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In Translation

by Frankly Lost

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  • Physical CD
    Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    In preparation for touring and playing many more shows I had CDs made. They aren't cased in a conventional sense, but wrapped in plastic and sandwiched between printed cardstock. As low-cost, low-impact, and eco-friendly as I could make them. Professionally printed and burned, so likely a lot nicer than the home-brewed ones I was putting out before.

    Includes unlimited streaming of In Translation via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

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1.
Liar 02:30
I tell beautiful lies to keep my loved ones off my neck, "I've got a job incoming," "No my life is not a wreck." "I haven't been drinking, I don't do that anymore." "I had people over, that's why bottles are on the floor." I'm a liar and that's the truth, and what I have been told, is lies that don't hurt anyone, are quiet alright to hold and show yourself, and in this case, my lies are only hurting me and that's alright, "I'm only tired 'cuz I had a hard night sleeping." "It'll be fine as atleast I'll sleep well tonight." "I don't drink and drive, 'cuz I don't wanna die." "I don't get nervous playing this guitar," now really that's a lie. But I wouldn't lie to you, I wouldn't lie to you, I wouldn't lie to you, No I wouldn't lie to you and that's the truth, I'm a liar and that's the truth, and what I have been told, is lies that don't hurt anyone, are quiet alright to hold and show yourself, and in this case, my lies are only hurting me and that's alright.
2.
Meet me in the lot behind Six Bay, let's hope the mechanics don't see us. you bring the spray paint and ciders, and I'll bring my baggage and all of my flaws, knowing what lays before us, you'll probably grow to hate me, maybe instead we can paint me, a fresh coat of paint on myself. Two old cars, they sold us small little wheels, they rolled us, with fresh coats of paint, and a positive outlook, we'll probably conquer it all. La-la-la-la La-la-la-la-la-la I know my guitar case is bulky, it might be a mistake please forgive me, It's big as a person and rigid, won't fit in the boot and the back seat is small, thinking we know what's before us, you'll most likely grow to hate me, maybe instead we inflate me, my car tires and myself Two old cars, they sold us small little wheels, they rolled us, with fresh coats of paint, and a positive outlook, we'll probably conquer it all. La-la-la-la La-la-la-la-la-la I couldn't paint this without you, and I couldn't drive this without you, I couldn't survive this without you, now ten-thousand miles is nothing at all, Two old cars, they sold us small little wheels, they rolled us, with fresh coats of paint, and a positive outlook, we'll probably conquer it all. La-la-la-la La-la-la-la-la-la
3.
Fresh Sheets 01:42
I roll over in my bed again, like rolling over in my grave. Maybe if I wait here long enough, the two things will become the same. I don't have time for laundry, my clothes will rot with age. But you can fix it if you pick up that shovel, and put a fresh sheet of dirt on my grave. Fresh sheets on my grave, I'll have fresh sheets on my grave. Put a fresh sheet of dirt on my gra-a-a-ave. *whistling solo* Fresh sheets on my grave, I'll have fresh sheets on my grave. Put a fresh sheet of dirt on my gra-a-a-ave.
4.
Outta Gas 02:06
I've survived my share of car wrecks, And I've survived some written bad checks, I don't know if I'm surviving you. Well if survival is living through it, And not just having your pilot light lit, Then you can't say I'm really cooking, I have no gas at all, And it just: Punched right through The glass into me Pushed out the back Now it's going through me I can't be a leaf that's floating When I'm pinned to the wall Pull the plug And kill the power Shut the gas off Let my final - hour be more than surviving life must have more meaning Than barely scraping by All I want to do is live before I die.
5.
U D F 02:39
What can I relate with? I haven't got a job. Came home a mess from the mountains, an unemployable, uninflatable, mixing up metaphors slob. A walking dumpster fire, with a sense of creeping dread, probably flaming grease and power lines, water makes it spread, it's an unmitigated, dumpster fire And I'm not relatable, a dangerous sort of dull. Interesting when viewed from a distance, waking up, everyday, doing nothing at all. A walking dumpster fire, with a sense of creeping dread, probably flaming grease and power lines, water makes it spread, it's an unmitigated, dumpster fire. A walking dumpster fire, with a sense of creeping dread, probably flaming grease and power lines, water makes it spread, it's an unmitigated, dumpster fire.
6.
Coffee Song 01:38
The way I live my life, there's a certain sort of thing, that when someone makes you coffee, it means more than just "here's some coffee," On a lengthy journey in a land of ice and snow, I reached out to an estranged professor, a friend I used to know, Our bridges burned behind us a fire set by someone else, knowing not just where we stood, I didn't know what I'd get, But arms were opened wide to me, In my time of loss and need, And hour after hour talked, Comparing notes and data points, And come the morning dawn, A French roast brewed and bubbling, I sunk into an old armchair, And sipped the taste of love. The way I live my life, there's a certain sort of thing, that when someone makes you coffee, it means more than just "here's some coffee," So something I'll never grasp, A thing I struggle to see, Something my heart can't understand, Is if my barista... loves, me?
7.
They won't let me play in a death metal band no way oh, they won't let me into their death metal band. Well try as I like putting heads on a pike while I call to the beast laying under the sand, they still say no to my death metal band. They don't want a banjo in a death metal band. No way oh, they don't saw a harp in a death metal band. I don't play the banjo or fiddle or harp, I just play guitar and even that's pretty bland. So they don't want me in their death metal band. I can't play a power chord, I can't play a power chord, I can't play a power chord. I don't wanna be in their death metal band. No way oh, I could never be in their death metal band. They just sing about dragons, Vikings and warlocks, demons and goblins, running over the land. I wouldn't fit in in that death metal band. I can't play a power chord, I can't play a power chord, I can't play a power chord. I can't play a power chord, I can't play a power chord, I can't play a power chord.
8.
Green at 19 01:42
I woke up in my closet on a cloudy day in March I felt like I was hopeless homeless cold and losing touch and Casey Walked me to the car, he took my hang-over in stride, my friends had covered everything my ticket and my ride, so going When I wasn't sleeping I was looking into cars, Knocking on some windows drawing funny looks And gaining what was far more fitting of my homeless man disguise, wearing my apathy's patchy beard and clothes too big to be my size, On that fateful day in March I met my match and lost my heart inside a mosh pit's loving fray And if I could go back today, I know that nothing I could say would take the bruises that I earned that day.
9.
It's awfully warm for November, With sunshine and positive vibes, And some people think we have crowned the devil, But I'm not wearing sleeves outside, The world keeps turning, And keeps heating up, And unless I miss my guess, We'll either catch a bullet, Or boil alive, But I won't wear sleeves outside, OUTSIDE, OUTSIDE, I'm not wearing sleeves outside, The world may be ending, But until it does, I'm not wearing sleeves outside. I'm working through the Translation, Of darkness into light, And finding the good in everyone, And chasing the positive vibe, The world keeps turning, And keeps heating up, And unless I miss my guess, We'll either catch a bullet, Or boil alive, But I won't wear sleeves outside, OUTSIDE, OUTSIDE, I'm not wearing sleeves outside, The world may be ending, But until it does, I'm not wearing sleeves outside.
10.
Restless, you won't settle down this time. You're pacing back and forth, and calling a name that's mine. Pleading, you come and lay by my side. Soon you stand up again, what you want, you can't decide. I hope you find it, I know you're sick, But I just need more time. To feel your warmth beside me. And see you play outside. I'll open doors just so, one day you'll find it. Dumbstruck, I know. There can't be more than this. I can't forget you, you know I'll always miss, your kind indifference, you're loving touch, your arrogance, I'll turn the handle one more time. I hope you find it, I'll help you to find it, I know you're gonna find it. I know you're sick, But I just need more time. To feel your warmth beside me. And see you play outside. I'll open doors just so, one day you'll find it.
11.

about

"In Translation" is an album best identified by its DIY nature, anti-folk inspirations, and a firm biting on to of the folk-punk trope that "you don't have to be able to sing well, to sing and play guitar." Combining a mix of personal subject matter and moderately satirical silliness, Frankly Lost's lyrics are ham-fisted, and at times awkward, while still proving that the artist writing them has something he really wants to say.

The album was written to be something that could be taken on tour in backyards, basements, and bars. Whiskey, emotion, and an acoustic guitar are all that's required to capture the raw and at times dirty chords and voice of "In Translation"s lone creator.

*****

credits

released November 11, 2016

Composed, written, recorded, "mixed", and finally "mastered" by Frankly Lost Marsters. Most of this was done within the confines of a GMC Savanna conversion van named The Walkabout.

Produced with loving patience and enthusiasm by Corey "El Desche" Desch. <3

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about

Frankly Lost Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Frankly Lost is a rogue personality fronting a slowly-ever-growing band of misfits making highly energetic and earnest DIY music that feels somewhere between fringey singer-songwriter Art and ska-punk. Following in the tradition of American Folk music, their works are musically and lyrically simple, charged with emotion, and inspired by acts such as Erik Petersen’s Mischief Brew and Frank Turner. ... more

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