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We Can't Be Wrong

by Minor Characters

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1.
Nola 03:48
As the back roads came undone I am failing as your son To the treetop napping sun I am failing as your son Don’t forgive me if I go I am leery of Chicago If your bed’s cold down by your toes I got weary of Chicago I’m on my way to New Orleans I’ve been thinking about heaven today.
2.
Memphis 06:25
Heard you got lucky, came into some money New York City, you think, is the place you’ll be heard All my songs come before you, they’re just out to get you I know it ‘cause you screamed from a phone in LA My stomach is ulcered, let’s go play some shit shows Let’s drive down to Memphis and weep at his grave When you point to a teardrop and ask why I’m laughing You know it, I told you, we’ve done this before And you pulled at my arm and I spilled my Huge Ass Beer I let out a violent cry With the soft, shitty blues intertwining the twilight You showed me where Jeff Buckley died The Grey Goose is leavin’ you, Memphis is killin’ you The racism, you say, is “like, so over the top.” But we’re good for an hour, make love for an hour Then I say something sexist, I’m kicked to the curb Where people take pictures of Elvis’ picture I vow to be famous, I’ll sell my soul Down by the Mud River, or to a cabin in Wisconsin To Wilco’s Chicago, or this Tennessee moon So we sat in a car making closer decisions To leavin’ things just how they are And in the spirit of Elvis’ gravesite beside us Left Graceland by car and by plane Are you okay now? The worst part is over But I hear painkillers and wine in your throat! While a girl from some website self loathes around my place The cell phone destroyed us, let’s make shit by hand You hate all music, I’m over-exaggerate I hope that I open for you one day ‘cause your favorite folk singer is my favorite folk singer You live in his voice, I live in him too. You live in his voice, I live in him too.
3.
Glory Days 03:16
These my glory days Just a glossy glaze These my drinkin’ days It’s just an endless phase How do we describe our future from inside of this hole? Down the sun-blazed road, the spangled stripper pole down America’s soul The infinite malaise, were those my glory days that I just pissed away? You, my youth abound Caught in a head-locked town Let me age in peace Let me try to sleep How do I describe the glory stuck inside of my eyes? The principal of pride, the panicked poltergeist ties the president’s ties I’m down the sun-blazed road, the spangled strangle hold on America’s soul The infinite malaise, were those my glory days that I just pissed away? Your glory days ain’t my glory days.
4.
Kamakura! 03:36
I am cultured, I am modern, I am Bannon’s enemy His nose is red, his eyes are black, his skin’s a sickly sea-foam green I drive a stupid Hybrid that is eating me alive So I’m on a plane to Tokyo, I’m taking your advice: I’m living like a monk But secretly just drunk And screaming like a punk for now I try out for indie rock bands in Shinjuku, out of key Tell them I’m the saddest singer east of the Mississippi They thought I was from Brooklyn so they booked a bunch of shows Up in Shimokitizawa where the cool kids tend to go So I played some Panda Bear And I sang some Bon Iver And then I start to cry up there I am east of Eden, you are on my mind I am east of people foaming all the time The impermanence was perfect in my mind Now it’s gone And I just want the Western World to believe again I swear it was a fluke! I really can handle my shit But Kazu said to take the weekend and go rest my soul a bit Slip and slide in Tsukiji Market, bow my head and make a fist I was thinking of Steve Bannon and I almost slit my wrist With a bamboo chopstick The blood of forty thousand fish at my feet I go down to Kamakura to emerge myself a king Kneeling down in ancient temples but I do not feel a thing I decide to fly on home and kiss the soil when I land But I get locked inside the airport on some Asian travel band Or a Buddhist travel ban Or some racist travel band And I’m locked inside Kamakura, Japan! I am east of Eden, you are on my mind I am east of people foaming all the time The impermanence was perfect in my mind Now it’s gone And I just want the western world to believe again.
5.
I’m in a band Wash-out all those vocals, slap some nasty delay ‘cause I’m in a band Let’s get booked by billions and cut out all the heart from all the art we make, yeah. I’m American Watch me stoop so low, tele-fascism in slo mo I’m American And everyone treads on me No one better breathe near me who’s not like me, boy. Let’s bleed out in a car and piss out PBR I guess I’ll just pretend That I’m American I never follow facts, just the alternative facts that I’m in band, we just got picked by JagJag ‘cause we don’t play no solos in the art we make, right? Let’s make a little bet we’ll go deep into debt But fuck it it’s just debt I so really believe it’s worth the wait To finally understand right now why: I don’t wanna be in a band no more I don’t wanna feel so scared no more I can’t be an American no more.
6.
I’m entertained She’s entertained The governor is a pop star And we’re entertained by the Pimps of Freedom pissin’ history Whores of D.C., we’re bended on our knees Television, a nation turns its eyes to you Come FBI C’mon CIA Can’t stop the pop governor We’re too entertained by the Pimps of Freedom, pissin’ history Whores of D.C., we’re bended on our knees Richard Nixon, when we gonna learn? Pimps of Freedom, pissin’ history Whores of D.C. got rugburns on your knees Your wicked vision, a generation turns on you once again.
7.
Canvas Kid 07:58
An ironic autograph for my bully from middle school At a suburban bar where I tend to keep clandestine faith Bully: “Hey, bro, remember when you’d sing Nirvana songs all day? You were a superstar. That’s why I screwed your sister, dude.” Me: “Well, now I teach children’s songs to kids full of future first class cash. I have a therapist and a Roth IRA, my God.” Swipe me some sympathy, the internet really messed me up As did the Great Recession, still have to beg for steady work Me: “I have a girlfriend now. She’s like a patient patron saint. She lives in Silver Lake, but moving here ‘cause I’m afraid Of southern California and actin’ too cool In retrospect I shoulda made some grand gesture Like drive out there and declare my clinical ulcer Dissolved with the absolve of my cynical nature but some don’t’ change How Midwest of me.” Now we live modestly and she cooks my vegan food from scratch Right off the boulevard, but like a good Catholic, still hung up Bully: “I’m seriously sorry, man, for beating you senseless at the pool. I was a jealous boy, and you had so much to give the world.” Me: “Well I got, like, nothin’ now if you wanna take another swing. Remember in middle school? You guys would call me Canvas Kid? I was always wipin’ out on those wrestling mats On second thought I wish I still was that resilient I’ve tried to say things my band said I had an answer Now threats to sue, I hope I get throat cancer Then I could quit- nobody can blame you for cancer- Well, look at me now. I’m drunk as hell.” If some kind of fantasy makes its home I’m a middle class tragedy rabid with foam If anything shadowy make its home I’m drinking class majesty please drive me home If anything shadowy makes its home I’ll survive.
8.
Have you seen my soviet girlfriend? Have you seen my subservient wife? Hey Ivanka, who’s side is your daddy on? Will you be my Millennial wife? Tear this fucker down. Have you seen my Millennial girlfriend? Have you seen my Millennial wife? Hey Ivanka, I got you on Kompromat, yeah Kompromat (that’s a new word) Vodka-infused Millennial strife Bring the bloodhounds round. Tear this fucker down.
9.
So if my math is right I should be dead A surge of liquid brings my heart to my breath Poured my blood out to see if you’d come quick Whored my band out but could not turn the trick Fought through the wounds of a silent treatment day I’m just a toss, just a friend that gets phased out Then somebody said: “It will be this next record. Wait till my friends at that blog hear this shit, man.” So if my math is right we should be clear A purge of typing brings my heart to your ears Slim lottery to be a buzzed-up hot-shit band I never saw this new craving coming clear I’m still a kid, I still want to go places But now I’m a man, I don’t need to go places But I should be dead, I might want to go places.

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released April 6, 2018

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Minor Characters Chicago, Illinois

Minor Characters is an indie act from Chicago whose music is a mixture of well-crafted songwriting, pop sensibility, and a rare earnestness that’s difficult to overlook. The resulting combination is a carefully composed sound with classic pop leanings that ends up sounding both familiar and fresh. ... more

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