Hypocrisy In The Genius Room

by Rob Getzschman

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about

Rob Getzschman's fifth album is his first self-produced effort. Recorded in studios from Maine to Washington, DC and St. Louis, the songs hop genres from indie rock to experimental noise, from jazz to folk ballads and even a ragtime guitar instrumental to close the album. One song decries dance crazes, another declares the death of antifolk, while "Make It Plane" assures that "all we ever wanted was a solid gold sonnet on a breakbeat".

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released September 28, 2005

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Rob Getzschman Los Angeles, California

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Track Name: Pockets Of Resistance
Well the train I ride is an old-school engine, fourteen coaches long
And the battle cry of a new republic stokes my fire strong
There's forty-nine tracks into Union Station off the east Atlantic line
Come crash through the walls of a generation right about suppertime

Hey yeah, we got the satellite hookup
Hey yeah, we got the frequency
Hey yeah, for all the lone guerilla monitors
When the angels sing

Well the girl I love is a revolutionary like the written word
Hidden on a page that'll change the ages once it's seen and heard
I've heard about a plan for to sink the man around the industry underground
And when the media quacks read the telepromters, they'll know what's going down

Hey yeah, we got the satellite hookup
Hey yeah, we got the frequency
Hey yeah, for all the lone guerilla monitors
Who know what they say and they say what they mean when they say

Pockets of resistance are rising
All around this town
And the old regime is just a clipper capsizing
When we shake 'em down

The man with the sandwich board will tell you to repent 'cause the end is near
But it don't matter none 'til you join the rebellion and open your eyes and ears

Hey yeah, we got the satellite hookup
Hey yeah, we got the frequency
Hey yeah, for all the lone guerilla monitors
Who know what they say and they say what they mean when they say

Pockets of resistance are rising
All around this town
And the old regime is just a clipper capsizing
When we shake 'em down
Track Name: The Low-Low Price
The peach flavor sins are not cash-redeemable
They can't be redeemed for cash
And chasing hundredths of a cent
Isn't gonna pay my rent but might catch me the lash
The lash of a tongue of a shoe on a foot in the door
Oh, Lord

But I'm cuttin' coupons anyway
'Cause coupons are just like Jesus in that they save
And I've been saved, I've been saved for later
I tend to waver

Living large at the low-low price
Like a dollar store savior sacrifice
It's the proto-vice
It's the "yes, dear that's nice"

There's a mail-in rebate on my head
A money-back guarantee is what they said
No money down, no risk involved, no style, no tact, no class
No purchase necessary

Bad credit? No credit? Zero-point-zero APR and a salary to let me rot
To let me rot on just one calorie
From the peanut gallery we're

Living large at the low-low price
Like a dollar store, save your sacrifice
It's the neo-crisis
It's the "yes, dear that's nice"

The peach flavored sins are not cash redeemable
They can't be redeemed for cash
And the customer is always right 'cause they don't know better
And they can't believe it's not butter
And it tastes nothing, it tastes nothing like butter
Awww

Living large at the low-low price
Like a dollar store savior sacrifice
It's the anti-christ
It's the "yes, dear that's nice"

And that's why
It's so nice
'Cause it's the low-low
The low-low
It's the low-low, low-low price
It's the low-low price
It's the low-low price
Buy now
Track Name: Make It Plane
The peasants have called off the wedding
It seems like it’s getting to be
The essence of details upsetting
Of retails indebting the free

Like everything’s gotta be
Exactly as it oughtta be spoken
Trust in the lottery
Soldered on a subway token

They call the waste of an era
The taste of a sterilized passion
For all these immaculate sparrows
The scarecrows and rarified fashions

With everything reduced
To the concentrated juice of a lemon
And the high fructose corn syrup solutions
They are selling

But we can sing, if you want, until the clouds come home
Until Mao Tse Dong throws the game
And if you think it’s a front, or some apodictical farce
Put the Porsche before the cart and make it plane

When they run past you a few forms to fill out
Your victories all will now be pyrrhic
Give us one last kiss before you sell out
We’ll miss you when you spell out generic

‘Cause all we ever wanted
Was a solid gold sonnet on a breakbeat
A little taste of honesty
Pressed into a vinyl worthy of framing

But tell us something we don’t know
The face of a photo of dreams
Embellish, enchant it in totems
In granite, or sowed in the seams

And maybe some day
When the four-tank parade comes assailing
We’ll turn the other way
When we’ll find ourselves engaged
To the one man left standing in the street

And we can sing, if you want, until the clouds come home
Until Mao Tse Dong throws the game
But if you think it’s a front, or some apodictical farce
Put the Porsche before the cart and make it plane

And bling bling bling, if you want, until the crowds blow foam
Until Mao Tse Dong rolls in his grave
But if you think it’s a front, or some apodictical farce
Put the horse-power before the cart and make it plain
Track Name: Power Corrupts
Power corrupts
Power corrupts
Power corrupts
Power corrupts

Thermonuclear subs
Winning ticket stubs
Dowries and prenups
Power corrupts

Ecumenical nuts
Corporate logo cups
Chemical suds
Power corrupts

And with a chance at the big dance
Every fourth ward representative is gonna cut corners
For the pants in the family feud, what'll you do?
Starin' down an offer that you can't refuse
Like cement boots or the stoop of the White House
Flippin' through the news of the nation
Strictly sensation off the cover price
And drug companies, all more marketing than research
All for the product of a billion

Power corrupts
Power corrupts
Power corrupts
Power corrupts
Aww shucks
Track Name: Lotto Prophecy
Just gimme a bromide
Something clever to go buy
Some end-all slogan to be known by
Give me a piece of your own mind
Like some jackpot soundbyte
Some bumper sticker to be quoted like scripture
All around the town

This is lotto prophecy
Swingin' on a hollow policy
Hangin' clever signs on a dollar tree
Is always easier
Than makin' yourself some change

Just gimme a tee shirt
With some repeated phrase
That you can stamp your feet to in and out of phase
Just give me some gratitude
Or some immaculate grudge
And lay it out in platitudes because no one here
Is thinking very much at all

This is lotto prophecy
Swingin' on a hollow policy
Hangin' clever signs on a dollar tree
Is always easier
Than makin' yourself some change

Just gimme a Mastercard
At some astounding rate
And they can purchase your problems and curry your favor
Courrier favor
Buy some bottled oxygen
And the latest postal stamp
And you can purge all of your toxins
Through 150 watts of a broken Marshall amp

This is lotto prophecy
Swingin' on a hollow policy
Hangin' clever signs on a dollar tree
Is always easier
Than askin' yourself to change
Track Name: Break Out The Mashed Potato
Spastic gyrations of a graceless nature
Captivate the nation's hearts and minds
But the point was missed in hyper ballistic variations of the twist
And don't everybody have to know about this
Break out the mashed potato
And check out the PE ratio
The running man claims that he can
Carry this dance floor across the land
And don't everybody have to know about this
Here's the pitch

Liberate the macarena
Prescription white dance, Lorena
Take two bunny hops and a boogaloo
The electric slide will be a guide to you
And don't everybody have to know about this
Tape your wrists

Break out the mashed potato
In vice-presidential dayglo
Well my girl's got a Goodyear halo
And I'm like buttermilk laced with drano
And don't everybody have to know about this
Invite the crips

Break out the mashed potato
Break out the mashed potato
Break out the mashed potato
Track Name: Elements Of Reality
Elements of reality come peckin' through my shell
And make this incubation seem a whole lot less like hell
The timer on the egg is just about to ring the bell
And I'm stuck in this yolk, stuck in this hoax
Stuck in this Plymouth Caravelle and still

I've got the feeling
I've got the feeling
That everything
I've got the feeling
I've got the feeling
That everything

Official documents, stereophonic sex
Kitchen appliances are all just in your head
The Hudson and the Seine
Playdough and Paddington
Cowboys and Indians are all just in your head
Esoteric flaws in the ether tend to surface when
Fireflies in jelly jars and pandas in a pen
Speak of Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenence
But negatives of daffodills are all just in your head and

I've got the feeling
I've got the feeling
That everything
I've got the feeling
I've got the feeling
That everything

Elements of reality come peckin' through my shell
And make this incubation seem a whole lot less like hell
Am I blind to something I should see or blinded by something else
But it's just trading one for the other, and that's what tortures me

I've got the feeling
I've got the feeling
That everything
I've got the feeling
I've got the feeling
That everything matters in the grand scheme of
Everything matters in the grand scheme of
Everything matters in the grand scheme of things
Track Name: Antifolk Is Dead
On the ace of avenues I played my cards
Where the sidewalk meets the street
East on the side as the raven flies
Where you can surf unreality

Where every visionary is a Lach-key kid
And everybody's got a re-run dream
Of being thrown out the door by the folk hardcore
For soundin' like a hillbilly

Where there ain't no stranger to the system
Whether it's heroin or heartbreak
Or workin' til close in fifty shows
In fifty nights in fifty states
And antifolk music is dead
I stood by the foot of the bed and watched it go
No, no, no, I said
Antifolk music is dead
And as soon as it cut the edge I should've known
When there's trouble in the country
And the soil rains down and you're one foot in the grave
And four score lightnings hit the sky
You're bound to drive out of range

When the bad faces come and your lucky number nine
Is going east with the wind
And you don't even want to be a rock star anymore
Grab these words:

Antifolk music is dead
I stood by the foot of the bed and watched it go
No, no, no, I said
Antifolk music is dead
And as soon as it was cutting edge I should've known
Oh, no
So let's all be beautiful and let's all be bulletproof
And as soon as we get back to smoke-filled room
I'll see the setting sun with you
'Cause antifolk music is dead
It floated up to balloon heaven and I watched it go

And antifolk music is dead
I stood by the foot of the bed and watched it go
No, no, no, I said
Antifolk music is dead
And as soon as it was cutting edge I should've known
Track Name: Far As I Can See
Well it ain't much further up around the bend
Swing your partner as you please
She'll be gone before the summer sees the leaves
They disappear like fruit from Mason jars
Sealing wax without a doubt
But stretched between the stars
The stores of a seven-year long drought
And that's as far as I can see
Mercy mercy mercy mercy me

Well here's the very creek where gold was found
Head couple promenade
She'll be gone before the sun can see the shade
They disappear like reapers from the field
Another season never sown
Having closed another deal
The reason all too many flocks have flown
And that's as far as I can see
Mercy mercy mercy mercy me
Track Name: Corned Beef Hash
This canned good had a life span
Waitin' on a lonely shelf
Damage in transit notwithstanding
There's just about a bar code left

All that's left in the fridge is corned beef hash
A side of desperation and a jelly glass
Listen homes, I want you to know
You're not the only one alone
You're not the only one alone

Corned beef hash
Corned beef hash
Corned beef hash

Soldier beans in the cupboard
One heel of Wonder Bread
A chilly wind blows from the frozen foods
And there's a cold tin can wishin' he were dead

And it's corned beef hash
Corned beef hash
Corned beef hash

Listen homes, I want you to know
You're not the only one alone
You're not the only one that's alone
Track Name: Old-Ass Man
I'm feelin' like an old-ass man
And I'm not even twenty-seven
Wonderin' if I've lived enough
Or if I just think too much

But I'm feelin' like an old-ass man
The lone defendent takin' the stand
Testify that life tried to murder me
Committin' myself to perjury

Old-ass man, old-ass man
The tracks don't come to an end
Just because they disappear around the bend

Well I don't believe in death
And there isn't any contest
But I can see in a sense
Where I lost my innocence

And is it too much to ask
To feel like I want it back?
Is it too much to ask
To feel like don't wanna be an

Old-ass man, old-ass man
The tracks don't come to an end
Just because they disappear around the bend
Track Name: Only Prospects To Show
Well this is contraverse perfect
A bonafide sham
But it shoulda been worth it
For every crazy notion I think and therefore I am

Sunny Jack Velvet
On the Honey Smacks scene
Doesn't have to Elvis
To be part of a complete balanced breakfast

And I've only got prospects to show
Like a demolition city projects will never know
And it's time I laid down my weary tune
It's time I laid down my weary tune

Disco Jam Sally
Has never heard
Of Tin Pan Alley
But she's singin' their words verbatim:verbatim

So if everybody knows
About everybody else
Let's get this show started
Whoops and hollers, hells and yells and yes

I've only got prospects to show
Like a demolition city projects will never know
And it's time I laid down my weary tune
It's time I laid down my weary tune

Honest to goodness
It's understated
I've seen the reaper hoodless
And death is highly overrated

And I've only got prospects to show
Like a demolition city projects will never know
And it's time I laid down my weary tune
It's time I laid down my weary tune

I've got an aerosol can of soul
Out bombin' on the ozone
Openin' up a hole to rain down on me
Track Name: Wisdom Of Misfits
Tin soldiers are frozen in the heave of grenades
Politicians are chosen by the genuine smile on their faces
And war trophy bouillabases
And in the thick of a mischief, the clock has a hundred hands
And the ancient wisdom of misfits can't tell you any better than I can
Like a war plan written in shorthand

Selah, selah

Crack a bottle of bogus and take a swig of defeat
Try to act like you know this and check the yes box if you like me
Even if you think it's unlikely
And when the ballots are counted and all the ballads composed
And all the trumpets are sounded, we can just agree they were chosen
Like a love note written in Morse Code

Selah, selah

And in the thick of a mischief, the clock has a hundred hands
And the ancient wisdom of misfits can't tell you any better than I can