Here is the sheet music for voice!
Here is the sheet music for voice with optional keyboard accompaniment!
Monthly Archives: April 2011
I’m Quitting the Music Business (Lyrics)
I’m Quitting the Music Business
Album art by Sam Guzik.
All tracks written, arranged, recorded, mixed, engineered, produced, mastered, and performed completely by Jonah Rank unless indicated otherwise. © 2011 Rank Records.
1. I’m Quitting the Music Business (An Introduction)
2. Rock & Roll Or the Rabbinate
Lead guitar performed and improvised by Andrés Wilson.
Everything else by Jonah Rank.
I was born a Jewboy and a preacher man’s son.
I had music in my hands and frontlets above my eyes.
They’ve been asking me if I will follow in my daddy’s footsteps
Ever since the day when I was circumcised.
Everybody watched me grow,
They’d say “Whatcha wanna do?” I’d say “Idunno.”
So people’d call, say, “Beware,” then “you’re bound to fall.”
But, I’d snap on a guitar strap ‘neath my prayer shawl.
It was always my habit,
At the black end of the Sabbath,
I’d listen to a guitar solo and get to tabbin’ it
I was your typical boy who rocks out
Waving his arms with his bagels and lox out,
So it was either rock & roll or the rabbinate.
I believe in rock and roll but Idunno if music can save me,
Yet I’m happy to jam and rock though I’m a skeptic.
Yes, you and I can duel and play sweet tasty solos,
But it won’t be better than my gramma’s recipe for kreplach.
Girl, you know we’ll get it right
When it comes this Friday night:
Girl, you’re going to light my fire—
You can wear modest attire.
You bet that after I’m rocked
By Lewandowsky and Carlebach
I’ll take cream cheese out for bagels and start stabbin’ it.
I met a girl who sang the blues
And asked her which one she would choose
If it were either rock & roll or the rabbinate.
Suffice it to say, she said rock & roll.
And then she told me not to interrupt her songs anymore when she’s on the stage.
Imagine some hard days or nights
When I’m working like a dog
Doing some strange cultic rites
Right at my own synagogue.
If that’s the way the money flows,
Then c’est la vie; that’s how life goes.
But I heard Neil Young sing about
Rocking in a world that’s free
If the world is free, then without a doubt
The salary of rock & roll’s all right by me.
But I can’t get no satisfaction
When starvation’s a distraction.
But all economics aside,
I know that I must decide.
When the Greene-Horne of opportunity comes, I’ll be grabbin’ it.
Whether it’s Ozzy Osbourne eating bats
Or kneidlach cooked by Mrs. Katz,
It’s either rock & roll or the rabbinate.
I’ll rock your ears like a cradle.
Then we all can play dreidel.
It’s either rock & roll or the rabbinate.
Cucucachu, Mrs. Robinson,
Have you met the rebbetzin?
It’s either rock & roll or the rabbinate.
I’ll always be the King of Pain,
And you can be my Queen of Chrain,
It’s either rock & roll or the rabbinate.
It’s always rock & roll.
It’s only rock & roll.
It’s either rock & roll or the rabbinate.
3. The Debate Over the Most Important Meal
4. Meals Are the Most Important Food Of the Day
A child sits under a table and dreams
Of a world full of sweet-tooth chocolate creams.
She opens her troubled eyes and looks back.
Now she’s determined to eat a small snack.
She fills up a colorful plate of mass-produced foods
Designed to stimulate hyperactive moods.
She’s energized now and she thinks that’s okay,
But meals are the most important food of the day.
Breakfast gets you up, and lunch and dinner keep you going.
Drinks keep you hydrated, and protein keeps you growing.
Carbs and sugars do other stuff too.
And if you vary what you eat, supposedly that’s good for you.
But clump your foods together; don’t just eat here and there
‘Cause when you eat sparse foods intermittently, satisfaction is rare.
Yes, your stomach may growl and your intestines may bray
‘Cause Meals are the most important food of the day.
All kinds of people eat snacks all the time.
The occasional snack is no civil crime.
But when the Surgeon General speaks, you’re gonna hear him say,
“Meals are the most important…
They are the most important…
Meals are the most important…
Food of the day.”
Don’t cut corners; you can’t get away (from the fact that)
Meals are the important food of the day.
Don’t just have a bite; go fill up a tray.
Meals are the important food of the day.
You better eat a full meal when you start an entrée.
Meals are the important food of the day.
Whether you’re from Brooklyn or you’re from Bombay,
Meals are the important food of the day.
Don’t give dessert too much credit. Meals are here to stay.
Meals are the important food of the day.
You can ask Dr. Phil, Dr. Ruth, or Dr. Dre.
Meals are the important food of the day.
5. Romance Is Easier In Spanish
6. Tú Eres Mi Especial Hamburguesita
Spanish proofread by Jael Goldstein.
Everything else by Jonah Rank.
Muchas personas no te exaltan.
Pero, hay una planeta que la puedes salvar.
Ellos no pueden comprender tu potenciál.
Pero, cuando yo te miro, yo necesito salivar.
Tú eres mi especial hamburguesita.
Tú eres guapa y muy bonita.
En mis ojos y mi vida, tu eres gloriosita.
Tú eres mi especial hamburgesita.
Cuando yo no estoy contigo,
No puedo imaginar mi vida sin ti ni hoy ni mañana
Y también deseo matar a todos
Y quiero destruir cada tomate y manzana.
Tú eres mi especial hamburguesita.
Tú eres lo mejor cuando estás con una pita.
Te comeré con una papa frita.
Tú eres mi especial hamburgesita.
Yo no podría vivir si no comiera carne
Hay muchas cosas fantasticas que puedes darme.
Yo me moriría si fuera vegeteriano.
Estoy contento cuando te agarro en mi mano.
Tú eres mi especial hamburguesita.
Tú inspiras a cada persona a hacerse gordita.
Sorbo los vientos por ti una poquita.
Tú eres mi especial hamburguesita.
7. A Love Tainted By Xenophobia
8. Café Ana
Jonah Rank thinks that he might have written it with Jim Morrison of The Doors, but it’s unlikely. Everything else is by Jonah Rank.
Analuísa serves everyday
Coffee that’s brown in a mug that’s gray.
She asks me “Con leche?” And I say, “Okay,”
‘Cause I don’t know what that means or what I’m supposed to say.
I don’t believe in Café Ana.
I don’t believe.
I cannot speak in Café Ana.
I cannot speak.
Analuísa works the whole shop.
When I ask her for coffee, I just ask for a drop,
But she keeps on pouring when I tell her to stop.
But I always give my excess coffee to the nearest cop.
I don’t believe in Café Ana.
I don’t believe.
My cup overflows in Café Ana.
My cup overflows.
Analuísa never drinks her own drinks.
I see the other customers, and we exchange winks.
We all know just what Analuísa thinks,
But she won’t admit that her coffee stinks.
I don’t believe in Café Ana.
I don’t believe.
I don’t buy into Café Ana.
I don’t buy into it.
I’m lactose-intolerant at Café Ana.
I would never order milk.
I don’t support Café Ana
Except I give it cash.
I don’t believe in Café Ana.
I don’t believe.
9. Solving the ABBA Problem
10. Mr. Krant (Do You Remember the 70s?)
Shoving nachos into your mouth
As The Chosen sits upon your couch,
You watch the Taco Bell Chihuahua
On a TV set you bought in Walla-Walla,
And I interrupt, Michael.
I say, “Mr. Krant, do you remember the 70s
The way that I do?
I was in a band named ‘JMJM,’ named for
Jonah (me), Mike, Jessie and Michal,
Kind of like how ABBA was named for
Anni-frid, Björn, Benny and Agnetha—
Though we came first, and we had also been Swedish.
And I wrote all of JMJM’s songs,
Which we kindly donated to Benny and Björn.
Though they used all of the songs we gave them
And turned them into smash hits,
There was one song about genetic testing, which they rejected.
Björn and Benny laughed and said
That the song sounded like a bad story for a musical.
Many years later, Catherine Johnson took the song about genetic testing
And turned it into a musical,
Except she used the rest of ABBA’s songs except for that one,
And it seems she didn’t realize the point of the genetic testing
Was to determine who the father of the story’s
Main character is.
But, Mr. Krant, do you remember the 70s
The way that I do?”
You stare blankly at the screen.
You shrug your shoulders, and then you say, “No.”
And then when the commercial ends, you look at me and say,
“This doesn’t even sound like a true story.”
11. Genetic Test (The Missing ABBA Song)
Performed by JMJM—Mike Klein: bass, guitar and background vocals; Michal Mechlovitz: lead vocals; Jonah Rank: drums, keyboards; Jessie Winkler on background vocals.
Mixed and engineered by Mike Klein and Jonah Rank.
Everything else by Jonah Rank.
When my momma Donna had me, she raised me alone—didn’t even have uncles or aunts.
My closest thing to family were the Dynamos: Tanya and Rosie, who wore tight pants.
My momma Donna sang with them a very long time ago–I would say about twenty years.
Since then though she hasn’t done much but sing ABBA songs and be negligent, rich, and drunk on beers.
The real plot began though when I found my momma’s diary and I read just a bit of it.
I shared it with Lisa and Ali, my two only friends; they agreed it says I’m illegitimate.
On July 17th or August 4th I was conceived—or maybe even August 15th
Because Harry Bright, Bill Austin, and Sam Carmichael “dot dot dot…”—whatever that means.
I know I’ve got no brother,
Zero sisters, and one mother.
But now I want to know the rest.
I’ll give my blood, my skin, my hair or even amniotic fluid
Or any other tissue that will do it
And tell me who’s my daddy through a genetic test.
This might not seem to you like much cause for commotion, but, you see, I kinda wanna marry this guy.
I don’t know what his last name is cuz he lacks personality, but I know his first name is Sky.
In fact, my potential fathers (Harry, Bill and Sam) are the only people with last names I know.
It’s not my fault though that no one has last names mentioned; just, Catherine left them out of the show.
So, the peak of conflict comes when I invite my potential dads to my wedding.
But at their arrivals, they each suspect they are my dad cuz back then, they were getting real high, I’m betting.
Yet I find their stupid stupors aggravating cuz I want my dad to give me away as a bride.
There’s no conflict resolution: We all just get confused, and no one’s left with any secrets to hide.
I know I’ve got no brother,
Zero sisters, and one mother.
But now I want to know the rest.
It’s more than trust or love this woman needs
And more than English-language pop songs sung by Swedes
As I find out my dad through a genetic test.
I know I’ve got no brother,
Zero sisters, and one mother.
But now I want to know the rest.
If this confusion means my wedding just won’t be fun,
Let’s call off the wedding and ask for a refund
Cuz I need money, money, money for a genetic test.
12. In Memory of Spencer Maier (The Beginning of an Intermedio)
13. Memories of Adventures With Spencer Movement 1
14. Memories of Adventures With Spencer Movement 2
15. Memories of Adventures With Spencer Movement 3
16. Are Angels Real?
17. Angels Come
Violins performed by Jonathan Bloomfield. Everything else by Jonah Rank.
Chorus:
Angels come.
Angels go.
They’ve got some purpose
That they barely know.
Angels don’t
See their wings.
They just fly away onto
Better things.
I pray to God
That I’m not an angel.
I pray to God
That she’s not one too.
The spirits of angels never
Really die away.
But I want to say to her,
“I want to be alive through you.”
Chorus
I’m in love with,
And in fear of, an angel.
I’m very scared that she’ll
Fly away.
I want to know
If she is an angel, or if
She’s of the mold who’s
Here to stay.
Chorus
I found a small, little place where
I met an angel.
The angel hurt me,
Said some kind words and left.
I had no clue though
That that was an angel.
My heart is empty now,
And my soul is bereft.
Chorus
Angels come.
Angels go.
They’ve got some purpose
That they barely know.
Angels are
Who they’re sent here to be.
They’re not meant to
Stay with me.
18. An Inspiration From John Cage (The End of an Intermedio)
19. The Complete Anthology of Words Pronounced Better By Scots Than By [Other] Brits
20. Sympathizing With the Differences
21. The Agony of Being a Roommate
I know it’s hard for you to remember
To flush the toilet after you’ve gone.
I know how hard it is for you to keep the apartment safe
By not leaving every heating appliance on.
They say that living alone is hard,
But I say living with a roommate is harder.
They say you’ve got to play the right cards,
And sometimes we just wish we were smarter.
Chorus:
Don’t feel bad, roomie. I’m not mad, roomie.
We can start all over again. It’s not too late.
I hope you realize that I can sympathize.
I also know the agony of being a roommate.
I know it’s hard for you to keep in mind
That things are better when you pay your rent.
I know how hard it is for you to keep your brain cells working
While blasting at full volume each NetFlix DVD you’re sent.
They say that living with a roommate is bad,
But I think that it gets better
Because you stopped passing out drunk on my bed,
And I’m very glad about that since you’re a bedwetter.
Chorus
I won’t judge you harshly for:
The chips you left out on the floor;
The toothpaste on the mirror;
The fact you never lock the door;
Singing Metallica songs at midnight
And children songs just before dawn;
The literally random girls you bring home
And fume-inducing drugs you’re on;
When you the break the bathroom door open
As I’m inside and pleading you not to enter;
And that, when you imagine the universe,
You’re convinced you’re in the center;
You can’t figure out how to work the vacuum
And you struggle with a broom;
You’re keeping up a decrepit life,
And you keep a decrepit room.
I know it’s hard to keep in the back of your mind
Not to leave unidentifiable fluids on the chairs.
I know how hard it is for you to stop yourself
From pushing my guests down several flights of stairs.
They say it takes one to get to know one,
But I, for one, can’t figure you out.
Why did you smash my laptop with your microwave,
And—when you set my suits on fire—what was that all about?
Chorus
Have no fear, roomie. You’ll stay here, roomie,
Until I tell Craigslist I need a new roommate.
22. Using Computers and MIDI
23. Mac ‘N’ Keys
I figured I’d record this song in the studio,
But there weren’t any drums.
How can I make a hip-hop hit or a pop song
Without any drums?
When I realized that my lack of a drumset
Wasn’t an uncommon situation,
I gave in and turned on the UltraBeat Drum Machine
Out of common desperation.
Then it seemed the only chords I could play
Were the tonic, sub-mediant, subdominant, and dominant.
Though that progression has been featured in other songs,
I figure it still has the right to be prominent.
After all, after all is said and done:
This music I’m making is hardly amazing; it’s just mildy fun.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
With a MIDI synthesizer, I appear just that much wiser.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
I don’t need to play the bass to play a bass in your face.
So, when I found out that my cowbell orchestra was running late;
I fired them, found a percussion patch, and attempted to replicate.
And then I thought:
Why did I need a cowbell orchestra in this song?
I’m not sure that it would work.
So, I turned it off.
I saw John Williams on the New York subway train,
So I hummed the theme from Jaws.
I tried to articulate to him my love for him
In an independent clause.
And then I asked Mr. Williams if I could borrow
The London Symphony Orchestra’s first-chair flautist.
But I couldn’t make out his response because, of all the sounds on the train,
The mariachi band was the loudest.
See, I could have found a musician, and our personalities might not have clicked.
But, I get by anti-socially relying on my digital tricks.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
Got my Apple and my keyboard; now there’s nothing left that I can afford.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
I broke up with my band because I don’t need a hand.
When I found out that my glockenspiel player died,
I sat in a corner, and I nearly cried.
But I looked around, and then I found
A sufficiently similar sound.
Do you like my glockenspiel?
I want to thank the pirates on the Internet
For giving me these Plug-ins for free.
But, baby, you ain’t heard nothing (original) yet.
But at least the songs I program are superior to me.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
Can you hear me rock-n-rollin’ with my RAM and my Roland?
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
I use my Kurzweil in mainstream style.
I wonder how long it’s gonna be before we agree that musicians are extinct.
After all, it’s been a while since I’ve heard a hit song that was relatively distinct.
Maybe you can be my witness
As we slaughter the music business.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
Virtuosity is minimal when the musicians are all digital.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys,
Keeping people out of work with my Moog and my Korg.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
Place a sound on a plate, and make it reverberate!
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
I thank Gosh for my Macintosh.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
I thank Gosh for my Macintosh.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
24. Looking Somewhere Else
25. A Variant On the Masoretic Text (The Song That, For Scholars of Biblical Criticism, Is Emotionally Affective)
You say you’re not looking for my very best.
And I can tell by an apophatic hermeneutical principle that you’re looking for whatever comes next.
If I properly comprehend both you and the Maimonidean Guide for the Perplexed,
You’re looking for a version of me other than the Masoretic text.
I recently heard you tell me that same exact story,
But the first time it was clean, and the second time gory.
And the first time you told it there were numbers involved,
And, the second time you told it, I didn’t like the way it was resolved.
Chorus:
Sometimes when I think you say “E,”
It turns out that you really said, “P.”
And then you say words heretofore never heard
Just like when Josiah discovered D.
Come on, now. Let’s take out the BHS.
You’re looking for a version of me other than the Masoretic text.
Different witnesses I know comment on you in different ways.
And whenever they try to quote you, it seems more like a paraphrase.
So, when I try to—the text here is corrupt—
I guess I’ll just never know what you—the Leningrad codex says “said,” and the Aleppo codex reads, “intended to say.”
Chorus
Do you think that I can change?
I was made this way.
Chorus
Come on, come on, come on, come on. Don’t touch me! I’m a rare manuscript!
Come on, now! Let’s go to the Rare Book Room of JTS.
You’re looking for a version of me other than the Masoretic text.
26. Introducing a Legend To You
27. Tani Cohen
Tani was a cowboy who took me bowlin’
In an ice arena with a hockey team,
And some said he was actually Canadian,
But he just said he wanted to follow his dreams.
So, we packed our bags and left the USA,
Headed straight to the USSR.
And we met with Bismarck with Bismarck who put us on hold
As he made a deal with Goethe to sell him his car
Tani would do anything for Prussia,
He said, “I’ll even conquer Belgium and Scotland for you.
As long as long as you don’t ask about Mumbai or France
Cuz they’ve got their own missions that they want me to do—cuz I’m Tani… (Cohen)…”
So, he put some jeans on over his overalls
And wore his lucky scuba goggles with his lucky jet pack.
Genghis Khan wrote him a letter from Khazar,
Saying, “I’ve got Swiss chocolate if you ever get back.”
Tani danced all night to the blues.
Then he blew a sax solo and picked up the flute.
He said “I’m not a betting men, but let’s play poker
‘Cuz I’ve got the King and Queen and Ace of every suit—cuz I’m Tani… (Cohen)…”
He put away the machete and got in the van.
He was never so relieved to be relaxed before.
All his years in Nam and studying law
Flat out went to waste when he cleaned up the store.
He said, “I’ll never do this again.
I really don’t think the convent’s for me.
I can’t confine myself to any piloting school,
And I’m a free mason so I’ve gotta be free—cuz I’m Tani… (Cohen)…”
He officially resigned then from his post at the madrasa
And moved back to San Diego, near Hollywood.
He wrote to George Lucas about a thought he had,
And it had a bigger impact than we thought that it would.
And they made a movie of Tani’s autobiography,
But Tani’s stunt double wrote it entirely,
And he moved into the Qatar Embassy.
He was unemployed, but he said, “I bet they’ll hire me—cuz I’m Tani (Cohen)…”
When Tani was released from jail the next day,
Quentin Tarantino’s film was finally released.
They added musical numbers just to keep it upbeat.
It was the #1 film in the Middle East.
But, Tani Cohen wasn’t well received in Spain.
They’d mistranslated the title and the opening line.
So, Tani said, “Now, I’ve had it with this world;
There’ll never be another contract I’m gonna sign—‘cuz I’m Tani… (Cohen)…”
28. Trying Again With a Pineapple
29. Pineapple Part 2 (This One’s Got Music and Words)
Drums improvised by Alan Silverman
Everything else by Jonah Rank
Hey, somebody come, and eat me please.
I’d be down on my knees
If I only had knees,
But I don’t have knees,
And neither do kiwis or grapefruit,
And neither do grapes or chocolate,
And neither do carrots or cornflakes,
And neither do typical foods that vegans eat
Unless they’re genetically engineered
Or something really weird
Like that,
In which case the food might wear nametags
And a mustache and a hat,
But I’m a pineapple.
I am a Pineapple.
And I am tropical.
And I am topical.
You know, I just can’t breathe so well
Not even puffers do the trick.
And I can’t do any damage to my lungs,
But I still refuse to smoke
Because it’s bad for the environment—
Because I’m not sure also that…
I’m not sure whether or not I’m capable
Of lighting a match or possessing thumbs that really are opposable.
I can’t say that I feel too strongly either way
About whether or not smoking is okay
Because usually pineapples don’t even vote
Because they don’t even have a brain.
And part of the problem is that I don’t feel
Anything at all today.
And I can never feel anything
Because my senses are limited.
Cuz I’m a pineapple.
I am a pineapple.
And I am tropical.
And I am topical.
And I’m going to be here
All week long.
But you might want to eat me soon,
Or else I might start rotting,
But I’m not going surfing.
Here’s to you, Allison Adges…
Ah-hoo!
Pineapples of London…
Oh…
People often ask me, do I have superpowers,
And I say, “No! What do you think? I mean,
I’m a pineapple:
I have no cape,
And I have no secret identity,
And there aren’t even changing booths anymore.
And the last superhero movie that I saw
Made me want to quit my dayjob
Because I had formerly been a superhero.
And no one here is in clear and present danger
Not these days anyway—
At least not when they see that I’m just a pineapple
Nobody cares.
Nobody cares.
Won’t somebody eat me please?
I’m down on my metaphorical knees.
Cuz I’m a pineapple.
I’m just a pineapple.
Cuz I’m a pineapple.
30. Flying To the Next Adventure (And Thanks)
Thanks:
I’d like to thank all family, friends, teachers, and everyone whose lives have influenced mine. I’d like to thank everyone who was thanked in the liner-notes of my two previous CDs: Loud and Dumb and Your Favorite Album, and I’d additionally like to thank everybody who collaborated with me on the creation of this album as well as the following people who did not directly work on this album: Abby Bernstein, Adina Bernstein, Adina Rosen, Aharon Varady, Allison Davis, Allison Poirier, Andre Rivie, Alisha Kaplan, Ariana Tobias, Ariella Epel, Ariella Rosen, Asia Mei, Ben Folds, Ben Herman, Brad Garton, C.J. Glass, Candace Tabbs, Chava Creque, Dan di Paolo, Dan Iglesia, Dana Kline, Daniel Chorny, Davey Rosen, David Irwin, Derrick Ashong, Dov Fields, Eliana Kissner, Ellen Gray, Ellie Hisama, Emily Watkins, Erica Dashow, Etta Abramson, Eva Gonzalez-Ruskiewicz, Frani Goodman, Gabriella Spitzer, Geoffrey Holbrook, Hanabiell Sanders, Ishmael Osekre, Jacob Taber, Jeffrey Milarsky, Jill Shapiro, Joel Chorny, John Szwed, John Teal, Jonathan Hack, Joseph Patterson, Josh Dickinson, Josh Warshawsky, Katy Beehler, Kristin Young, Lauren Tuchman, Lee Epstein, Leora Perkins, Lorene Bouboushian, Lydia Walker, Ma’ayan Bar-Yam, Marlon Feld, Maria Carson, Marina Evans, Mary Blahovec, Masha Mitlina, Matt Klein, Matthew Hass, the Maier family, Mia Simring, Micah Shilcrat, Michael Krant, Michal Richardson, Mike McKeever, Mitzi Steiner, Myq Kaplan, Nara Garber, Nichole Chorny, Nina Kretzmer, Pat Zimmerli, Peter Himmelman, Phillip Askew, Rachel Dudley-slash-Zerin—whatever her name is, Rachel Goldstein, Rami Schwartzer, Richard Braverman, Robert Somerville, Roni Tabick, Sam Shuman, Sam Zerin, Sammie Schwab, Sandy Perry Sequoya Johnston, Sara Bareilles, Sarah Myerson, Sarah Taber, Sarit Horwitz, Sean Hallowell, Shao-Wen Ang, Shoshi Tabick, Shuli Passow, Simon Dick, Simeon Cohen, Stanley Ely, Tani Cohen, Terry Pender, Thomas Slanover, Tzafrir Barzilay, Veronica Booz, Yakov Hadash, Yoni Stadlin, Zach Cohen, all my peers in grad school, everybody whom I got to know through working for Brandeis University’s Office of High School for the summer of 2010, and everybody whom I should have thanked but neglected to thank so far: for those of ya’ll in the last category, I’ll try and thank you next time.
31. Tonight I’ll Be Flyin’
Well, I’m sittin’ in the airport,
And I hear music overhead.
There’s a country song about travelin’
And a song for someone’s friend.
I can hear the cries of babies
And the innocent laughs of kids.
But in my head there’s playin’
A sweet song that goes like this:
Chorus:
Tonight I’ll be flyin’
At nauseatin’ heights.
Tonight I’ll be on an airplane,
And I might vomit each time we turn.
Tonight I’ll be reflectin’
On the notion of the afterlife.
Tonight I’ll be hopin’
That my plane don’t crash and burn. (Crash and burn.)
Tonight, I hope my plane don’t crash and burn.
Just 25 minutes ago,
I was standin’ in a line,
Which, according to geometry,
Has two ends that are undefined,
And it was true in the case of security here
Cuz I stood there for all time,
And, as I removed electronics and shoes,
I sang that age-old rhyme:
Chorus
So whether you’re a terrorist
Or a simple folk like me,
We deal with erratic people
And all those laws of gravity.
All it takes is one glitch in the system
And that can happen soon.
So let’s hold hands and dance and smile
And sing that sacred tune:
Chorus
Your Favorite Album (notes)
All songs mixed, recorded, improvised, composed and produced by Jonah Rank in 2007.
Copyright protected by Jonah Rank: 2007.
1. Mount Sermon
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: organ
2. East Carolina On the West
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: banjo
3. The Electric Couch
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: bass guitar
4. Dental Breakdown
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: drums, percussion
5. No Hindsight In Reach (No Lessons Taught)
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: violin
6. Blue and Green (No Time)
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: chromonica
7. Ancient Near Eastern Holiday Blues
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: shofar
8. The Electric Fuzzy Couch
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: bass guitar
9. Yeah Yeah Yeah (Rock)
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: drums, percussion
10. Scenes From a First Grade Classroom
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: wooden recorder-thing #1
11. Scenes From a Second Grade Classroom
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: wooden recorder-thing #2
12. Scenes From a Third Grade Classroom
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: wooden recorder-thing #3
13. Scenes From a Fourth Grade Classroom
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: wooden recorder-thing #4
14. 17th Century Blues
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: violin
15. Still Lost
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: guitar
16. Getting an F On a Breath Alcohol Test
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: trumpet
17. On the New Paint
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: guitar
18. Beyond Green Hills
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: piano
Loud and Dumb (lyrics)
All songs mixed and produced by Jonah Rank in the latter half of 2005.
Copyright protected by Jonah Rank: 2005.
1. Handles
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: piano
2. Stop the Presses (It’s Britney Spears)
Music and Lyrics by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: piano, bass, drums, percussion, vocals
There were major headlines in the news today.
It turns out that Britney Spears is breathing still.
I was thinking for a minute that she wasn’t okay.
We all had our hopes up. It seems we forever will.
They’ve been suspecting for a while that there’s something up her sleeve.
And people said jokingly, she simply has arms.
They had photos of everything so that we’d believe.
So, the media exposed all of her body parts.
Stop the presses! It’s Britney Spears!
She’s been educating our country for so many years.
She’s taught us it doesn’t matter what you wear
Because whenever she gets dressed, it’s like there’s nothing there.
She wants to make a bright future for our nation.
She wants to be a role model for little kids.
She wants girls to think about moral valuation.
She smokes, she drinks, she curses, and she practically strips.
Stop the presses! It’s Britney Spears!
She’s been helping out our country for so many years.
She’s shown us how to live as a happy singer.
If she sees her fans, she’ll give the middle finger.
Britney Spears wants to help out the world.
So, she’s kissed Madonna and has been photoed basically nude.
Through CDs, she makes millions from perverted boys and girls.
She buys cars and houses and ignores starving kids who need food.
Stop the presses! It’s Britney Spears!
She’s been robbing our country for so many years that
She could purchase Ben Affleck and Richard Gere
And still buy something twice the price of J. Lo’s rear.
She teaches kids it’s okay for women to be slaves.
She’s basically encouraged that women be abused.
Her philosophies are complex, whatever she’s trying to say.
She’s not a girl, nor woman; just a human who’s confused.
Stop the presses! It’s Britney Spears!
She’s been messing up our country for so many years.
She’s been to the Grammies and acts like she holds some world title.
But I highly doubt she’d make it on American Idol.
Stop the presses! It’s Britney Spears!
She’s been destroying our country for so many years.
She cannot sing on key, but she thinks that that’s okay because
She’s spent her life believing computers make her sound great.
Stop the presses! It’s Britney Spears!
She’s been demolishing our country for so many years.
She lip synchs through her concerts thanks to pre-recorded tapes
When she tries, she can’t hit high notes hit by Justin Timberlake.
3. Living Life Differently
Music and lyrics by Jonah Rank
Al Hoberman: bass, acoustic guitar
Jonah Rank: organ, electric guitar, vocals
He was sitting all alone in the dark underneath a tree.
He wanted to tell someone something, and I think he intended me.
He was trying to find out how to find value in that which he could place his pride.
He’s been living life differently since she died.
Her sister saw the media’s brutality beat her sentimentality, staying outside her house for days.
She saw the tangible past cast an amnesia spell that fell upon her and her family enduring during its extensive phase.
She saw reporters torture her and false friends pretend that they’d befriended her but really add to the reasons she cried.
She’s been living life differently since she died.
He sees it’s the efficiency of the difference he intends to send that matters in the end.
He knows that life must be lived, so he tries to give help to anything that he knows that he can mend.
He likes relating through sound playing for kids, extricating kids from disabled situations they’re in, and he can’t hide
That he’s been living life differently since she died.
Her sister hates the papers and the fakers and the makers of the fabricated facts.
She now must battle with the matters of the manners of the subjects of the impacts.
She stays on, breaks on, wakes on, and takes on her hobbies her sister tried.
She’s been living life differently since she died.
He loves the proof of youth through the truth in purity’s security that he can find.
He can’t conceive or perceive or believe he’d been deceived and lived for so long being so blind.
He wants to make the most of all the consequences implied.
He’s been living life differently since she died.
Her sister’s emotions in commotion, like her heart in an ocean, were floating away.
She hates how humans are misconstrued and abused and just used for another headline and story in Newsday.
She weaves, heaves, breathes, and sees life from a new side.
She’s been living life differently since she died.
He now aspires, desires, and requires to be like her and live a life that’s full of a soul.
She looks through books with lists of what her sister missed, believing she’s relieving and achieving her own and her sister’s goal.
They get on with their own lives and decide to conclude and include the attitude that’s gone as their guide.
They’ve been living life differently since she died.
4. Pineapple
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: piano, electric piano, organ, guitars, bass, drums, percussion
5. Stand Alone
Music and lyrics by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: piano, guitars, bass, drums, percussion, vocals
When she and I walked together today,
I suddenly felt pushed aside.
She’d been trying to dig out what she wanted me to say,
But it somehow stayed inside.
I thought that she was me
Right down to every bone.
But, now I think I see
I’ll have to stand alone.
When she and I talked to each other today,
I thought she’d see what I’ve realized.
But, she had gone a separate way,
And she believed some of society’s lies.
It often seems peculiar
To believe against a throne.
But it does seem quite familiar
To know to stand alone.
When she and I sulked together today,
I was sad to see her cry.
She said she didn’t know where our futures lay,
And it made me wonder why.
Now I have to understand
How to understand my clone.
Though, I don’t know where I stand,
I often stand alone.
Though it might be by the bay,
Or it might be on the phone,
I’m still waiting for the day when she and I
Will together stand alone.
6. Accordions Hurt
Music and lyrics by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: accordion, guitars, bass, drums, triangle, percussion, vocals
There was a man who wore a frown
Everything that happened would bring him down.
He was a masochistic man who tried to hurt his spine.
He surpassed the preliminary wearing of a “Kick me” sign.
He often dreamed of suicide.
But he knew that he deserved to live, so he never tried.
He’d go wrong with a knife, and he’d go wrong with a gun.
In the end, he chose to hurt himself with an accordion.
He walked in the cold, and he walked in the heat.
He watched drivers stare at him and heard cars beep.
He felt vulnerable just crossing the street.
Life threats came from the drivers in each van and in each jeep.
Accordions hurt a lot more than you’d think.
They make your spine feel pain and make your reputation stink.
They make your hands feel tight and make your ego shrink.
Accordions hurt a lot more than you’d think.
He had some friends whom he had lost.
Circles moved away from him when there were lines he’d crossed.
His attempts at a social life would always fail
When people heard his accordion wail.
He was scrutinized like a specimen from a foreign land.
He was slandered and gravely given bad raps.
He was banned from socialization, just like he’d planned.
People looked away when they saw his keys suspended by straps.
Accordions hurt a lot more than you’d think.
They make your spine feel pain and make your reputation stink.
They make your hands feel tight and make your ego shrink.
Accordions hurt a lot more than you’d think.
If you ever want to be alone,
If you ever want to have nobody near you,
If you ever want to be notoriously known,
Take out an accordion, and let everybody hear you.
He made the most annoying sounds anybody’s ever heard.
He made a repetitive vibration of some Polish polished chords.
He made himself out to be the biggest nerd.
He could have made himself the victim of daggers and swords.
Accordions hurt a lot more than you’d think.
They make your spine feel pain and make your reputation stink.
They make your hands feel tight and make your ego shrink.
Accordions hurt a lot more than you’d think.
7. Spirit and Relief
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: piano
8. Und Alle Das Jazz
Music by John Kander
Original lyrics by Fred Ebb
Lyrics translated by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: piano, bass, drums, vocals
Komm mein schätzchen.
Werden anstreichen die Stadt
Und alle das Jazz!
Ich werde röten meine Knien
Und werde absenken meine Kniestrümpfe
Und alle das Jazz!
In Gang setz das Auto
Ich kenne ein wupie platz
Wo das Bier ist kalt,
Und das Klavier ist warm.
Es nur ist ein laut Saal
Mit einer nächtlich Schlägerei
Und alle das Jazz!
Glätt dein Haar.
Deine Schuhschnalle hab an
Und alle das Jazz!
Ich ihrfahre dass Vater Dip
Werde blasen den Blues
Und alle das Jazz!
Halt fest, Liebling!
Werde umarmen!
Ich kaufte ein Aspirin
In Anschluss Rauschgift.
Falls du auseinanderbrichst dich
Und willst einen nagelneu Beginn
Und alle das Jazz!
Ach! Ich werde bezeugen mein schieba schimmie erschüttert. (UND ALLE DAS JAZZ!)
Ach! Sie wird flattern bis ihr Strumpfband wird auseinanderbrechen.
Weis auf ihr wo sie kann parken ihren Gürtel.
Ach! Das Blut von ihrer Mutter wird gerinnen
Wenn sie erfährt dass ihr Baby ist komisch für
Alle das Jazz!
Find auf eine Flasche.
Wir spielen schnell und lose und alle das Jazz.
Hier ist vo ich beibehalte den Saft Und alle das Jazz!
Komm mein Schätzchen.
Wir werden bürsten den Himmel.
Ich wette dass Glücklich Grettel
Nie flöge so hoch.
Denn in der Stratosphäre,
Wie sie kann anbieten ein Gehör zu
Alle das Jazz?
Nein, ich bin die Frau von keiner.
Doch, ich liebe meine leben
Und alle das Jazz!
DAS JAZZ!
9. As If The New York Times Were the Gospel Truth
Music and lyrics by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: piano, bass, guitar, drums, percussion, vocals
“All the news that’s fit to print”,
Reads a little line in whose direction you can glint.
But, it’s just another medium for corruption to go through.
If you read it and believe it, there’ll be more people whom you can subdue.
You can construe its liberal view and
Read it askew as it wants you to.
Its slate’s not new, and it continues to accrue.
Though it’s socially taboo, you can bid it adieu.
And even though you should know anyone can advertise lies in a newspaper booth,
It seems like everyone’s reacting as if The New York Times were the gospel truth.
You can read about something happening in Hong Kong.
They can come on strong. You can read along.
The article might be long and from a ravishing prong.
And for all you know, the news is all wrong.
And even though you should know that propaganda in the media is hardly uncouth,
It seems like everyone’s reacting as if The New York Times were the gospel truth.
With Republicans and Democrats being spoken of like races,
Newspapers erase personalities and faces,
And red and blue take away inner conflict from places.
All papers find reality which disillusionment replaces.
And even though you should know the word can be wrong from Ellis Island to Duluth,
It seems like everyone’s reacting as if The New York Times were the gospel truth.
They can take religion’s rectitude and redefine sin.
They can slip in subliminal stereotypes and characterize kin.
They can take a photo and put the wrong caption in.
And it’s even happened front page much to The New York Times’ chagrin.
And even though you should know that inaccuracy can result from a writer’s vermouth,
It seems like everyone’s reacting as if The New York Times were the gospel truth.
You should know how journalists can plow
Anything they want you to kowtow,
You need not bow to ambiguity that language might allow,
And you should proudly and loudly avow what you disavow.
And even though you should know that people can be wrong in their youth,
It seems like everyone’s reacting as if The New York Times were the gospel truth.
There’s a bias against the pious and most of the population.
There’s inaccurate generalization and covert democratization.
It’s a manifestation of orientation
Of patent discrimination with no reservations.
And even though you should know anyone can lie between one and another tooth,
It seems like everyone’s reacting as if The New York Times were the gospel truth.
You might not ignore the stories galore
About some war which some might abhor
Furthermore, you want to know what the war’s fought for.
And the New York Times may implore that that you do not explore.
And even though you should know that papers are sold for money – not for pity or ruth,
It seems like everyone’s reacting as if The New York Times were the gospel truth.
The New York Times has its ethicist declaring wrong from right.
Anyone can arbitrate random morals and learn how to write.
You don’t need to believe everything you see on paper and read.
There’s a lot of people who have the true stories which you need.
There’s no bases for opinions that many writers adduce.
There’s no logical argument that many articulate opinionated people produce.
Usually situations are simplified by the wording of the news.
And they’re usually told with preconceived notions and views.
You may respond to the words like they’re some stratospheric lyric,
But the Pyrrhic paragraphs are satiric.
And the information covered is barely hemispheric.
In fact, the journalist’s job is vicariously vampiric.
And even though you should know that not one of their writers is nearly a sleuth,
It seems like everyone’s reacting as if The New York Times were the gospel truth.
10. Nobody Needs to Like You
Music and lyrics by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: piano, drums, bass, keyboards, vocals
You’’ve lived a long time being unkind and cruel.
People try to avoid you, but you still think you’re cool.
You hate all guys, and you hate all girls.
Sometimes, I think you just hate the world.
Now, listen, I don’t want this to suddenly alarm you.
But, everybody else seems to want to harm you.
And, if you were a singer, then nobody’d like to mike you.
But, as the situation is, nobody needs to like you.
The neighborhood knows to stay far away.
Most people get offended by most things you say.
You make generalizations that are generally wrong.
No one can tolerate you for all that long.
Well, all the dogs around in town seem to want to bite you.
And, all the pyromaniacs claim to want to light you.
And, if you were a nation, every army’d like to strike you.
But, as the situation is, nobody needs to like you.
You strive to be notorious in every single place.
So, every institution and location knows your face.
You accuse people falsely and hurt people without reason.
You abuse people casually and sin in each season.
Well, if you were in a science lab, the students would dissect you.
Even homeland security doesn’t want to protect you.
And everyone just seems to strongly dislike you.
But, as the situation is, nobody needs to like you.
People would like you if you showed them respect.
But, you should know how to act and what to expect.
Be kind to your neighbors, and they’ll be kind to you.
And, if you’ll be a jerk to them, they’ll all be jerks to you too.
Well, if you were in a social hall, nobody’d like to meet you.
But, if you were in a dining hall, everybody’d like to eat you.
And if you were a drink, everybody’d add poison and spike you.
But, as the situation is, nobody needs to like you.
11. It’s Changed
Music and lyrics by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: electric piano, drums, bass, percussion, harmonica vocals
All your life, your life has seemed odd,
But it’s recently seemed really strange.
You understand all the jokes they tell
But you don’t laugh at a word they say.
It might seem that everything’s held back,
Or that nothing is now restrained.
You’re not sure what, while you’re sitting back, but you know that it’s changed.
You eat your food to live you life,
But it’s getting harder to feel pain.
Though you enjoy the better bread,
It’s all starting to taste the same.
They’re the same few chords, you know, that go to
Make up every song that you think is played.
You’re not sure what, while you’re sitting back, but you know that it’s changed.
If your rejection in ejection
From election holds the price you pay,
Then, know, that when you pay the fine,
It will all be fine, oh, it will be okay.
But, don’t you think it’s better to sit down
Than join any causeless raid?
You’re not sure what, while you’re sitting back, but you know that it’s changed.
You’ve only got ten fingers, yet
You’re already counting down the days.
Through your impatience,
It feels like the routine of every date.
You know, that though, it’s coming soon,
It might not seem to be worth the wait.
You’re not sure what, while you’re sitting back, but you know that it’s changed.
It’s sometimes good to be crazy,
But that they’re too lazy to say.
They see and fear the difference between
The snow and the pouring rain.
So, excuse me, please, if you have a problem
With you believing that I’m insane.
You’re not sure what, while you’re sitting back, but you know that it’s changed.
You’re waiting for some knight to fight
Some beast that you want slain.
But, when he jumps onto the stage you paid for,
You pull him off with your cane.
It’s a distressing thought at first, I know,
But, just remember that that idea’s not main.
You’re not sure what, while you’re sitting back, but you know that it’s changed.
In your state of shame, you wait
For the date of your mate to reign.
At this rate, you think it’s late, but
I don’t really see the bane.
You think someone might be at the gate,
But then all of the voices start to fade.
You’re not sure what, while you’re sitting back, but you know that it’s changed.
When you’re tired, you want to
Declare it the end of the day.
You look back on the memories,
But they have all been stained.
You think you’ve learned all of the words,
But all you know’s the refrain.
You’re not sure what, while you’re sitting back, but you know that it’s changed.
12. Boring Songs
Music and lyrics by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: piano, organ, bass, drums, guitar, trumpets, violins, vocals
Lightly playing chords under mediocre words about
Love or flowers or sadness or birds
And feeling sentimental in a way that’s detrimental,
Singers should have fears they’re ruining their careers because
Everybody hates really boring songs:
Songs that just go on and on and on.
Everybody hates really boring songs:
Songs that make everybody yawn.
A singer can croon or sing or shout or do whatever need be done to let feelings out
About something nobody cares about.
Wishing the singer were feeling fine, the singer can begin to whine.
The singer need not care if the listeners mind.
Everybody hates really boring songs:
Songs that just go on and on and on.
Everybody hates really boring songs:
Songs where songwriters just went wrong.
Nobody wants to listen about the people the singer’s been kissing
Because, to everybody else, it barely would matter.
If the listeners choose between hearing singers’ fantasies and catching a disease,
Everyone would choose the latter because
Everybody hates really boring songs:
Songs that just go on and on and on.
Everybody hates really boring songs:
Songs that make the listeners wish they were gone.
Singers think when they sound sad, nobody will care if they sound bad.
They hope the audience will weep.
Singers singing sad songs never think about why everyone’s getting up to get drinks
While the listeners who aren’t are falling asleep.
Everybody hates really boring songs:
Songs that just go on and on and on.
Everybody hates really boring songs:
Songs of which nobody’s ever fond.
Blah blah blah blah…
Blah blah blah blah…
Blah blah blah blah…
Blah blah blah blah…
Blah blah blah blah…
Blah blah blah blah…
Blah blah blah blah…
Blah blah blah blah…
A singer on a stage beneath a dome sings a tone that feels alone
Because the whole audience went home.
When people see a singer singing with soul, they think that the singer sings well,
But why don’t the singer’s singles ever sell? It’s because…
Everybody hates really boring songs:
Songs that just go on and on and on.
Everybody hates really boring songs:
Songs for pros that always get seen as cons,
Songs where the tempos are slow,
Songs where the vocals go low,
And songs where the vocals go high,
Especially for a guy.
Everybody hates really boring songs:
Songs that just go on and on and on.
Everybody hates really boring songs:
Songs that just go on too long.
Everybody hates really boring songs:
Songs that just go on and on and on.
Everybody hates really boring songs -
Everyone except for your mom.
13. Poorly Hidden Track
Song title: Mi Gato Tiene Un Elefante
Music by Mike Klein, Noam Londy, and Jonah Rank
Lyrics by Jonah Rank
Mike Klein – guitar, synthesizer
Noam Londy – drums, percussion
Jonah Rank – vocals
No hablo español – no, no.
No hablo español – no, no.
Pero, mis padres:
Mis padres dicen que hablo español
Pero no hablo español.
No hablo español.
No hablo español.
¡No no no no no!
No hablo español
Yo tengo un perro.
Mi perro, el habla español.
Mi perro habla español
Con mi gato.
Y mi gato y mi perro, ellos hablan español.
Y todos mis amigos,
Mis amigos, ellos hablan español.
Mis amigos buenos,
Mis amigos buenos hablan español.
Pero mis amigos pequeños, mis amigos pequeños no hablan español.
Y mis amigos grandes, mis amigos grandes no hablan español.
Pero tengo tres amigos,
Y mis amigos hablan español.
Pero, yo tengo un gato,
Y el gato tiene un elefante.
Ellos hablan espanol.
Mis amigos buenos hablan español.
Mi perro habla español.
Mi gato tiene un elefante.
Y el elefante es elegante.
El elegante elefante habla español.
Él habla espanol.
Hui!
¡Hable español!
¡Hable español!
