Magazine Avenue

by Magazine Avenue

supported by
/
  • Streaming + Download

    Yo MagAver! Now you can download our first album with 8-tracks in your choice of 320k mp3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire. Danks!

      $5 USD  or more

     

1.
2.
3.
4.
03:07
5.
03:03
6.
7.
8.

about

Our first release! High Fives All Around!

Download and you get a special package feat. the album AND album artwork. It's like you bought it right out of our hands!

credits

released May 17, 2010

Magazine Avenue is:
-David Wardell
--Justin Monnier
---Sam Pelgrift
----Chuck Cronkrite
-----Schuyler Burks

Producer - Jacob Mundell
Engineer - Miles Hendrix
Recorded at Elevated Basement Studios, Inc. in Savannah, GA April-May 2010

Magazine Avenue would like to thank Miles Hendrix for capturing the high-five sound, Jacob Mundell for the high-five support and rock 'n roll for the high fives (and endless groupies).

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

Magazine Avenue Savannah, Georgia

contact / help

Contact Magazine Avenue

Streaming and
Download help

Track Name: A Subtle Song
we don’t need to be an indie band
believe it or not, we aint got no point to prove (yeah)
we don’t wear our clothes just for the brand
we bust out these songs to make the audience move (yeah)

we play tunes in this ol’ city,
look like shit don’t need to be pretty,
our name is short so shout it to the world
(mag ave!)
You wear your skinny pants, you say our cred should be enhanced,
Yeah, that don’t matter, yeah, get up and dance.
That don’t matter, uh, get up and dance.

Now you in thick-rimmed glasses take them off,
See them on our faces? (No!) 20-20 sight.
Yeah you might have some abs like Hasselhoff,
But your nipples need to breathe there, boy,
your shirt’s too tight.

So give this band a chance although we’re not much at a glance,
Hands in the air, c’mon get up and dance.
Hands in the air, c’mon get up and dance.

So flannel wearing bastards do your part,
We’ll give you all a chance here to shine real bright.
Cause if you’re here you know us from the start,
So blog or tweet or text about the stars you saw tonight.

So grab some fuckin’ ants and shove em down your skinny pants!
Cause we’re Mag Ave, you better fucking dance!
Yeah, we’re Mag Ave, you better fucking dance!
Track Name: Wild Turkey Parade
Under the scaffold we shared a beer.
Drank 16 ounces just to feel,
Like an adult slowly losing years.
It’s not depressing if you’re right here.
There are masons that don’t do shit,
I’d give it all to piss where they piss.
There’s your hand on the bottle.
Up. Up and down.
Up. Up and down.

I left my tools, I left em miles and miles away.
At the Wild Turkey Parade nobody is safe.

Oh! Brother! Let’s go home.
Before we miss the tazo snow.
Falls so low. Falls so slowly.
I will never drink again.
I have to say it. Fuck the sun.
There’s your hand on the bottle.

I will never drink again.
Track Name: Sky, My Mother
Bonjour petite jet-set girl
Where you gonna be tonight?
You’ve seen London, you’ve seen France,
I hear NYC’s alright.
You can couche on my couch.
As the cool kids say: that’s tight.
But if you leave here in the morn,
Make sure to douse the light, douse the light.
Hey little jet-set girl
Where you gonna stay?
Hey little jet-set girl
Only for a day…

You’re gonna be an actor, girl
And for you the crowd’s will clap.
You met Kevin Spacey once,
And drank strongbow from the tap.
Now I aint Admiral Ackbar babe,
No this aint no trap (It’s a trap!)
So come here, closer, little girl.
Come here and take a nap, take a nap.
Track Name: Sweet Alexia
I taste the summer
In your wedding dress.
For years to come
You’ll be on my neck.
Sit real still with legs crossed
On all the banks
Where we found our love long lost.

Sweet Alexia,
Let the wedding bells ring.

Forget the habits of history.
For lungs that will never forgive me.
I can see it now in the sunrise
A sweet conceit that victory decries:

The light, the chance, it’s hot it goes
The story, the tale, it flows it grows,
Smokes and smokes on the bathroom floor.
Track Name: Hey!
She’s lookin’ for a man-shaped distraction,
And she can bring ‘em down to their knees,
And, oh god, she be lookin in my direction,
Don’t mess this up cracker please.
So tell me Mr. Wingman, how does it go?
What’s your diagnosis? One, Two, Three Fo’ Sho!

Hey! Hey! Hey!

So, put on that cloche hat of yours.
And we’ll pretend there aint no hootch for miles.
We’ll teach these people how to swing,
Cause here’s the thing, we’re all corrupt gentiles.
So hold on to your hat girl and raise that pregame cup
For despite my nice boy attitude, I came here to
Fuck shit up!

And she knows the exact page where Dumbledore is killed by Snape
And somehow I think that’s cool.
And if I just ruined the book for you, it’s been out for like four or five years and you’re a tool.
Now I can’t mess this up no,
I can’t mess this up for heaven’s sake!
So why you think you dreaming girl?
I just pinched your ass, yeah, you’re awake.
Track Name: I Owe You One
They were friends
First met in a loud crowded hall
And there they sat
Resting backs up against the cinder block wall
He said he wrote songs
And he said he’d write one about her
And he left town
Kiss goodbye, engine start, speeding off in a blur, he said
I owe you one.

She wrote books
She’d send novels and stories and prose
Mind to page,
The heartbroken girl was still strong and composed
And she wrote for him.
Feeding ego’s the way to his heart
And he recalled,
That, god damn it, the promise he made from the start, he said
I owe you one.

A cigarette bounces on quivering lips,
While a pencil quite eagerly dances,
Writing songs about songs and words about words
Forgetting, abandoning chances
And I owe you one.

And they hadn’t talked for about seven months
All ‘cause he was afraid of commitment.
At the end of the day, it all fades away
Just like ice cream on playground equipment,
Melted ice cream on playground equipment,
Chocolate ice cream on playground equipment,
Melted ice cream on playground equipment.
Track Name: Are You Entertained?
You were born to entertain
And you chose to stand upon my stage.
Oh no, oh no. Oh…
Born along the great white plains,
Talent coursing through your every vein.
Oh no, oh no. Oh…

And I can’t help but think that you’re insane.
But with every single thing that you’ve obtained I’ll say:
Are you entertained?

Silver spoon in your mouth with a serrated edge,
Pack up head south to the critical sledge,
Oh no, oh no. Oh…
Warm hearts for a living, entertain for a life
Consume all you want, our abundance so rife.
Oh no, oh no. Oh…

Every once in a while you’ll be free
But an entertainer’s what you’ve come to be
So take a walk, your talent is your cane
But a question’s still lurking in your brain.
Track Name: The Feline and The Hawk
Born of barn-cat mother. Born to be bred.
Damned to greet humility as he cries to be fed

“Father! Father! Where are you?
Mother! Mother! Where’d he get to?

“My sister’s are all pretty, but I was blessed with teeth.
The hawks are not afraid of me; the comic relief!
They will learn to fear me and my thin black coat,
Mother says she’ll love me even if I’m short.

“When I pounce the flowers do not grow.
When I pounce the hawks they will not know.
When I pounce my mother laughs and goes.”
‘Son. You still need to know:
I will see you in the moon, I’ll watch you succeed.
You will grow and grow and grow and then you will lead.