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Off You Go

by Gladiola

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1.
I bought you a record for the nice price Took it to your house The doorbell played Edelweiss In the twilight sparkling endlessly Like bumper car upholstery We multiplied our dreams Said goodbye to this sleepy land Drove past volunteer fire departments and farm stands Then bright jumpsuits on the median grass And warnings on the overpass Tonight I’m starting to believe This city is just a factory Turning promises into a joke That goes on and on The shower was in the kitchen, we split the rent Signed up for the struggle Picked it up as we went And if righteousness alone could crack through stone This would have crumbled a long, long time ago And they come home with you at night Shiver in the hallway, pick a fight They hang out in your dreams And the impossible dawn, the scattered light The polished thought, the truth outright There’s a life waiting for us if we fail It’s out there by the last stop Of the commuter rail We can see the stars at night again Forget what we know, and just pretend Maybe we should put that old record on And drive around for an hour or two ‘Cause when I’m close to the end I look to you And you keep on pushing so I’ll keep on pushing, too
2.
On a cool, cool rise I often think of you When the air is lush And the salt of the sea It comes in pieces to me We were fools alright Down in my brothers room Dancing to “Planet Rock” Twelve times a day It comes in pieces to me And then you’d fade away Come the fall To the city that I heard about But never saw Tiny jewels of light Rising up from the grass And then fizzing out Like bubbles in a glass Fireflies you and me By the pool that night They called you the fresh air kid And it carved me out All rind, no fruit Some good deeds don’t work out so good All of those oiled nights My dad’s free advice When I dare to think about it Comes a price
3.
Bus on a Monday, the human press You see your house on the hill Trying to climb where others just float Can’t believe they believe that shit still Wandering the pockets of your pinstripe suit While the bus lunges past burning glass A memorial card with a photo and a psalm Reminds you when you wore it last Ooh, nobody could walk through this heat so cool And one day this street will be named after you Today is a page in your biography Today is a page in your biography Sometimes with the sadness of a ramshackle truck Carrying somebody’s bed in the rain The architects were planning for riots The artist was dreaming of a train There goes Jazmine in her bandaged hand Where her dog bit her right to the bone You used to walk her home three years ago Now she walks alone And you better learn to love this feeling ‘Cause help’s not on the way You’re pushed out to the edge And there’s no time Young and unsung and constantly bringing And shadowed by ghosts, how long? The afternoon orange soda light Drips off the burning glass
4.
No Flag 04:14
Walking down a four-lane In a loose knot, with a new plot On the last day of school Sashary’s got a line on a party But it’s too early to commit to that Alex says, “Do you know right now, what would taste so good?” We were moving into something All the sudden, you were gone Shary’s heading out to Pittsburgh in the fall Lisa’s up to Portland Maine Alex is UMASS Amherst bound But you got no papers, got no numbers Got no flag You’ll just be sticking around Gazing on the granular skyline you said “I’ll die on these streets.” Sometimes when they tell it You came over when you were four And in other versions you were three The only memories that you can trust All start on Terminal Street Running down the stairs with Alex out onto The courtyard’s living dream It’s public art, they call it crime But there’s no borders around these lines And now the colors are running down the street We pledged our lives so many times Those old orphan scapegoat rhymes Now there’s nothing, we’re just running down the street
5.
I can’t stay on track Cities and dates on someone’s back Thoughts of me and you Breaking into the pool Seeing with our fingertips The breaker flips, the light Is jaundiced and thin And you spend your whole life waiting around For somebody to share the sound And you spend your whole life waiting around Flat on the floor TV’s on in the house next door And the gauze of heat Pulls the will right out of me And the daylight goes, The traffic flows, the lights, The soundtrack the sin I am holding out a flame for you I feel, I feel I am holding out a flame for you Come near, come near
6.
Birdman 03:21
Absently Whittington fingers a pellet That hangs there suspended between flesh and gullet Birdman The barking of birddogs, the vapors of bourbon Forever reminders of shots in the morning Birdman He’s longing for old days when friendships were less complicated On wheels of fire to the library makeshift infirmary bed On wheels of fire to the library makeshift infirmary bed Under the heat and plotting deceit Just try to hang on Birdman Receiving his grandkids, their slow eyed appraisal The borders of skin grafts, the values of paintings Birdman So, too, is Whittington lost in assessing The battles for nothing, his country regressing Birdman Always removed from the boys in the school Who paid their way cutting limes You stood on the wrong side of the line From the Little Rock Nine
7.
Green grass growing under last year’s leaves And every thought of you feels like a disease But I’m stuck to you, stuck here with this name The silence at the courthouse was profane How could you, James? Telegraph clacks of skateboard wheels Send a message to the future, it’s a humble appeal: “The past is always primitive, and you’ll slip through the same.” Somewhere a teacher wonders how you could have been reclaimed How could you, James? You went away Something bigger than yourself, something bigger than yourself Was all you could say Almost three years in the desert And you brought it home And you plugged into the American life That’s bathed in the parking lot’s sodium light Bottled and tweaked like the drinks for sale inside I told you, I told you, you wouldn’t come back the same How could you, James? Two kids who grew up in a neighboring town What could they have said to make you cut ‘em down On a Sunday night, with a broom-swept sky in flames One of them was on the phone with his mom when the ambulance came
8.
Residue 03:23
It’s a good life, tiny problems You called me on the way home The fields were flooded, kids had on short sleeves and… Said you were leaving, got a new job You called me on the way home The earth was a new gash bared to the sun I should say up front I’m bad at staying in touch So if you don’t hear from me too much… A book you read really got to you You were walking around with the residue The ice was melting, you felt bigger inside And I welled with an urge to apologize Acorns bouncing on the parkway Drumming down on my car Happy New Year to you wherever you are I was learning how to listen I guess throw it on the pile Of all the projects that just never get done The things you’re not supposed to say I wish I said I been thinking hard, I been thinking hard You won’t feel it where you are
9.
Caroline, you should be sleeping It’s been already a year It’s been a year The day is here I’ve got secrets I’ve been keeping They don’t matter anymore The cars rush by your window Low rumble clouds of bass lull you to sleep And I feel you across the moonlit hall Walking slowly through the day Late afternoon begins to play Golden light floods our street and flows Breathe in deep, try to keep Done with work the people walking… Suddenly my love got double heavy I was ready, I was sure Everything you seen in front of you is yours And I won’t hold you back And I feel you across the length of days Pill-white snow falls on your lashes Seized by love in sudden flashes Everyday reasons to let it show Don’t let go, I must take hold Around the pond the people walking…
10.
From a plane it looks like a knife Like the knife that took young Terry’s life After a rain it smells like fish sticks Boys leaping off into the Little Mystic Connected to the mother by a tiny stream The archives burn in a collective dream All the myths, they trump statistics Boys leaping off into the Little Mystic And shivering by the side of the road Were they waving goodbye, or waving hello? Salt pyramids and drying grass Up on the rail, and off you go Del’s apron’s property of The Food Bazaar He shadows a man who can’t find his car Row by row somnambulistic Boys leaping off into the Little Mystic Saddled with four grocery bags Concentrating on the delts and lats All his thoughts are futuristic Boys leaping off into the Little Mystic Holly works at the sub shop all day on her feet Then they walk down dryer vent scented streets Del swears he not cold, she wears icy lipstick Boys leaping off, they’re leaping off

about

“Write what you know.” It’s one of the most often-dispensed pieces of advice to writers, as Gladiola songwriter and English teacher Bill Madden-Fuoco knows. When working out the songs for the band’s third album, Off You Go, he took the aphorism to heart and gleaned lyrical inspiration from his Boston Public high school students. “Most of the songs are about teenagers, and a lot of the ideas came right from the classroom,” he explains.

For example, “Your Biography,” the crashing and soaring anthem that evokes Mission of Burma, is rooted in an epiphany hatched from a class reading of The Autobiography of Malcolm X. “We were reading the part where the teenage Malcolm first arrives in Boston from Michigan, and his sister Ella implores him to spend his first few days exploring the city,” says Madden-Fuoco. “The book describes him walking down specific streets in Roxbury and Dorchester, and I just had this picture of a future leader wandering around, the crowds oblivious to him. It made me think of my students and how often people overlook and underestimate them. The song updates that idea.”

Similarly, “No Flag” tells the story of a group of friends graduating high school, their shared path about to diverge into different destinations. For one character, an undocumented immigrant, the path seems to disappear altogether. “I didn’t set out to write a song about immigration issues,” says Madden-Fuoco, “but this is the story of many students I know, and it’s not a story that you can just file away. For me, songs are often formed from the thoughts that are stuck in heavy rotation.”

Off You Go arrives five years after the release of the band’s second album, There is No Road. The long gap is the result of an unanticipated three-year recording process. One night bass player Chris Regalia showed up at the band’s Charlestown rehearsal space with a Tascam digital Portastudio. “We started recording demos, which sounded good, so we decided to record this album ourselves,” says Regalia, who served as engineer. The recording desk was set up facing a wall in the cramped space, necessitating Regalia to constantly crane his head around to communicate with the band. After two sessions, his neck was too sore and stiff to continue. The solution: an array of dollar store mirrors hung over the console. “I still don’t understand how it took us so long,” says Madden-Fuoco. “The results are great, and the price was right, but I don’t know if I’d do that again.” Once everything was recorded, the band handed it over to trusted partner Dave Minehan, who had recorded the first two Gladiola albums at his Woolly Mammoth studio, for mixing.

Off You Go is the first Gladiola album to feature drummer David Mohs, who took over when original drummer Gary Vitagliano moved to Ireland. Jess Madden-Fuoco, who contributes vocals, rounds out the band. Gladiola’s history begins during the summer of 2002, when Bill had put together the band for a “recording project” (the band’s initial incarnation included Tim Madden on keyboards and electronics and Eric Shepherd on second guitar). Jess floated the idea to sing a surprise set of cover songs with the Gladiola boys at her and Bill’s upcoming wedding reception. Thus the quick and temporary transformation of Gladiola into a cover band. On August 17, 2002, hours after the two became the Madden-Fuocos, Jess sang Beatles, Blondie, and Cyndi Lauper songs in full bridal regalia to a stunned audience of wedding guests. Her first-ever rock performance and ingratiation into the band.

In 2003, Gladiola fulfilled its original purpose: the completion of Let the Notes Go Free, an album of songs Bill had written since his old band, Resolve, called it quits after a decade-plus.

Let the Notes Go Free received an official self-release in 2004. The Boston Globe called Gladiola “very appealing, clever pop-rock noisemakers,” and The Noise implored readers to “Please get this.” Commercial and college radio stations transmitted Let the Notes Go Free over Boston frequencies. The “project” conceit soon evaporated.

credits

released May 1, 2013

Bill Madden-Fuoco: vocals, guitars, keyboards, etc.
Jessica Madden-Fuoco: vocals
David Mohs: drums
Chris Regalia: bass, backing vocals

Scott Miller played saxophone on “Your Biography”

Recorded by Chris Regalia in Room 19
Mixed by David Minehan at Woolly Mammoth
Mastered by Roger Seibel at SAE Mastering
Cover photo: “Exit Calls” by Christine Weimers

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