Funny Language

by Funny Language

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about

This self-titled EP is a collection of songs that demonstrate Funny Language's eclectic sound and influences - from rock, folk, and country to R&B, jazz, and blues. The unique combination of styles and the energy captured in live tracking bring vibrant color and life to Perry's songs, which mark his journey from Nashville to New York, offering glimpses of all the misadventures along the way.

credits

released May 30, 2015

Ricky Perry: songwriter, lead vocals, guitar, keyboards, trumpet, percussion

Karen Alsen: vocals, keyboards, mandolin

Luke Schneiders: vocals, drums, percussion

Jeff Angell: vocals, bass

Engineering/mixing: Mike Odmark

Mastering: Matthew Odmark - Original Masters

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all rights reserved

about

Funny Language New York, New York

In 2011, guitarist, Ricky Perry, and drummer, Luke Schneiders, met in music therapy school and decided to play some songs. When fellow music therapist/bassist, Jeff Angell, and environmental educator/earth sister/multi-instrumentalist, Karen Alsen, joined, the sound was complete and Funny Language was born. ... more

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Track Name: Broken Window
Dripping and dropping my feet on the beach,
Pale as the moon on her cheeks,
Bless the night and curse the silver screen.

Raised between souths and a northeastern smile,
Familiar with hope to a fault,
Somehow surprised by a pattern of change,
No lesson plan brings my hope to a halt,
Mother’s milk was mother’s poison, too.

What’s the time?
Shouldn’t you be getting back to modern life,
Slip into a suit and find a loyal wife,
When can we quit all our money jobs?

Don’t drown before you hit the water

Won’t you tell me where your world is at?
Before we go you need to know we’re never coming back here,
I see you flyin’ up the ziggurat,
You got the stuff that makes a southern beauty queen so sincere.

Babies were crying around restless phones,
Father was flying and now that we’re grown,
It’s strange how stories start to make real sense.
Drunk as a college fraternity boy,
Falling for falling in love,
Angels and serpents appear at the door,
History’s screamin’ but not loud enough, oh,
What’s the use if not to laugh and fall apart?

Take a smile,
Take a friend and take a drink and Take a while,
Take a fall and take a thought that’s Out of style,
Take it ‘til you can’t give anymore.

Don’t drown before you hit the water

Won’t you tell me where your world is at?
Before we go you need to know we’re never coming back here,
I see you flyin’ up the ziggurat,
You got the stuff that makes a southern beauty queen so sincere.
Your mother’s callin’ on the telephone,
She says she doesn’t understand why you should be alone still,
You wanna drop your head and disappear,
As if a hundred years would pass and you would still be here.
Track Name: Funny Language
I stop to think about some words and laugh at pointless punctuation,
The way we paint a pretty poem or modify a situation,
The way a darling prim and proper handles homeless recollection,
Or tries to cool a heated lover
with a smile and an inflection,

My neighbor waves a hug and
stumbles down the porch intoxicated,
And everyone is staring at the trees trying to find different ways
To say “elated,”

Now is this progress that we’ve made or is it sexual frustration?
A president that never fades or pacifies a crying nation,
You can hug me, you can kiss me, I can’t quite tell if you mean it,
And we go out and pick a movie, It don’t matter if we’ve seen it,

I take a sentence that I’ve heard
and wander off in eight directions,
I walk into a restaurant and try to make a big connection

There’s always something to be said.
There’s always somebody who means it,
And of the mess that we all dread,
There’s always somebody who cleans it.

I love the early morning hours when you’re too tired to wear your makeup,
I rectify a casual smile just minutes after we both wake up,
I listen to God’s honest truth and then I’m asked about the weather,
I say “hello, how do you do” and drop an anvil on a feather,

Now when you tell me that you love me are you thinking of your mother?
‘Cause when I’m honest with myself I imitate my older brothers,

I’d love to meet you at a party,
I’d love to take you out to dinner,
Some day you’ll line me up with strangers and you’ll pick yourself
a winner,

There’s always something to be said.
There’s always somebody who means it,
And of the mess that we all dread,
There’s always somebody who cleans it,
We shape our lips and face and hands,
To try to recreate a story,
And though nobody understands,
We bask in sunshine and its glory.
Track Name: Love Songs
We talk,
We talk in pairs,
We stand and stare and every now and then,
We think “it’s love.”

This is different, it’s love.

We try to listen,
Not to project,
But at our best we’re still just second to the truth,

This feels like it’s love.

Well, don’t put words in my mouth,
But I put words in your mouth,
And we converse in thin air,
And fall in love where we can’t.

Every love song, every love song was wrong.

Can I ask you,
To love me all the ways I need to be loved,
And love you just the same?
These scales mustn’t tip.

We start to care,
Though love’s aware of all its little problems,
There’s darkness in our laughter,

God bless the humor that’s intact.

Well, we got what we need now,
But needs are ever changing,
So let’s be honest, let’s speak loudly,
When the things we need so badly,
Seem so out of reach,
Let’s talk.

I love you, I love you, I do, There’s nothing to it.
Track Name: The River
River’s rising round the corner,
Marks the birthdays on the wall,
Curls you up in time for winter,
Soothes you like a southern drawl.

Fallin’ fast asleep,
Driftin’ far too deep.

You’ve got to separate,
And put yourself together,
‘Cause there’s a cold floor,
Before you get to that shower,
You’re in a warm bed,
It’s what you know,
But what you don’t,
Is gonna show.

Are you tempted by the summer?
Kitchen’s cookin’ on its own,
Ivy’s climbin’ up the chapel,
Shake the sugar before it’s stone,

Fallin’ fast asleep,
Driftin’ far too deep,
Read your story loud,
Flee the roaring crowd.

You gotta separate,
And put yourself together,
‘Cause there’s a cold floor,
Before you get to that shower,
You’re in a warm bed,
It’s what you know,
But what you don’t,
Is gonna show.

Shake it up,
You’ve got plenty, You’ve got plenty to lose.
Track Name: The Streets
This old street of mine,
Doesn’t care what you think,
Doesn’t stop to think twice
Of how nice it will be
When the leaves change again.

She’s my homecoming queen,
And her porches sit right,
With the smell of the air,
Lifting crickets and cares,
But she tells me to go.

She’s a friend that ain’t friendly,
But she calms just as cool as she caves,
When you push and you pull,
It’s the you that you love who she saves.

So we open the doors,
And shout right through our lungs,
And the trees whisper “Ain’t nothin’ permanent,”
Of course there’s the way we all talk.

There’s the way we all walk,
When our problems catch fire,
And the sidewalks are flooded,
The boots caked with mud,
It’s the way we respond.

She’s a friend that ain’t friendly,
But she calms just as cool as she caves,
When you push and you pull,
It’s the you that you love who she saves.
There’s space in my heart
for a place that can shape who you are,
And a heart in a place
That can bleed through your thoughts from afar.

It’s a long, long, long, long road.
Track Name: Two Hours
You got two hours to live,
You got two hours to die,
You got two hours to spare,
Two hours to wonder “why?”

Is it gonna be enough,
Has the journey been the thing,
Did you get what you were after?
Did you get the diamond ring?
Oh, shit.

Tell me, what’s the stuff that mattered?
Did you reach the mountain top?
Will you stop and take a look or keep on climbing til you drop?
My God.

She says she wonders what’ll go through her mind,
But she’s been there twice before,
And fell asleep both times,
Do you see the things around you?
Or do you stare like you’re blind?
You got two hours to live,
But you’ve already died.
Track Name: Young Professional
I’m dressed like a young professional,
I can’t stay for long,
I caress my young receptacle,
Grasping for a song,

No one’s watching,
No one’s waiting,
We are all alone,
Beeping, booping, young professional,
Buying my new phone.

I call up a young professional,
We go grab a drink,
Stepping stones are sinking as we buy some time to think,

People talking, window shopping,
People fucking up.
Where’s the path and what’s professional?
What should fill my cup?

Dreaming,
Curves and cravings,
Feeling,
Tough and raising
Questions clothed in well-timed curiosity.

I can’t reach the work bench,
But I know a guy who can,
Thinking, big space, doing, and we all drive used sedans.

Baby boomers boost our egos while we stroll straight ahead,
Maybe it’s just generational,
Who knows what we’ve fled,

Will the waves that burst from us recede into the tide,
Of our parents’ upbringings?
Well, I’m not taking sides.

Swirling ‘round,
Twenty-something universes crashing down,
Thirty is the new position,
Less regard and more transmissions.

Busy, busy, busy,
That’s what we all like to say,
Don’t be first to reach the front and don’t get in the way,
Calling home and showing bruises,
Throwing in the towel,
Pant suits and evaluations,
Language just as foul.

I can’t reach the work bench,
But I know a guy who can,
Thinking, big space, doing, and we all drive used sedans.
College students armed with life descriptions they recite,
Knowledge, power, sex, and good work, How to sleep at night.
Thinking, doing.