Lots of Friends & Money

by Spot Collins

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04:25
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credits

released December 20, 2016

Spot Collins, for the purposes of this record, is:

Steve Miller - Vocals, guitar, piano, and trumpet.
Eric Cowan - The bass guitar.
Miles Ziskind - Drums.
Eva Walsh - The violin and the viola.
Jesse Soifer - Melodica and other sounds.
Haley Cobb - Additional vocals.
Samantha Hamilton - Additional additional vocals.

The guitars and the piano were recorded at The Headroom Studio in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, by Mark Watter.

The drums were recorded at Rittenhouse Soundworks in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, by Peter Tramo and Jesse Soifer.

The strings were arranged and recorded at the String Garden in Quincy, Massachusetts, by Eva Walsh.

The bass guitar was recorded by Benjamin Greer at Sun Brewed Records in Boston, Massachusetts.

Everything else was recorded by Jesse Soifer of Galactic Cat Audio in the apartment next door to mine because that's where he lives.

The whole thing was mixed by Jesse and subsequently mastered by a robot that has learned to love.

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Spot Collins Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Rock and roll is okay.

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Track Name: Dollar in Your Wallet
So what?
Is it not enough to be the hand pressed in your pocket?
The dollar in your wallet’s gettin’ wadded up,
Forgotten at the bottom of enough
Flutes of finest champagne
Chase the taste of cocaine.
Oh the morning sun,
Why you always gotta come
Around when I’m all in doubt
About my falling out
Of love with rock and roll?
You could do to make it easier for me.

And though, if I could shake the weight away,
Get my vision going straight,
Don’t you think I would?
But I don’t think you could.
We’re all addled in our time
Doing battle with the line.
Do what it takes to keep your mind of the topic of decline.
Oh when you’re all in doubt
About your falling out
Of love with rock and roll.
We could do to make it easier you see.
Track Name: Bridget Jones' Diary
I feel a breeze I guess we must have left the window cracked,
And the morning dew has gathered in the dimples on your back.
Oh you know I can’t resist you when you roll your eyes like that.
But really ain’t the sunrise something sweet?

I stumble up to have a smoke and shake the sleep away.
Feels like a cool rain’s just stopped falling,
It’ll feel that way all day.
Me, I’m feeling like a drive,
Maybe the coast?
What do you say?
You know we could hit an IHOP on the way.

Cut to see you sitting on the beach,
Squintin’ at a copy of Bridget Jones’ Diary.
You turn to see me sleepin’,
Wayfarers way far down my nose.
And we both feel pretty happy I suppose.

So come out to the car and settle in.
It’s really not that far,
I bet we’ll get there before ten.
Put your feet up on the dashboard,
Let your hair blow in the wind.
It’s funny how the summer tends
To always go and come back ‘round again.

Oh, remember when we felt so crowded among all the concrete,
It clouded our lungs.
But from that pressure we did run.
And baby, it’s plain to see—
Sometimes you just need some space to breath.
We’re not selling out, we’re buying in;
To the only thing that counts,
The only race you gotta win.
And we’ve got a new momentum
And some sense of filling in.

And on the way home,
Your head leaned against the window—
I know why my eyes don’t see right half the time.
Because this life,
It burns so bright that it robs me of my sight.

If given long enough it’s all the same.
From the math on the blackboard, to the back porch in the rain.
In a way it lasts forever, though it often changes name.
Track Name: Brittle
I think you were right—
This has been pretty nice.
But I’m lookin’ for a clearer headed high.
Like the kind you get from Friday night,
Or the kind you get from tellin’ a lie.
Because I think that I work hard enough
To subsidize my only insides
With the obscene, the gasoline we need to go along with our lives.

And there’s a story we tell,
By truth or by rumor—
We all did so well,
Been some real good consumers.
And would you feel good if you were in your ideal TV?
Cause it’s got 5k pixel color, makes the real world seem much duller.
It’s nice to have,
And much more nice to need.

But every body’s brittle,
And everybody breaks
A chunk or just a little from
The madness that they make
To bring before the others
At the holy show and tell.
A reckoning, or auditing
Of coins in wishing wells.

And when they paint your portrait,
Let it be all tinted green.
And if you would record it,
Every detail of the scene
Belies a present threat of violence,
But the target isn’t me.
It’s all you can’t take with you when you leave.

But every body’s brittle,
And everybody breaks
A chunk or just a little from
The madness that they make
To bring before the others
At the holy show and tell.
A beckoning, or offering
Of coins to wishing wells.
Track Name: Bend it Like Becker
Did it get heavy?
Or is it just me?
Under pressure like we’re in a stinking sinking submarine.
But I’m not ready,
No no, man, you can’t make me.
In the deepest darkness there’s still light enough to see.

So hold up.
Everybody holed up in your dark apartments,
The part in your heart where the smart ends
Should pipe up and cry out loud,
"Stop looking for the key—they’ll never ever let you out."

But if you know a way to stem the flow
Of all of the oh god’s and all of the oh no’s,
The terror starts to fade, and time its time it takes—
An even steady pace.

Do you remember wakin’ up?
And everything was fine enough?
Though even then things kinda sucked.
But I don’t think, no, surely not this much.
With every passing minute, this perpetual beginning
Moves a little further down the line
But I’m fine, I don’t mind.
I find, I’m, I don’t mind.

But if you know a way to stem the flow
Of all of the oh god’s and all of the oh no’s,
The terror starts to fade, and time its time it takes—
An even steady pace.

Floating like dust in the glow
Of your second last episode,
You get up off the couch and decide to go out.
You put your feet on the pavement,
Walk to see the band in the basement
Hey man, don’t they sound just like Pavement?
And that’s where your day went.

Oh I’ve said a thousand times,
And I will say a thousand more—
You’ve got no use for a reason man,
You don’t know what it’s for.
Just try to live amid the bliss,
And quit your keepin’ score.
For fine lines define you and I.
We’re pint sized on the grand timeline.

So if you know a better way to go,
You’d do better to say so.
See we’d really like to know.
It’s evaded us thus far,
Though we’d like to make it ours.