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Spectator Sport

by Pussyft

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1.
Dirty Mags 03:54
lyrics
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Frank’s dad’s got a secret stash It’s a big old box of dirty mags I open one and it seems bizarre Because there’s Frank’s mom she’s a porno star I wanna see I wanna see what’s there I wanna see what’s in there Walking around in a robe I never knew she made the centerfold She’s got a cocktail and a TV set And now she’s getting loose, lying on the sundeck I wanna see I wanna see out there I wanna see what’s out there Turning the pages and I’m looking hard Hey Frank, your mom, she’s quite a star Vacuums the rug with a teddy on Hell now, I need some relief. Hey, where’s the bathroom jawn? I wanna see I wanna see, I swear I wanna see and I don’t care Late at night in the neighbor’s yard Sneaking around, because I’m a peeping Tom Up in her window, in a negligee and she’s doing her dance, looks like I’m here to stay I wanna see I wanna see up there I wanna see what’s up there
2.
Midnight Dancer 04:42
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You creep in the night Through upholstered doors Cough up the cover Hear all the roars The glitter and skin Perfume and white dust Your secret one thrill In this gentleman’s club Midnight dancer Bright lights on a stage A velvet curtain Jacket and tie Glass of bourbon A dancer in gold And red tinsel moves She’s mounting the pole And she’s turning the room Midnight dancer Well above the stage To the pole she hangs tight Staring transfixed She’s a blurry white light Spinning around The quicksilver mast In the mist she’s abound How long will it last? Midnight dancer Through a clear empty glass She’s no longer in view No more midnight dancing Past the final revue The dark empty stage Leaves you wishing for more Now the house lights are lit And they’ll be no more Midnight dancer
3.
Blue on White 05:25
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I’m sailing to the edge Gonna fade into the sunset Onto the long horizon ahead Adrift in salt water Then when the sea rises high It’ll take me away to the sky I’ll touch the clouds moving by Then all I’ll see, as I fly Is blue on white Watch the day turn to night While the stars above align I hold onto the ocean’s tide And feel it pulling me inside Circling the planet Yeah, I’ve seen it all before You know I’m floating and feeling stranded It’s where I want to be for sure Below blue on white Wake up in the darkness Yeah, I’ve been here all along As daylight reveals vastness There’s no sign of the shore There’s only blue on white
4.
Name of the Game 04:59
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He was a man who spit in the fan A real high flyer with a wrench on hand The mile high club never got you down And you were chasing your tail around and around It’s all on the rocks, anyway You won for a day and the bookies got paid Your life was the longest though your legacy fades Because betting the horses was the name of the game Earning your wages was no big deal as long as you had something for O.T.B. Making a role in the casinos you played Drinking highballs and getting paid It’s all on the rocks, anyway You won for a day and the bookies got paid The lies that you lived almost did them in your wives and daughters, your next of kin Throwing your money at a ball on a wheel Black or red, it’s a hell of a deal It’s all on the rocks, anyway You won for a day and the bookies got paid Living a life, yeah it was made for one And everyone knew you were a son of a gun You were a son of a gun It’s all on the rocks, anyway You won for a day and the bookies got paid Your life was the longest though your legacy fades Because playing the numbers was the name of the game
5.
Afterglow 04:48
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You see a bird Float across the horizon And picket fences Piercing twilight Through the rearview mirror You see where you’ve been And now you’re rolling onward To nowhere again This night, this lonely road, you’ll travel again The orange and blue Rippled skyline Like a horizontal Dashboard light Living fast forward Until second hand is still And now you’re thinking Is this moment your only thrill? One hundred miles an hour until the day is done Frame after frame On a celluloid reel The smoke and the flames From a burned-out wheel Where are you going And where have you been? It’s got you thinking About the night, the road, its end One hundred miles an hour until the day is done
6.
Picture Show Dreams 04:46
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Passing through the streets After school, it’s half past three In a blue and black hot rod Head to The Forum, art deco facade Through the turnstile and I’ll go Beyond the doors, a picture show View a screen in a black box Recapture my fantasy Is it real or imagined? This pornographic scene It’s made for you and me to see There’s a darkened hall before me Pick a row and find a seat Turning around to see their faces Staring in awe, avoid their gazes Projected light beams surround me Ignite the hall, it’s flickering As I watch, my mind wanders Inside a cinematic dream Is it real or imagined? This pornographic scene It’s made for you and me to see My wild curiosity Is laid bare right in front of me Arousing my imagination The sticky floor, my frustration Into the final double feature The Farmer’s Daughter and the Preacher As I stare, my heart quickens To the beat of the movie screen Is it real or imagined? This pornographic scene It’s made for you and me to see
7.
Midnight Dancer (alt version) 04:01
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about

“The remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were.” — Marcel Proust

I started writing the songs that would become Spectator Sport in late 2017. All are told from the point of view of a teenager or young adult and revolve around a few themes: young male curiosity, infatuation, and self-imposed loneliness. Our narrators are hooked, looking for escape through doorways leading to thrills, spills, and genuine wonder. Listening to the EP brings you into a stationary viewpoint where everything is heard through its parts. In that sense Spectator Sport forms a cycle meant to be listened to in one sitting, like turning the lens of a kaleidoscope; each song reveals another picture.

credits

released April 17, 2019

Published by Frankie Airport Music (ASCAP)
Mixing: Paul DeSilva
Additional mixing: Brian Skeel
Mastered by Chris Graham
Cover art: Roger Brown (1941-1997). Untitled (Theater Interior, Blonde woman, bed, green frame), 1968, oil on canvas and painted wood frame. 273⁄4 in. x 301⁄2 in. © The School of the Art Institute of Chicago and the Brown family

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Pussyft Los Angeles, California

Pussyft crafts thoughtful songs with dynamic layers, blending playful elements of 80s synth pop with distorted, guitar- driven rock and avant-garde dreaminess. The music captures the delicate spaces between memory and anticipation, and the exciting rush of present moment. ... more

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