Older Boys

by Art Sorority for Girls

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Daoud Tyler-Ameen: vocals, guitars
Joshua Gottesman: drums, vocals
Casey Holford: bass
Thomas Orgren: keys

Made in Virginia, with love from New York, NY and Washington, DC.
All songs by DTA except "All Year, Again" by Yoko Oji Kikuchi.

Thanks to Kevin Erickson, Hugh McElroy, Dan Fishback, David Combs, Jackie Zubrzycki, Nicole Heidbreder, Devin Cohen, Andy Bowen, Bob Boilen and Mike Katzif, who lent their basements, their cars, their instruments and their ears. In memory of Dashan Coram, who taught us to love the first take.

Recorded by Thomas Orgren at Persona Non Grata
Mastered by Chad Clark at Silver Sonya
Art and design by Saman Bemel-Benrud

© 2014 Daoud Tyler-Ameen | Alpha Sigma Gamma


released October 1, 2014



all rights reserved


feeds for this album, this artist


Art Sorority for Girls Washington, D.C.

DTA's dreams of love and anxiety, since 2002.

(Photo by Lars Gotrich)


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Track Name: Die Hard
Say how you feel when you're feeling inadequate
Press all your friends into memory foam
Feel with your eyes when your friends can't handle it
Some friendly girl might feel like home
Break out the jeans with the flat-front pockets
Smile all you want when you're paying for lunch
Once you get down into boyfriend trouble
The pecks on the cheek won't count for much

Evenings meeting up with a tube sock
Steeped in bleach without any lights off
Days in China, writing the future
Nights with a glue gun
When did it get so good?

Stressed out, anemic like a bad vegetarian
Got no idea what you’re blogging about
’Cause even the house show scene’s sectarian
I’m not the one who sold you out
Press pass to feel like a tour bus passenger
Press shots to feel like you’ve done it before
Pay stubs are nice and your eyes are delicate
You’re not the one we waited for

VIPs with CD advances
We ID if you wanna dance
We said this field was writing intensive
Write me a rent check
When did it get so good?

Great ideas, radical blindness
Censored on account of your shyness
You say it’s just business, I figured as much
And now you’re overcharging me for what I did to your old crush
Track Name: Man With A Van
Those girls just think they know you
Wait till we’re through this winter chill
They’ll see right through the plot
And flip on you like tippy-tops
I pray for your new neighbors
You’re black construction paper
Folded into false rewards
You scatter what you can’t absorb

Cold, calculated planning on your part
Pretend like you don’t know I know
Then move away when you get caught
And take a photo with your phone
Of you about to board the train
Wearing Christmas clothes and crossing out my name

But it’s nice to see you
And how have you been?
The man with the van is a friend of a friend

Those girls are old enough to
Make sense of what you’re up to
Though it’s still too close to call
There’s bets on how you’ll lose it all
Christines and Kates and Karens
Good schools and rich white parents
Palin voters all the way
They’ll fill out forms to make you pay

Old, obfuscated adjective supply:
You are made of what I gave you
You know that as well as I
Tell San Francisco, Philadelphia and Washington, DC
You are marked and rights-protected
Best believe you haven’t seen the last of me
Track Name: All Year, Again (Yoko O.K.)
(Music and lyrics by Yoko Oji Kikuchi)

I’ll be wicked obvious, laying on my stomach ache
You’ll be right about me; I’ll obsess over you to your face
One hand in the sand, one foot in the water
A party of six, your surrogate daughter
Your mouth is a jukebox, my back is the beach
We’re sleeping and dancing, a little of each
I don’t want to leave here, I want to move in
I’d start with my secrets, but where have they been?

“Summer ended in early August this year,” so you say
The beach dirt still fills up your shoes, the chlorine’s still inside your face
I say this: “If I wake up in Brooklyn, the day will last all week.”
And I say this: “If I wake up in Brooklyn, I can never be sad.”

And if I am to wake up in Brooklyn
I’d start with my secrets, but where have they been?
Too dirty and wordy for your windowsill
They’ll fall to the backyard like old Bad Luck Bill
And if I am to wake up in the South Bronx
I’d start with my shoes, but I can’t find my socks
I’ll walk in bare feet downtown to Manhattan
The day will last all year again
Track Name: Spaceship
Get-get-get inside your spaceship
You don't have a car, but you don't have to take this
You'll jet up out the city like your favorite authors
Look up at the stars, look up at the stars
You're on the fast track, living from a backpack
Leaving all the sad-sack suckers in the dust behind you
This is how you roll, permanent vacation
You put in your time, now you're out of patience

You could really go, no one's gonna stop you
You could really go, no one's gonna stop you
You could really go, but now you're getting caught up in it
Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute

Think about your friends, think about your other friends
Thinking about you when they can, probably wondering what happened to you
Can't return a call, skipping every breakfast
He tried to be a writer but instead he only fact-checks
Out of shape and uninspired
You force down salad and you just feel tired
And wake up every day and spend it from the get-go
Chewing on your thumb and staring out the window

You could really go, no one's gonna stop you
You could really go, no one's gonna stop you
You could really go if you could spare the money
But you're burning through your twenties for a misdirected, energetic

Asshole living in a castle
Waving ’round a brass pole with a little ball on top
And barking like a tree, debating every sick day
Storming through the office like Katrina on the fifth day
Sitting with your pockets full of fists
And you're staring at your wrists and your scissors and you're shaking so bad
You don't have a car, but you don't have to take this
So pack yourself a pair of socks and get inside a spaceship

Daydream and think of the nights
When they'll sing your name and they'll write it in lights
When the daydream ends like a kick in the chest
You can go out dancing and hope for the best
But then you get so bored you're half-asleep
The girls are jealous and the boys are cheap
A circus of the stars, a battle of the sexes
We're all in love with dying and we're doing it in taxes

You could really go
No one's gonna stop you

But then you get that feeling, like a train-track killing
Like an old-time villain in a silent movie
Crying like a kid, squealing like a sex tape
Shrieking like a Beatle fan and kicking like a sensei
Sitting with your pockets full of fists and you're staring at your wrists
And your shoulders, and they're aching so bad
Now they're cutting care, now they're talking pay cut
No one better dare ask you how your day was
Please don't make me act it out, it's hard enough to talk about it
I'll just rent my DVDs and watch my internet TV
I'll bide my time and pay my rent till something knocks me to my senses
When I've had enough of dying in the day shift
I'll pack myself a pair of socks and get inside a spaceship
Track Name: The Cape
Before you leave the cape
Was it everything you asked for
When you wrote to ask if you could stay?
A weekend is a time bomb
A countdown on an iPhone
An oldies station dedication day

Oh my God, it’s really too bad you came
We swore we’d stop, but it’s the only thing to keep us entertained

I came up in July
Stayed in your apartment
Wondered what we’d have the nerve to try
I’d say watch a movie
But you threw out your TV
The only resolution you stuck by

Oh, I know, you’ve never been so ashamed
Take heart, make love, just do it like you know my middle name

Stay bright, learn what it’s like
Kissing a Christian under her eyes
Stay soft, cute when you cough
What do you whisper when you get off?
Stay slight, you’ve got a type
I gotta practice, what do you like?
It’s late now, figure it out
It’s never too late to change

It’s really not so far
You didn’t have to walk me
But grace is still a virtue
And we’ve got ours to burn through
We’re the only ones we have to blame
Track Name: Dead Man
Say you like that song, I might still trust you
Say you like that song, we’ve been writing names and numbers down
Say you like that song, we just might have potential
Say you like that song, please be honest

Bad machine, get out, get clean
Get close, get cut, bleed out, heal up
Get gagged, get drugged, sixteen, get up
That’s it, I’m done, I said I’m not your son

Turn the jukebox down, we can sing this one together
Say you like that song, we’ve been taking names and ages for granted
Turn the jukebox down, turn that down, make the most of it
Say you know your father, it’s just semiotics

Bad machine, get out, get clean
Look sad, roughed up, talk sweet, we won
Get gagged, get drugged, sixteen, get up
That’s it, I’m done, I said I’m not your son

Pollen spreads around like flu
Velazquez had a date with you
He asks me what I think of you
When I’m down in the (202)
You jumped back when the bruise bled blue
You jumped back when the still life moved
You had no chance, you always knew
The dead man in the dream was you
The dead man in the dream is you

Oh, I know you thought we’d get caught
We just hung from the rafters
Oh, when it got cold, we got bold
Stretched you out like a dancer
Please, eyes shut, bad dream, wake up
That’s it, I’m done, that’s it, I’m done
That’s it, I’m done, I said I’m not your son
The dead man in the dream is you
Track Name: Lynda
Lynda Carter never cried when the bad men came
She just looked them in the eyes and said, “Behave.”
And our mothers gave us loving looks
And covered us in comic books
We’d write city symphonies in crayon on the edge of every page

And the armies crawled across our linen sheets on Monday mornings
When a touch of what was going around had come around to us
And our newlywed, adoptive mothers
Covered us in colored covers
We watched I Love Lucy and were happier than we would dare to say

Silver Surfers flew inside
Of our windows every other night
And we’d wake up imagining, we’d wake up imagining
And solar flares and fireballs
Would dance around the threadbare walls
And set our tiny eyes ablaze
With wonder at the things we thought we knew

Lynda Carter never cried when the bad men came
She’d just look them in the eyes and they’d behave
And we’d have our toast with marmalade
Drape sheets across our shoulder blades
And raid the fridge for ice cream
Till we heard the keychain jangling at the door

And our unwed teenage mother
Gave us one too many brothers
But we wrapped him in a pillowcase and loved him all the same
And when Tuesday came along
We went back to singing spelling songs
And Saturday was there before we knew it
And we’d known it all along
Track Name: Like Like Like
We have our own apartments
We have no wedding plans
Our twenties are our twenties
All loose lips and busy hands

And all these pretty people make my cheeks all flushed and flattered
Too many good friends and way too much to like, to like
Like after-party sidewalk chats that last forever
Like strands of hair that dance with pairs of eyes
Sometimes it's hard to breathe
Sometimes it feels like torture
Shaking when you talk, blushing like a birthday girl
Feeling strangely serious and filled with something dangerous

I speak to you in circles
We hear a good song, and laugh like something's funny
Believe in something sweet and safe and uneventful
And when it goes wrong, try to be surprised
We gave up such a good thing
For something we regret
And in our sleep, we say our sorries
And we try our best to take it back, but we don't have the heart for that

I see how you inhale so fast and act so different
There is a good friend trapped inside your body
It's so easy to kiss eyelids in the dead of winter
So hard to say I like you as a friend
And now I don't know how to touch you
So I take a clumsy guess
The pieces fit; we made it out somehow
Our coffee dates will end in coffee, and that'll be just fine for now