into my pocket December chill from ear to ear I slammed the door shut and shook the snow off of my boots I check my mailbox for your note And all the while the lights are flickering on and off The filament had finally broke Is this a nightmare? I don’t like dreaming But the worst parts of this year just keep repeating At Tommy’s party that night I cried into my drink The tears and champagne formed a moat I sank my vessel deep within your champagne memory But couldn’t fix my champagne boat The tiny TV set grew louder than a bomb As the ball fell towards the earth Amidst the cheers and clinking glasses in the night I tore myself up searching for my missing worth Is this a nightmare? I don’t like dreaming But the worst parts of this year just keep repeating Is this a nightmare? I don’t like dreaming And as I lay down in my apartment The blood vessel in my head just won’t stop beating And the worst parts of this year just keep repeating
2.
I hold onto the precipice Of the building’s ledge I carefully embrace Clutch the wires within my fragile grip And prepare to slip them all steadily into place The highways howl below me And the birds keep soaring right next to my head Behind each window a television screen As the city sleeps comfortably in their beds And I sing Hold onto your satellites License all your prototypes Keep the voices echoing through telephones Maybe we can convince ourselves we won’t have to die alone I never wanted to be dangerous Before the wires I was as timid as can be And I guess that nothing’s really changed But now I feel the wind’s become a part of me I could have joined the army I could have gone to school or been a movie star But now I just reconnect the wires And feed the miscommunication that we are And I sing Hold onto your satellites License all your prototypes Keep the voices echoing through telephones Maybe we can convince ourselves we won’t have to die alone Can you feel the wires?
3.
Pigeons 03:52
Sit up on the roof with me and take off all your ills We can feed the pigeons resting on the window sills I’ll throw them salted flower seeds and bits of orange peels And they will peck my fingers and they’ll teach me how to feel again We’ll fly away with wings me made from neon signs and steel We’ll leave this city far behind our vapour trails and wheels And if you start to cry I’ll use my wings to wipe your tears And we’ll stay up on this rooftop hiding from the world for years I sit with my legs crossed and feed the birds ‘til you come home But that day never seems to come, I’m still up here alone I cannot talk about this with the other kids at school Sometimes the world below the clouds can be so very cruel So sit up on the roof with me and feel the breezy night We can build our wings from carousels and hope and strings of light And maybe on that day we will have finally found a friend And we can live forever just as long as we pretend
4.
V.H.S. 03:26
I close up the video store after another night of zero return I count up the register, it’s the same as it was 8 hours ago The headlights illuminate the fading posters lining all of the walls And for a split second I’m startled by Fred Krueger’s face or Steven Segal Even the tenants who live in the building above me don’t stop by at all To grab an old v.h.s. copy of Five Deadly Venoms or to play some pinball And I can’t keep lying to myself that anyone cares about this place at all I’ll just light up a twelfth cigarette and I’ll kick up my feet and I’ll stare at the wall all night I shuffle some old trading cards behind dusty cent comics and energy drinks I count all the shadows that pass from the late night club crowds and the ice skating rink I pop in a tape of some stand-up on the TV set that I keep on my desk I remember we watched it together and laughed ‘til it hurt in the heart of our chests The endless selection of titles is starting to taunt my lonely head state And I bang my head on the table in a futile attempt to keep myself awake And I can’t keep lying to myself that anyone cares about this place at all I’ll just light up a twelfth cigarette and I’ll kick up my feet and I’ll stare at the wall all night
5.
The day our mother passed away The kettle on the stove wouldn’t stop boiling and the steam floated over East St. through the snow My brother pulled a blanket on her face He didn’t want her to have to see the unfixed lightbulbs hanging forgotten in the ceiling that wouldn’t glow The day our mother passed away I tried to call my father but as expected his phone number had changed again, so what? He never cared about us anyway, he left us here alone in this apartment wading through dead bugs and the memories of what he’d done. The day our mother passed away I ran into the snowy street in front of the tenement and screamed into the cold December night I banged on the brick wall with my fists and as my knuckled bled in red and plaster I buckled over and slumped into the snow and I regret Where we always too hard on ourselves? Did I say enough of the good things in the bad times? Was the problem really him or was it me? When she faded out what flashed before her eyes? Was it the fighting or the picture frame we broke? Was it the hunger or the kettle on the stove? Was it my brother standing dead-eyed in the snow? Did my bitterness ruin the time we had left to know? The day our mother passed away I built my brother a new workbench so the droning sound of the hammer’s fall would help me to forget Each night I stare out at the street and wonder if I’d given this a chance how would I have spent all the time I wasted differently
6.
Fire Escape 02:29
Sitting on the fire escape Watch the world float away As the winter falls in waves The sky becomes a shade of grey Sitting on the fire escape Listen to the hum of cables Carrying the words we say To the ears of everyone we care for Sitting on the fire escape Holding hands until we break We do not have a word to say To each other today
7.
The first snow of the year and East St. is deserted I put on my winter clothes and ride my bike to Andy’s We build snowmen on the sidewalk, we give them each our names We teach them to fight dragons, we teach them all our games We ride out to the harbor, throw pebbles on the ice They skid across the water in shades of blue and white The streetlamps are our castles, the snowbanks are our beds Until our parents come to call us we’ll sleep in the snow instead
8.
I left the washer on again for the second time this week And all my clothes have come out shrunk and the shirts have all got streaks But I never learned to iron, that was always more your thing Should have known when I retired I’d regret you leaving me I sit outside on the front step and boy it’s something else to see How East St.’s always changing, unless the changing one is me But I just zip up my old jacket and I sip my cup of tea And in this soft retired quiet I regret you leaving me When I’m inside I dust my medals and my old college schoolbooks I try to read a bit of Derrida but my brain is all but cooked So I just yawn and look at pictures of the life we used to lead And in this soft reflective silence I regret you leaving me And as I roll back into bed I think of the person I used to be And in this sober bedtime quiet I understand why you left me
9.
Tenement 03:19
(instrumental)
10.
Woke up hungover as the sun shot through my window On New Year’s Day this time last year I knocked my glasses off the dresser in confusion The shattered lens confirmed my fears Picked up my phone and placed my head to the receiver To hear your voicemail cold and shrill I stumbled to the mirror, steadied myself at the sink My reflection was primered for the kill This is a nightmare I can’t stop dreaming But the tears I left in the alleyway And the trips we took with the money we saved And the time we spent are like lines upon my face Oh darling, I’m a disgrace I ran into the daylight outside of the apartment I shaved my hands into the snow I felt the cold, cold sun and watched the kids riding their bikes As a nearby radio began to drone And then burst forth in song like the birth of a messiah The colors of the world they swayed And for the first time I remember in my life I got down on my knees and prayed This is a nightmare I can’t stop dreaming But the tears I left in the alleyway And the trips we took with the money we saved And the time we spent are like lines upon my face Oh darling, I’m a disgrace This is a nightmare I can’t stop dreaming But the shimmering sun streaming on my face And the sounds of life swimming in my veins And the snow melts down and the roots grow in its place Oh, the worst parts of this year, they will all melt down with the snow

about

"Tenement" tells the stories of several people who live in the same apartment building on a street called East St. in a very cold and wintery city. It is presented as a series of vignettes told from each character's point of view. Some characters get multiple songs to tell their story, some don't. Some of the characters run video stores, some are telephone pole workers, some are kids just trying to enjoy childhood, some are in love, some have fallen out of love, some of them don't know what they want. I think they are a lot like each of us.

I have a few people to thank for making this album exist physically, and they would be Jon Elfers, who recorded, mixed and mastered the record and did an incredible job, and my wonderful friends at Honest Face Records who were so helpful and enthusiastic about releasing this record on CD. Other specific thank you’s go out Gregory McKillop, Pat Malone, Greg Strong, Madison Safer, Jack Cavanaugh, Calum Bonazoli, Melissa Miller, Matthew Barrieau, Matt Griffin, Max Markes, Dave Carter, Sam Peluso, Aidan Bellinger, Davey “Michelle Tanner”, Josh Rauls, James Ikeda, Tyler Bisson, Felix Donate-Perez, Macaulay Lehrman, Kevin Boardman, Billy Phillhower, Nat “Posi Pal” Brown, Stevie Fitzpatrick, Joe Bruscini, Jordaan Mason, Chris Humphrey, Christian Holden, Amina Ameur, Lys Rota, Clarissa Gartner, Charles Geer, Josh Holden, Rodya Hutwagner, Jack McAuliffe, Wyndham Maxwell, Fenn Macon, Ori Nevo, Scott Oglesby, Jennifer Lee, Steph Venezia, Caraline Connor, Sasha Kohan, William James, Louis Roe, Jake McKelvie, Nori Needle, Momo McBrian, Tom Canavan, Alex Carlman, Milo Logan, Rainy Logan, Nick Decker, Cameron Leviere, Harrison Thurman, and anyone else who has helped me emotionally, as a friend, housed me, played games with me, dated me, sought out my presence, been there when I needed to cry or laugh, played shows with me, booked me shows, or anything else. My gratitude is endless. Finally, I would like to thank my three families: my immediate family (Mom & Dad, Matt, Tim, Kristen, and Duncan), my improv family (The Peapod Squad), and last but never least, the Doof Gans Collective (you know who you are).

This album is for all of you. I hope you find a place you can call home, no matter how cold.

All the characters represented on this album are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead except for Steven Segal and Jacques Derrida are (mostly) coincidental.

credits

released November 19, 2015

All songs written and performed by Jon Brien
Recorded, mixed and mastered by Jon Elfers
All rights reserved, 2015.

Physical copies courtesy of Honest Face Records
Album art by Jon Brien using a public domain image of a snowy city street

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Jon, the Archivist Worcester, Massachusetts

Jon the Archivist lives in Worcester, MA, and this is the sound of him screaming at nothing.

Honest Face Records

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