High Caliber

Alternative rock: electronic organ beneath twin distorted electric guitars with clipped interlocking riffs, palm-muted punches and ringing open chords, thick melodic bass, dry close-miked kick and snare with tom-heavy fills; detached male tenor, close-mic, breathy croon shifting to snarls, cracked belts and shouted harmonies; wiry midtempo verses detonating into stop-start fuzzy overload, low-mid-heavy mix, dropouts, amplifier hum, feedback squeals, pick scrapes and vicious bent-note solo, ‑saxophone

[Verse 1]

[clean twin guitars, dry drums and heavy bass; one guitar plays ringing chords while the other throws short melodic answers between vocal lines]

I never had much taste for ordinary.
Never wanted easy, never wanted slow.
I like the kind that walks into a room
and makes everybody want to know

[band strips to bass, kick and clipped guitar]

Black dress.
Red lips.
watching those hips.
Sharp little smile.
Danger in her eyes.

[quick guitar harmonic]

Buddy,
you don't know
how lucky you are.

[thick full-band hit]

She's HIGH CALIBER.

[Pre-Chorus]

[bass pushes forward; guitars become increasingly percussive; faint distortion begins creeping underneath the clean chords]

I called it passion.
I called it fire.
She called me worthless.
Then called me a liar.

[Chorus]

[MASSIVE ALT-ROCK DETONATION: twin distorted guitars, low-mid heavy fuzz, pounding drums, thick bass and stacked male harmonies; lead vocal leaps into a full-throated rough-edged belt]

HIGH CALIBER.
That's what I wanted.
She's got a little kick.
Somebody everybody wanted.

Another picture off the wall.
Another phone thrown down the hall.

[violent stop-start guitar punches]

She's HIGH CALIBER
hit you with a cannonball.

[INSTRUMENTAL TURN: thick palm-muted riff; second guitar answers with feedback squeals, pick scrapes and short ugly melodic bursts; sudden snap back to clean]

[Verse 2]

[instant return to controlled clean guitars, dry drums and bass; cool, melodic and deceptively restrained]

She looks real good
when she's screaming at me.

got me back against the door
Even better when she's sorry.

Mascara running,
saying,
"I don't know what I do."

then, "it's not me, it's you."

[dead stop]

Then she kisses the bruise
like that fixes a thing.

[bass briefly carries the melody]

Tells me nobody else
would put up with me.

And maybe she's right.

[one ringing open guitar chord]

Hell,
look at her.

[Pre-Chorus]

[drums hit harder; clean guitar begins breaking apart into distorted downstrokes]

I called it passion.
I called it wild.
I called it complicated.

she called me a child.

[Chorus]

[HEAVIER CHORUS: huge fuzzy twin guitars, distorted bass edge, hard snare, crashing cymbals and shouted male harmonies; lead vocal belts until the notes start cracking]

HIGH CALIBER.
That's what I wanted.
She's got a little kick.
Somebody everybody wanted.

Another picture off the wall.
Another phone thrown down the hall.

[full band slams each phrase]

She's HIGH CALIBER
hit you with a cannonball.

[INSTRUMENTAL: short vicious guitar solo; begins melodic, then dissolves into bent notes, feedback, pick scrapes and two guitars fighting over the same riff]

[Bridge]

[HALF-TIME DROP: heavy bass, dry kick and one nervous clean guitar; lots of empty space around the vocal]

Maybe pretty gets forgiven
for things ugly never could.

Maybe I kept saying "she's just crazy"
when I knew damn well I should

grab my keys,
and walk out that door.

[drums stop]

but she comes running

[feedback rises slowly]

and I don't know where I'm going anymore

[DRUM BREAK: tom-heavy pounding builds from a restrained groove into a violent full-kit eruption; distorted guitars stab between fills before the entire band drops out]

[Breakdown]

[near silence; bass pulse, faint amplifier hum and close breathy vocal]

HIGH CALIBER.

That's what I called it
when my friends said run.

[huge low distorted chord]

HIGH CALIBER.

Such a nice little phrase
for something built to leave a hole.

[BUILD: bass gets louder; drums return piece by piece; one clean guitar repeats a tense figure while the second gradually buries it beneath fuzz and feedback]

[Final Chorus]

[MAXIMUM ALT-ROCK OVERLOAD: enormous fuzzy twin-guitar wall, pounding drums, distorted bass, crashing cymbals, rough shouted doubles and stacked male harmonies; melodic hook still completely intact beneath the violence]

HIGH CALIBER.
That's what I wanted.
Somebody who had it all.
Somebody hard to live with.

Now there are holes in the wall.
Nothing left inside the hall.

[everything drops suddenly to bass and snare]

Everybody says,
"Goddamn, man,
how'd you land a girl like that?"

I say—

[hard stop]

"You can have her."

[Pause]

[clean opening guitar returns alone; perfectly controlled again]

Then she walks in.

[soft bass]

Black dress.

[second clean guitar enters]

Red lips.

[faint feedback]

Sharp little smile.

[everything disappears]

And I think—

[breathy male croon]

goddamn.

[one thick distorted chord slowly rises underneath]

She's HIGH CALIBER.

lock and load

[OUTRO: breathy stacked male harmonies repeat "HIGH CALIBER" over clean guitar and bass; fuzz slowly invades the edges until one violent feedback squeal cuts everything dead]

4942/7500

[INTRO: tight wiry 1990s alternative rock; dry kick and snare, thick melodic bass, two clean electric guitars playing clipped interlocking riffs; polished and controlled, but with a faint dirty guitar hum underneath] [Verse 1] [clean twin guitars, dry drums and heavy bass; one guitar plays ringing chords while the other throws short melodic answers between vocal lines] I never had much taste for ordinary. Never wanted easy, never wanted slow. I like the kind that walks into a room and makes everybody want to know [band strips to bass, kick and clipped guitar] Black dress. Red lips. watching those hips. Sharp little smile. Danger in her eyes. [quick guitar harmonic] Buddy, you don't know how lucky you are. [thick full-band hit] She's HIGH CALIBER. [Pre-Chorus] [bass pushes forward; guitars become increasingly percussive; faint distortion begins creeping underneath the clean chords] I called it passion. I called it fire. She called me worthless. Then called me a liar. [Chorus] [MASSIVE ALT-ROCK DETONATION: twin distorted guitars, low-mid heavy fuzz, pounding drums, thick bass and stacked male harmonies; lead vocal leaps into a full-throated rough-edged belt] HIGH CALIBER. That's what I wanted. She's got a little kick. Somebody everybody wanted. Another picture off the wall. Another phone thrown down the hall. [violent stop-start guitar punches] She's HIGH CALIBER hit you with a cannonball. [INSTRUMENTAL TURN: thick palm-muted riff; second guitar answers with feedback squeals, pick scrapes and short ugly melodic bursts; sudden snap back to clean] [Verse 2] [instant return to controlled clean guitars, dry drums and bass; cool, melodic and deceptively restrained] She looks real good when she's screaming at me. got me back against the door Even better when she's sorry. Mascara running, saying, "I don't know what I do." then, "it's not me, it's you." [dead stop] Then she kisses the bruise like that fixes a thing. [bass briefly carries the melody] Tells me nobody else would put up with me. And maybe she's right. [one ringing open guitar chord] Hell, look at her. [Pre-Chorus] [drums hit harder; clean guitar begins breaking apart into distorted downstrokes] I called it passion. I called it wild. I called it complicated. she called me a child. [Chorus] [HEAVIER CHORUS: huge fuzzy twin guitars, distorted bass edge, hard snare, crashing cymbals and shouted male harmonies; lead vocal belts until the notes start cracking] HIGH CALIBER. That's what I wanted. She's got a little kick. Somebody everybody wanted. Another picture off the wall. Another phone thrown down the hall. [full band slams each phrase] She's HIGH CALIBER hit you with a cannonball. [INSTRUMENTAL: short vicious guitar solo; begins melodic, then dissolves into bent notes, feedback, pick scrapes and two guitars fighting over the same riff] [Bridge] [HALF-TIME DROP: heavy bass, dry kick and one nervous clean guitar; lots of empty space around the vocal] Maybe pretty gets forgiven for things ugly never could. Maybe I kept saying "she's just crazy" when I knew damn well I should grab my keys, and walk out that door. [drums stop] but she comes running [feedback rises slowly] and I don't know where I'm going anymore [DRUM BREAK: tom-heavy pounding builds from a restrained groove into a violent full-kit eruption; distorted guitars stab between fills before the entire band drops out] [Breakdown] [near silence; bass pulse, faint amplifier hum and close breathy vocal] HIGH CALIBER. That's what I called it when my friends said run. [huge low distorted chord] HIGH CALIBER. Such a nice little phrase for something built to leave a hole. [BUILD: bass gets louder; drums return piece by piece; one clean guitar repeats a tense figure while the second gradually buries it beneath fuzz and feedback] [Final Chorus] [MAXIMUM ALT-ROCK OVERLOAD: enormous fuzzy twin-guitar wall, pounding drums, distorted bass, crashing cymbals, rough shouted doubles and stacked male harmonies; melodic hook still completely intact beneath the violence] HIGH CALIBER. That's what I wanted. Somebody who had it all. Somebody hard to live with. Now there are holes in the wall. Nothing left inside the hall. [everything drops suddenly to bass and snare] Everybody says, "Goddamn, man, how'd you land a girl like that?" I say— [hard stop] "You can have her." [Pause] [clean opening guitar returns alone; perfectly controlled again] Then she walks in. [soft bass] Black dress. [second clean guitar enters] Red lips. [faint feedback] Sharp little smile. [everything disappears] And I think— [breathy male croon] goddamn. [one thick distorted chord slowly rises underneath] She's HIGH CALIBER. lock and load [OUTRO: breathy stacked male harmonies repeat "HIGH CALIBER" over clean guitar and bass; fuzz slowly invades the edges until one violent feedback squeal cuts everything dead]

0/500