(Tourist)

by Adler Hall

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1.
2.
Line up by the bull again - don't all close your eyes this time. Just keep quiet if you can - don't ask me if you look nice. I'd just say you're not so hot like my 10 am but I know I won't. You say you marched 5th avenue for Amadou Diallo's trial You say you played the Luna Lounge and got high with Nick Valensi You show your kids the place you lived before you moved back to Ohio Don't just say it goes so fast then ask me about my weekends - Just me, Jim Beam, and HBO in the city I should know but I know I won't so I'll try not to bother you.
3.
4.
Half 05:19
Think this room's a bit too crowded for our quiet doubts about the soundtrack We'll make due, we'll use the corners shout our names above some chorus I don't know well We'll struggle to make conversation land on all the places that we'd rather be than New York Mute the news in Ahmed's taxi spill our drinks into the backseat on our way home you whisper platitudes from porn scenes run your hand way up my inseam - sorry Ahmed, I can't stop this you can take wrong turns down one way backstreets run the fare up by $5.50, I won't mind it - I won't mind you wasting your time here Strip down to your silhouette and stay for me I'll take one half of you. Strip down to your silhouette and stay for me I'll take one half. You can keep the rest of it. You lean back your eyes half open follow all the pre-war moulding on my ceiling That's alright, I don't mind I'll keep playing my own rhythm to your breathing, as you speed up You sit up, won't pause to savor it as if my tongue's some kind of favor you should return to me. I know this room's a bit too crowded for you quiet doubts about it in the morning. We'll make due, dress in the corners, learn each others' names once more I have grown so sentimental I would even smoke your menthols if you offered 'til I"m nauseous We can take wrong turns down one way backstreets fool around in taxi back seats I wont mind it. I don't mind you wasting your time here.
5.
If I keep my voice down here will you know that I'm a tourist here in London and all my blood's still in me? Don't chase me back to Boston I would even pay for you to lay me down and talk me through the ways you can console me. You say "nothing is holy. Nothing round here not my skin or your name but you can afford me. You can afford me for an hour or more, 'til you're sick of it" Will you chase me back to Boston You press your face against my collar say I taste like lotus water if that's what you wanted You wrap my body round your thumb and trace the constellations with your tongue and whisper all their names to me. You take your time to shape Orion you say that's how you like to write it Nothing is holy. Nothing round here not my skin or your name and you can afford me. You can afford me for an hour or more 'til you're sick of it. Sick just like before, so why come here at all? If I keep my voice down here will you know that I'm a tourist here in London and all my blood's still in me? Cause anyone can find St. Paul's and wander through the catacombs or climb up and whisper in the gallery.
6.
7.
Block Party 03:41
I love the sirens, and I love the haze I would buy it as a Valspar paint - police cerulean. There's a line of folks stretched down the block quiet like they all forgot a brownstone could even catch fire. But maybe I can get my name out if I frame the fire with the line around the corner and the news picks up my photo. They'll want before and after so I'll wait and watch the fire grow. I'll watch the fire crawl up the walls and stay here 'til I'm too tired or the fire's out I can get to know my neighbors offer consolation like I hope there's no one in there. I'll watch the ash and hydrant water bind together and start to fall I'll let it hit my tongue. I can get to know my neighbors joke around about the cannibal s'mores we'd make if the cops would let us closer I'd press my nose up to the flames and Wait and watch the fire grow. I'll watch the fire crawl up the walls and stay here 'til I'm too tired or the fire's out. I'll try to stay up half the night if I can that's just the fire and it's out of my hands I don't need the streams from St. Paul or from Dallas that's just the fire and I'm already calloused I'm covered in ridges and red as the water that's just the fire that makes the salt hotter I'll stay out tomorrow I'll stay out all night that's just the fire and I love the light I watch the fire cause I love the light.
8.
Cicada 04:10
You come up your head back you smile from your corner. You hand me my keys back and you rush me out. You can't believe your luck you found me. I tell you I'm higher than some 17-year cicada, and I'll be here for hours if you stick around you make me think I'll be alright. We'll share our favorite photographs of where we'll go. Plan some trip out east of Eden, Idaho. Can't believe the things I tell you. I can't believe my luck. I think I know I think I found my love here. Your brother keeps calling from some fireworks show south of Paris. Ignore it God please ignore it, lover we can barely talk. We're close enough to being alright. I tell you I'm higher than some 17-year cicada and we'll stay up, I promise, 'til we can barely talk and I can't believe my luck I think I found you.
9.
tied to this post or I'd climb down. you know i'd follow the sirens if i could help somehow. i know i can't get back home for a while. i left my keys in some garden, so I'm still out, i'll watch the city rising. All I can offer is all my desire I'm sorry that's all it's the best I could find here. We'll go to the coast with my friends in the morning We'll fuck around then count down 'til we run in the water. back, i could call you back like i promised. i know it's four in the morning, i know i'm still coming down. i know you could climb up on my shoulders and i could take half your weight and carry you around. All I can offer is all my desire I'm sorry that's all it's the best I could find here. We'll go to the coast leave the songs to the sirens Cause I've got no words that mean more than the silence they'd break.

credits

released September 8, 2016

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Words and music by John Henry Hoagland

Produced, recorded, & mixed by Kyle Joseph at Perimeter Recording with Assistant Engineer Ian Lavely.

Mastered by Justin Colletti at JLM Sound

JHH: Voices, guitar, synth, bass, piano, programming, percussion
KJ: Drums, bass, guitar, programming

Additional Performances by

Dan Gouker: Trumpet, Flugelhorn
John Guari: Trumpet, Flugelhorn
Karl Lyden: Trombone, Bass Trombone
Laura Schatz: Cello

All field recordings made by JHH

Album artwork by Mikel McCavana

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Adler Hall Brooklyn, New York

Henry Hoagland
Robin Buyer
Spencer Inch
Kyle Joseph
Ryan Kershaw

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