Alternating Current

[Genre(s): Noise punk, Post-Punk Revival, punk rock, rock] [Vocals: Rough, weathered voice, Urgent, conversational delivery—raw and half-shouted, Think Craig Finn, ] [Instrumentation: Overdriven Precision Bass; "prepared" upright piano with bolts on the strings; heavy, thudding floor-toms; jagged, angular electric guitar, ] [Production Notes: The mix is mid-heavy and claustrophobic, The drums should sound like a hydraulic press, Minimal reverb, maximum grit, ]

V4.5

[Verse 1: Vocals come in hot, riding the wave of the drums. Rapid, precise, and breathless. The acoustic guitar rings out with wide, open chords.]
The sky above the basin is a watercolor bruising,
All the violets and the indigoes are losing to the night,
And a hundred thousand bulbs are all simultaneously choosing
To go galvanized and glorious and blindingly white!
And the "White City" shimmers like a ghost or a gamble,
While the rubes and the royals all begin their preamble,
And you’re Harrisburg’s daughter with a laugh like a cannon,
And a tilt to your chin like a question of "when,"
And I’m the boy at the gate with my thumb on the grate,
Just a common-clock-worker in the gears of the state,
With the "tin" in my pocket and my heart on the "mash,"
I am watching the future go by in a flash!

[Verse 2: A soaring, slightly distorted fiddle enters, weaving a long, sweeping melody over the rolling drums.]
Now, they say that the Dynamo’s the god of the new century,
A copper-pennied monster with a hum like a prayer,
And I stood before the engine in a quiet documentary
Of the way the future’s finished with the horses and the air!
But the buzz of the current is a secondary miracle,
A hollow-hearted boast, something strictly numerical,
Because the gravity of you is pulling harder than the spinning,
Of a world that is only just now beginning!
Yeah, it’s "bully," it’s "solid," it’s a "jim-dandy" day,
When the world is a wonder and you’re looking my way!

[Chorus: Pitched slightly higher, bursting with earnest, overwhelming joy. The floor toms hit harder, and the cello digs deep to create a massive wall of sound.]
And it’s a kinetic reaction! It’s alternating current!
It’s the beautiful machinery of a brand new age!
And we’re caught in the gears, in a rushing, golden torrent,
Stepping out together right off the printed page!
And I’m trying to memorize the brass and the bone,
And the dust on your hem from the staff and the stone,
As the future comes to meet us in a mountain made of glass,
I am enraptured by the minutes as they pass, and pass, and pass!

[Verse 3: The instrumentation pulls back slightly, focusing on the resonant hum of the cello and the vocal delivery.]
Now, they built this city out of plaster—just a "staff" and jute shell,
But the architecture functions as a visionary spell.
And the columns may be hollow, and the marble may be fake,
But the splendor of the evening is a glorious mistake!
We are sharing candied pecans from a paper-folded cone,
In the shadow of a palace that is only mocking stone,
But the fragile, fleeting magic of the buildings in the gleam,
Is exactly how it feels to be awake inside a dream!

[Verse 4: The tempo pushes slightly faster, the phrasing becoming even more rapid and overwhelmed.]
Now we’re walking down the Midway where the whole world is a-spinning,
Through the alleys of the Cairo street where strange new drums are dinning,
Past the Javanese pavilions and the Irish castle walls,
Where the air is thick with cardamom and foreign market calls!
It’s an "all-fired" spectacle, it’s "grand" and it’s "great,"
It’s the whole of the planet in a six-shilling state,
And the earth is so expansive, and it's dizzying and wide,
And I'm feeling that exact same kind of miracle inside!

[Chorus: The full instrumentation crashes back in, massive and exuberant.]
And it’s a kinetic reaction! It’s alternating current!
It’s the beautiful machinery of a brand new age!
And we’re caught in the gears, in a rushing, golden torrent,
Stepping out together right off the printed page!
And I’m trying to memorize the brass and the bone,
And the dust on your hem from the staff and the stone,
As the future comes to meet us in a mountain made of glass,
I am enraptured by the minutes as they pass, and pass, and pass!

[Verse 5: The hammered dulcimer mimics the pitter-patter of rain, then the floor toms build a tribal, gathering storm.]
Then a Lake Michigan thunderclap rattles the panes,
And the Midwestern summer just collapses in rain!
And we’re laughing and we’re lunging for the Manufactures door,
Scattering the pigeons from the colonnade floor!
And the ozone is heavy and the water is clinging
To the edge of your chin while my temples are ringing,
And I’m watching the droplets fall down from your hair,
Like the brightest inventions that were ever in the air!

[Bridge: The music shifts into a staccato, percussive breakdown. The cello plays a jagged, repetitive "climbing" line.]
It’s a long way up!
(It’s a long way up!)
On a wheel made of steel and a prayer in the cup!
(On a wheel made of steel and a prayer in the cup!)
And the "White City" shrinks to a toy in the night,
As we’re hauled by the chain to the center of light!
And we’re "stuck on the summit," we’re "left on the line,"
Between the "reckoning of God" and a "design of the divine!"
But I don’t see the lake, and I don't see the fair,
I just see the way that you're fixing your hair,
Yeah, the world is a marvel, and the world is a "show,"
But you’re the only "solid" thing I’m ever gonna know!
For a hundred!
For a thousand!
For the rest of the age!

[Instrumental Break: Absolute chaos. The overdriven fiddle, dulcimer, and ringing acoustic guitar explode into a massive, wall-of-sound crescendo. It is a euphoric, wordless scream of music over rolling thunder.]

[Outro: The instrumentation enters a "wall of sound" crescendo—chaotic, joyful, and immense. The singer ad-libs "The light! The light! The manufactured light!" over the thunderous toms before it all ends on a single, ringing acoustic guitar chord that sustains into silence.]

6916/7500

[Intro: A low, menacing groan of a bowed cello sets an expectant mood. Suddenly, a frantic, cascading run on a hammered dulcimer breaks the tension, immediately joined by a thunderous, rolling beat on the floor toms. It is driving and relentless, not bouncy.] [Verse 1: Vocals come in hot, riding the wave of the drums. Rapid, precise, and breathless. The acoustic guitar rings out with wide, open chords.] The sky above the basin is a watercolor bruising, All the violets and the indigoes are losing to the night, And a hundred thousand bulbs are all simultaneously choosing To go galvanized and glorious and blindingly white! And the "White City" shimmers like a ghost or a gamble, While the rubes and the royals all begin their preamble, And you’re Harrisburg’s daughter with a laugh like a cannon, And a tilt to your chin like a question of "when," And I’m the boy at the gate with my thumb on the grate, Just a common-clock-worker in the gears of the state, With the "tin" in my pocket and my heart on the "mash," I am watching the future go by in a flash! [Verse 2: A soaring, slightly distorted fiddle enters, weaving a long, sweeping melody over the rolling drums.] Now, they say that the Dynamo’s the god of the new century, A copper-pennied monster with a hum like a prayer, And I stood before the engine in a quiet documentary Of the way the future’s finished with the horses and the air! But the buzz of the current is a secondary miracle, A hollow-hearted boast, something strictly numerical, Because the gravity of you is pulling harder than the spinning, Of a world that is only just now beginning! Yeah, it’s "bully," it’s "solid," it’s a "jim-dandy" day, When the world is a wonder and you’re looking my way! [Chorus: Pitched slightly higher, bursting with earnest, overwhelming joy. The floor toms hit harder, and the cello digs deep to create a massive wall of sound.] And it’s a kinetic reaction! It’s alternating current! It’s the beautiful machinery of a brand new age! And we’re caught in the gears, in a rushing, golden torrent, Stepping out together right off the printed page! And I’m trying to memorize the brass and the bone, And the dust on your hem from the staff and the stone, As the future comes to meet us in a mountain made of glass, I am enraptured by the minutes as they pass, and pass, and pass! [Verse 3: The instrumentation pulls back slightly, focusing on the resonant hum of the cello and the vocal delivery.] Now, they built this city out of plaster—just a "staff" and jute shell, But the architecture functions as a visionary spell. And the columns may be hollow, and the marble may be fake, But the splendor of the evening is a glorious mistake! We are sharing candied pecans from a paper-folded cone, In the shadow of a palace that is only mocking stone, But the fragile, fleeting magic of the buildings in the gleam, Is exactly how it feels to be awake inside a dream! [Verse 4: The tempo pushes slightly faster, the phrasing becoming even more rapid and overwhelmed.] Now we’re walking down the Midway where the whole world is a-spinning, Through the alleys of the Cairo street where strange new drums are dinning, Past the Javanese pavilions and the Irish castle walls, Where the air is thick with cardamom and foreign market calls! It’s an "all-fired" spectacle, it’s "grand" and it’s "great," It’s the whole of the planet in a six-shilling state, And the earth is so expansive, and it's dizzying and wide, And I'm feeling that exact same kind of miracle inside! [Chorus: The full instrumentation crashes back in, massive and exuberant.] And it’s a kinetic reaction! It’s alternating current! It’s the beautiful machinery of a brand new age! And we’re caught in the gears, in a rushing, golden torrent, Stepping out together right off the printed page! And I’m trying to memorize the brass and the bone, And the dust on your hem from the staff and the stone, As the future comes to meet us in a mountain made of glass, I am enraptured by the minutes as they pass, and pass, and pass! [Verse 5: The hammered dulcimer mimics the pitter-patter of rain, then the floor toms build a tribal, gathering storm.] Then a Lake Michigan thunderclap rattles the panes, And the Midwestern summer just collapses in rain! And we’re laughing and we’re lunging for the Manufactures door, Scattering the pigeons from the colonnade floor! And the ozone is heavy and the water is clinging To the edge of your chin while my temples are ringing, And I’m watching the droplets fall down from your hair, Like the brightest inventions that were ever in the air! [Verse 5: The hammered dulcimer mimics the pitter-patter of rain, then the floor toms build a tribal, gathering storm.] Then a Lake Michigan thunderclap rattles the panes, And the Midwestern summer just collapses in rain! And we’re laughing and we’re lunging for the Manufactures door, Scattering the pigeons from the colonnade floor! And the ozone is heavy and the water is clinging To the edge of your chin while my temples are ringing, And I’m watching the droplets fall down from your hair, Like the brightest inventions that were ever in the air! [Bridge: The music shifts into a staccato, percussive breakdown. The cello plays a jagged, repetitive "climbing" line.] It’s a long way up! (It’s a long way up!) On a wheel made of steel and a prayer in the cup! (On a wheel made of steel and a prayer in the cup!) And the "White City" shrinks to a toy in the night, As we’re hauled by the chain to the center of light! And we’re "stuck on the summit," we’re "left on the line," Between the "reckoning of God" and a "design of the divine!" But I don’t see the lake, and I don't see the fair, I just see the way that you're fixing your hair, Yeah, the world is a marvel, and the world is a "show," But you’re the only "solid" thing I’m ever gonna know! For a hundred! For a thousand! For the rest of the age! [Instrumental Break: Absolute chaos. The overdriven fiddle, dulcimer, and ringing acoustic guitar explode into a massive, wall-of-sound crescendo. It is a euphoric, wordless scream of music over rolling thunder.] [Chorus: The full instrumentation crashes back in, massive and exuberant.] And it’s a kinetic reaction! It’s alternating current! It’s the beautiful machinery of a brand new age! And we’re caught in the gears, in a rushing, golden torrent, Stepping out together right off the printed page! And I’m trying to memorize the brass and the bone, And the dust on your hem from the staff and the stone, As the future comes to meet us in a mountain made of glass, I am enraptured by the minutes as they pass, and pass, and pass! [Outro: The instrumentation enters a "wall of sound" crescendo—chaotic, joyful, and immense. The singer ad-libs "The light! The light! The manufactured light!" over the thunderous toms before it all ends on a single, ringing acoustic guitar chord that sustains into silence.]

0/500