KICK UP THE DIGITAL DUST

by Johnny Gravity

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Wishlist 00:00 / 03:04 Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app. name your price lyrics VERSE 1: Renouncing highbrow opinions Fuels his engines Makes his mother livid And ruins her well crafted image Cause Stanley joined the family business Quit within a minute Dusted off his vintage Gibson Now he sings in bars on the fringes CHORUS: They're calling it a national tragedy They're calling it a national tragedy Without a hint of any irony They're calling it a national tragedy VERSE 2: Against his fathers wishes He ditches fixing glitches Instead he washes dishes His brothers and sisters think he's twisted But he's never been to prison Or had a drug addition On the microphone he's still spittin' Yet to regret his decision CHORUS: They're calling it a national tragedy They're calling it a national tragedy Without a hint of any irony They're calling it a national tragedy
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INTRO: Golf Clap, Soul Clap, Golf Clap, Soul Clap VERSE 1: It doesn't have to be any louder than that Or it will fall flat On deaf ears Lets be clear If you get a Bronx Cheer Than you should disappear Settle down and blend into the crowd Like the sun When it comes from behind the clouds CHORUS: Everyone here agrees You're just what the party needs Smooth and cool as can be Just what the party needs VERSE 2: Now that you've got it all down pat We'll roll out the welcome mat If you're even keeled You can ride the cyclone like it was the wonder wheel Then you can teach other people how to keep it real CHORUS: Everyone here agrees You're just what the party needs Smooth and cool as can be Just what the party needs
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Wishlist 00:00 / 03:44 Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app. name your price about Organized Religion vs. Technological SIngularity (Just Who Do We Believe?) lyrics INTRO 1: Yesterdays giant leaps Are today's bell-shaped curve beliefs Like when Mary got down on her knees Used her hair to dry the carpenter's feet But the elite, the poor and the weak They dare not speak, yet they're arguing None of us are sure how to proceed VERSE 1: I'd love to be Einstein smart But having a hard drive heart I think that's going too far Who's gonna drink with me at the dive bars If we can reboot, restart Reboot, restart Who's gonna drink with me at the dive bars If we can reboot, restart When we don't like who we are I'm not sure, I concur CHORUS: A blessing or sin Synthetic transcendence What I'm saying and suggesting Is I'm not sure, what I believe in What I believe in, What I believe in INTRO 2: Some stories sound too contrived Like the old man living in the sky Its no wonder that I kicked and cried On the day I was baptized It was nothing like they advertised Can you blame a guy for giving another method a try BRIDGE: The debate raged from dawn to dark Sure I'd like my smile to be a thousand watts But we'll have Bar codes instead of birth marks VERSE 2: Replaceable organs and parts We won't need hospitals only repair shops Someone call the consciousness cops My wires are already in knots And my nerves are completely shot CHORUS: A blessing or sin Synthetic transcendence What I'm saying and suggesting Is I'm not sure, what I believe in What I believe in, What I believe in
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VERSE 1: You read the Cliff Notes version of the Bible Join the marathon at the 25th mile We all have our savior on speed dial But you gotta do the work yourself every once in a while CHORUS: Cause adversity, she's a darling Easy Street I beg your pardon To you that sounds as foreign As country music coming from Harlem VERSE 2: You'll take the keys to the castle As long as it does come with any hassle If its not smooth sailing then brother, you're bailing You wanna get high without even inhaling CHORUS: Cause adversity, she's a darling Easy Street I beg your pardon To you that sounds as foreign As country music coming from Harlem OUTRO: It takes more than praying down on your knees You gotta get up everyday and roll up your sleeves
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VERSE 1: I make the sign of the cross As I toss my thoughts about the culture wars Up on to Brooklyn brick walls You call... My gospel aerosol An eye sour You're so appauled But this is my church not yours VERSE 2: Scriptures and slogans Commandments like Moses By my words are never loaded And I can show it With graphics for every demographic I'm a catchphrase bandit My bombs have landed on water tower canvases CHORUS: I'm hitting up the heavens Its the last person, that you were expecting To hit up the heavens VERSE 3: I'm a street art preacher With everyday seekers Like John, Paul and Peter But your far from a believer So, I take it deeper..... I started tagging planets With spray paint cannons In every color that you can image My impact is hard to fathom CHORUS: I'm hitting up the heavens Its the last person, that you were expecting To hit up the heavens
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VERSE1 : I made a promise to cool my jets But watching movies, playing checkers and chess Just wasn't cutting it I had to wet my lips I took a few sips, you know they turned into swigs CHORUS: I was only trying to kill a night Never thought that it might haunted me for the rest of my life VERSE 2: I read a stack of paperbacks About Pearl Harbor and the entire work of Raymond Carver The pleasant autumn turned into boredom And my true love came a calling So I entered the church In an all or nothing search I mumbled through the prayers and drank all the wine there CHORUS: I was only trying to kill a night Never thought that it might haunted me for the rest of my life
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975 pixels wide, 40-180 pixels tall, .jpg, .gif or .png, 2mb max "Miss Out Syndrome" by Knock 'Em Alive "Miss Out Syndrome" cover art Wishlist 00:00 / 03:21 Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app. name your price lyrics VERSE 1: When my schedule was checked by the inspector general They called me a hoodlum, a rebel, the devil Just for spite, I took it to a whole other level So they slapped a warning sticker on my chest Made me undergo a battery of test And they tied up my ankles and my wrists. But that was a band aide approach I slipped out of the ropes And continued with all my plans, dreams and hopes. CHORUS: I follow the wind, when its twisting Run after the thunder in the distance Or I get server bouts of Miss Out Syndrome I get server bouts VERSE 2: I know it can't be good for me either When the Saturday Night Fevers Turn into full blown seizures "cause I'm double booked, triple booked most nights And expert told me I'd mellow with time If and when I do, you can read me my last rites CHORUS: I follow the wind, when its twisting Run after the thunder in the distance Or I get server bouts of Miss Out Syndrome I get server bouts
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VERSE 1: We descended from inner city and suburban country club To get our bells rung By the unhinged sun and the moon when it bumps Into a pile of junk a data dump Full of binary bites Bit and chucks In lump sums We put them under our tongues Within a month Look what I’ve become An addict on the hunt For another bump CHORUS: So, I kicked the digital dust VERSE 2: A peaceful monk A polarizing monk My enemies my love ones Just about everyone Wanted some In their blood, in their lung You can’t me among Those who had their stomach’s pumped Within a month Look what I’ve become An addict on the hunt For another bump Binary Bits, Bits and Chucks Give me the morsels Give me the crumbs CHORUS: So, I kicked the digital dust It was just about enough to get me buzzed I kicked up the digital dust
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about

Recorded over 3 years in New York City

credits

released March 8, 2015

All Lyrics and Lead Vocals: John Q. Gruber
All songs composed by Jamie Muffett except “Just What The Party Needs” by Scott Jacoby & “Baby Bump?” by Scott Jacoby and Alex Bilowitz

Track #2: Bass and Keys by Terry Solomon and guitar by William Ryan**
Track #5: Harmony vocals by Ben Wise
Track #8: Trumpet by Brendan Ryan
Mixing by Jamie Muffett except where indicated * by Scott Jacoby
Mastered by Scott Jacoby
Artwork: Josh Siegel

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Knock 'Em Alive New York

Artist Bio
John Q. Gruber (aka “Knock ‘Em Alive”) will be forever indebted to music. He writes and records songs as a form of pay-back (with interest), hoping to add to the long-term value of the vault. Nothing loaned him more inspiration than New York City between the years 1977 to 1984. It was gritty, grimy and explosively-charged. These were the times of a near-bankrupt city, the reign of Th ... more

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