/oʊˈbɑːdz/

by Aubades

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02:05
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02:57

about

This EP is a monument to a killer live band that only played six shows from September 2014 to July 2015. Now that group of humans has split, going separate ways, living their lives, and that's okay! Lives are there to be lived! These songs are all very 2014, emotionally; they're small monuments to how I used to feel, but it's nearly 2016 and high time I feel something new! Bringing these tunes to fruition so Aubades could play them *and* playing them with Aubades have taught me so much about music going forward, and going forward is the ideal option, so I'm proud to have these tunes as monuments themselves to the best dang first real band a fella could ask for.

Wishing Eva her best in China, Mary her best in NOLA, Seth his best in dominating Minneapolis with Wretch and Ego Death, and wishing Toby would drink absinthe and watch art films with me more often. Shouts to Jenny and Ian, once an Autobody always an Autobody; shouts to Burnell and Isabel for seeing every show between the both of ya'; and shouts to the future, dread it as I may.

credits

released December 3, 2015

Ross Koeberl: vocals, harmonies, bass, guitar, drum programming (3)
Toby Ramaswamy: drums (-3), infectious charm
Eva Moe: violin, whistling (4)
Seth Tracy: lead guitar (-3)
Mary Scott: tenor saxophone
Walt Lilly: pronouncing Aubades (1)

all tunes written by Ross Koeberl // track 4 contains elements of "Pavan" by Amazing Blondel // recorded all over Gracehamms, Chateau Durphy, and Toby's attic // the original sketch edited for the album cover is by children's book illustrator Brinton Turkle

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Aubades Minneapolis, Minnesota

aubades is rt koeberl and sometimes more and sometimes less

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Track Name: Regrettable Haircuts
You're a much better dancer than me
but I dance around yr questions like Vaslav Najinsky,
and with a sense of silliness that some consider nihilistic,

but I don't want you to suffer my sleep
or stubble scrapes when a stranger's all I'll let myself be
in a self sabotage, a self reserve clause.

Trust, to me, is oil and water for sure:
top-heavy with what stifles and not what stokes the fire
guess a spark's never sunken to the bottom of my glass yet.

Being wounded is banal and I need
to go dutch on desire; if I could offer reprieve
I would bury my face like the blade of a hatchet in yr neck.

I need someone who will
hold me in the baggage cl-aim at the airport!
I need someone who will
always know the perfect way to get rid of my hiccups!
Someone who'll love me through all my
regrettable haircuts!
Track Name: Bitter Roots
"Please don't look at me":
this crawled under my breath
at my brain's demands.
Morrissey already
wrote a song called
"I Want the One I Can't Have"
and I can't state it any clearer.
Can I indulge in a faberge feeling?
I wanna get high in your
backyard and not fucking
care about anything,
but I've never got high
and I've never not cared before.

Presumption, like blood
or percussion, flows,
of my futility.
Okkervil River said
"Don't Fall in Love With
Everyone [That] You See",
but I can't see that not happening.
All that I know of you paints a misty picture, but
all that I know of you could
fit into one breath
and I'm not a strong swimmer,
yet I wouldn't so much mind
you pulling me under.

But there are still situations
unique and unwritten-of...
Guess that's what I'm doing this for...

so I'll write hymns to your image
and maybe grow bitter roots...
but I've been uprooted before.
Track Name: Blurst Behavior
A slightly fictionalized account
of you leaving your umbrella at my house.
I sprinted to get it for you, but I blacked out.

It doesn't happen often
but I assume you got it
because I haven't seen it
or you
around.
Was it
something that I said?

And in my last lucid steps I had decided
to leave my comfort zone long enough to have invited you
to visit the zoo (someone gave me two free passes)

but now I'm too embarrassed
so I went by myself twice.
Can't say that I related
to the
caged ones;
I'm free
to emulate the predator.
Track Name: Gurkha Kukri
From earning
contusion constellations
I could once derive
a selfish pride, a
private slice of sky,
but to be defined
as the cold of space
left me unsatisfied:
to be passionless and
cold myself
and to be unsure.

and I disk defragment
with a cigarillo or a cigarette
mmmmmmmaybe once or twice a month
as recompense
for pain left unexchanged
but latent in your touch.
Oo-why not study for the
things you learn the hard way?
Learn the hard way
and you won't go that way again.

And my heart says,
"I know you
wear me on your sleeve
but that's no reason to
up-and embalm yourself in yearning."
Say I,
"Hold your tongue.
This is what you
wanted; why not arson if
there isn't anyone to
kindle and keep you burning?
I won't keep you burning.
**
I won't keep you burn---

Self-destruction is
the name of the game, a-a-and
I aim to win.
[x4]"