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SENTIMENTAL EDUCATION

by Advrb

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1.
this is my year please, hear me! this is my year
2.
straighten my tie, graze my sleeve, and blink your eye i’ll tie your scarf with polka dots, the silk smooth, a double knot we look like scott and zelda pull me into the green leaf haven we’ll drink and dance our sillhouettes captured in the summer sunse swing the empty bottle of red wine we didn’t buy like a parasol at your side when we compose a note together we sign it ‘s & z fitzgerald’ by the riverside turn out coyly in your white tie and tails stop me under the canopy gaze over my white tie and tails stay up till 5 a.m. with me and stroll along the avenue once again, it is 1922
3.
we pretended we were in southern italy dressed like fashion sketches jumping off the page we pretended we were twenty-something hipsters making photocopies of a boy ballerina we pretended we were normal teens kissing on the couch in my parent’s house but we stopped pretending after the greatest hug you are my teddy bear giving my strings a little tug and we stopped pretending when i walked you home under a low moon the shadow of the greenery touched the shadow of our clasped hands and we stopped pretending in the wide spotlight middle of the street i was your hankercheif when i spoke with three sweet face kisses never have silent words been so well heard
4.
4 a.m. 03:48
“4 a.m. it’s closing time” you spoke so tenderly we kissed on your front steps so severely it felt like we were recovering from troubled times and maybe we were i walked off into the mist m earlier we’d talked of memories of middle school and how r.e.m. sort of saved our lives well tonight your copy of UP lifted me up over one last little hill where my corduroy lowtops came untied i saw reflections of every street light those cold sparks seemed to say “i think you can.”
5.
the train looked like it was moving backwards we were surrounded by voices and stale smells so we moved four rows to four seats facing forwards and out the window of the gliding jail cell we saw a castle in the water up on a hill; a fortress from the revolutionary way the revolutionary war! the concert was the perfect get-away we’d all forgotten how looking at the looming buildings is like holding a parent’s hand when you are small we ran through new york city and we jumped on every bench that we found we ran through jumped on every bench that we found the lampposts in the spooky park held real flames i looked at myself across the subway car and realized that “i’m in new york city and this night will not end until we’re back in vermont and snug in our beds”
6.
in the front yard, on the swing i’ll be squinting to make out all the words in the the concluding drowsy rereading of 'Summer Crossing' with my eyes i will film with a wide angle lense every second of the summer this time i’ll be able to play back pints of coconut milk ice cream shared sweaty sheets tossed away from late sleepers heads stuck out the sunroof in northwest night light picnics in the park, grass stains left over trampoline jumping, bed thumping hiking illegaly after hours off the trail dangling legs from a ledge over a remote river singing with peers & being moved to tears movies under blankets by the campfire gin, lemonade, and tapes & tapes made sounds of saturday looksgood to me personifying every second of the summer this time i won’t neglect the teenage freedom of late july this time i won’t forget that the beauty of our friendships lie in the lasting way we save our days in our pockets they go home with us and stay the teenage freedom of late july i won’t ever let it die...
7.
personal pie still warm devoured on the hood of the car with popsicle sti all around here we find patches of perfect bare barked boney trees swaying in their littered leaves where trevor and i sat on a long log, laying lovingly along the forest floor the october wind blows and the jack-o-lanterns glow this is autumn, this is my privelaged life this is “borning,” this is my surpassed strife four years now i’ve been the me i aim to be i hope to still be learning at thirty so i can write a precocious autobiography and site the night in the backseat dancing stupidly to shitty depeche mode tapes and kidnapping a cardboard stand up from hannaford’s grocery store or the sunday we constructed a clubhouse on the fourth floor of the visual & performing arts building where no one can watch us working the rhythmic rumble of the radiator personifies our productivity
8.
winter is wading in spreading out, up and around the house the way high tides calmly crash, up and around sea shores i have not seen snow of this storybook quality since i was six, with freezing fingers and i remember holding my hands palms up high to the azure sky to catch the visible warmth of the sun floating down to thaw all the frosty noses, fingers and toes tonight there is a specific peacefullness with the scent of celery and butter drifting in from the kitchen i wish for all to be safe this way the slow motion migration & the fast flickering flame assure me that everything is & will be okay this tea that comforts me was compiled creatively this cardigan that clothes me was cabled with care this song that compliments my mood was sung three decades ago on a day of similarly settling snow
9.
once again, stepping out to haunt the old haunts passing the houses of fifth grade friends you stop in the spot where you stop at the minivan’s tinted window to look at your reflection and breathe it in and seal it in the shopping center is lit up with many white lights the bar is open even though its sunday but at least there are no fights if your life was a graphic novel these intersections would be wordless frames !homes, yards, stop signs and stars! the breezeway of your middle school seems so fucking small and you check to make sure that the desks in the art room are still splattered with 30 years old paint in the hallway lit now for no one on a summer night the ghosts of your teachers and classmates wait you know your favorite one of them is dying another lost his dad some have had babies and abandoned them some you have no clue as to what has become of them and with a bounce in your step, you turn to the quiet neighborhood, your quiet neighborhood...
10.
Pomegranate 03:46
you tore into a pomegranet and i doubted you could handle it but by the time of its demise you were a wearwolf in disguise covered- lips & chin & knees with ruby matching our flushed faces and if the skin was lifted from any part of me you wouldn’t have to look you would crawl with closed eyes and know my insides seasons continue to cycle through i will follow the sun as it dips into the landscape in the days before it starts to hybernate and when our twilit house welcomes me home you will be there, wrapped, momentarily sedate and this is the ninteenth song written for you with this same simple note and with it i sew myself into the lining of your coat
11.
this decade i will live with my past as the primer for the canvas i will cover with brighter, better colors and a new sense of composition i have come a long way since my pre-college days and as the faces of friends change i willl do my best to stay the same “i shall be lifted higher than any of you on the backs of the seasons” my teenage years will become box-in-attic memories and each year to come will be added to the sum of collected recollections i can connect the solstice and the equinox with a new album and a new adventure when my lady leaves me and finds herself a girl i’ll just have to unfurl my tensions, smile and try to envision a justified epilogue when i’m unable to laugh i’ll recite Virginia and my sadness will be cut in half “i shall be lifted higher than than any of you on the backs of the seasons” a snowball will fly and hit a flowering tree and make it sprout leaves which eventually will fall but i will stay standing, standing, standing, standing tall

about

'Sentimental Education' was made about and during my freshman year of college. It was mostly recorded at the amazing all-ages arts space The Department of Safety in Anacortes, WA. I was generously lent many of the instruments used on this record, and couldn't have possibly made this album without the huge garage space/echoey hallways/tiny offices of that place.

credits

released December 7, 2006

This album features Taylor Kaplan's drumming and trumpeting. The rest of the racket, using guitars/drums/drum machine/organs/pianos/electric piano was made by me.

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Advrb Portland, Oregon

Andrew Barton plays, sings, and records as Advrb.

Kellen Hopfner sings with him.

Josh Bay plays cello and electric piano.

Elisabeth Ryan plays drums.

Joshua James Amberson plays bass.

The band sounds both quiet and loud.
... more

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