Too Bad Alaskan!

by Too Bad Alaskan!

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04:42

about

A "musical sketchbook" of my time in Dawson City, Yukon. These demos were written and recorded there.

credits

released January 1, 2011

Matthew Stoker: vocals/ukulele/sometimes everything
Elizabeth Houg: vocals/lyrics
Michael Schroeder: mandolin/guitar

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Matthew Stoker Montreal, Québec

indie pop from montreal

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Contact Matthew Stoker

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Track Name: Talkin Art School Dropout Soulmate-Searchin Blues
Well I'm dropping outta art school I'm dropping out art school
I'm dropping outta art school to find my girl

Well she may be real pretty and hail from Charlotte City
So I'm dropping outta art school to find my girl]

Well I can talk a pretty slick drunken rambling blues,
(carved my way across this country, strumming on my uke)

And there aren't many things that I regret leaving behind
But lately one thing has been on my mind:

I'm a talkin' art school dropout soulmate searchin' blues
Think' it's time I left here, dusted Dawson off my shoes boots

In many ways it's been great living in the wild,
But travelling on well that's more like my style

CHORUS

She may have good taste in hair and she may have dark eyes
and she may have sharp glasses in black frames

my own are made of soapstone, I carved them with my own hands
and it would be an honour to be her man

She may like to read good books and sing good music too,
Maybe someday I'll sing to her this tune

When I've roamed across the country in a van or a pickup truck
I'd steal one if she'd wish me good luck

CHORUS

Canada is really big
But I will find her no matter where she's hid

Canada is really wide
But I would stride across it to stand by her side

and this is just a cheesy song for someone I'll never meet,
so i hope at least it gets her tappin' her feet

So I'm dropping out of art school to find my girl
I'm dropping out of art school to find my girl

I'm leavin art school to find my soulmate
I'm leavin art school art school to find my girl

and when i do i'm pretty sure that she'll mean the world…
so I'm dropping outta art school to find my girl.
Track Name: The Great Stone Face
I'm going out to the mountains to see where the Old Man fell
Won't you come with me there and bring some stories to tell along the way

I'm awful quiet when I'm out in the wilderness
And the White Mountains can seem awful lonely when they're shrouded in mist and missing their...
Their faces now
They're faceless now.

Asleep on I-93 I dream I'm a mountain man
Way back in 1805 when they first surveyed the cliffs in this land

I am 11 and it just came crashing down
that pensive slab of glacial rock slips into a frown

I guess nature reminds us when we're due
And nature will make us pay our dues.

So won't you follow me
Up to the Franklin Notch
So I can touch that empty spot in the rocks

And build me a glass house so
I can watch the decay
from the rock-face

And when all the tourist-traps
are erased off the map,
I’ll still be watching

and missing...
their faces now
we’re faceless now
their faces now
these hills are faceless now.
Track Name: Song For Winter Mornings
this is a
song for winter mornings
when the icicles are long
and your breath comes out cloudy
like cigarette smoke

we've got our hands tucked in our pockets
got boots up to our knees
and our cheeks they are stinging
in the December breeze

but we're on our way to your house
soon i'll grab a ukulele and set up on the couch
and though i don't really know how to play it
i'll keep going til you tell me to stop...

and when we get there
there'll be tea on the stove
and a furry black dog
to sniff at my toes

this Christmas i want
some new guitar strings
so i can play at that house show
and drunkenly sing

"baby,
i'm an anarchist"
weren't we all?
weren't we all as kids?

and some of us still are
and i can still see you
trying to drink curdled coffee
with soymilk out of a mason jar...

so here we are, freezing our hands off in our mittens
and i'm thinking on convictions
like, "just how can i write a folk song,
without living it all along?"

and this goes out to every band i've played with
awkward folks and the native children
of Dartmouth town
may we melt off those winter frowns

so here goes, my apology it comes in droves
"i know i've done every one some small wrong,
so let me sing you a song
for winter mornings
when school is all done
and we have all wanted these days to go on
forever

and sometimes, it felt like they did.
Track Name: The Ballad of Scott Francis
drinking with the poet
and little to show for it
i have been singing songs with the bassists
of all the highschool bands.

sipping on bailey's
i'm perched a pier
thought we were singing about travelling
but my mind is still anchored here.

we have not been as far as we would like to say
but there are some good things coming up for the both of us
some day

skippin rocks
in the city of lakes
here i have found myself an accomplice
to wile away summer days

movin
to new cities
you'll stay here and explore ours
like i never could

got myself something nice
we've got a good thing going
this may be my last summer home
but i'm not worried

i haven't seen either you or the ocean's waves in far too long
so you had better enjoy the view from the ferry when i'm gone.

halifax's harbour always smells so pungent (and that ain't fun)
but you know i almost miss the stench cause i grew up with it all along

buskin' in the summer, always countin' numbers, cookin' breakfast in the nude
or dressed up like a businessman in busted! beat up! leather shoes

lightin' bonfires, guitar strings are wires to tie you to poetry
you don't have to be looking out for for freedom, cause it'll find you, singing

there is gold in dawson's hills and in the dartmouth mansions
summer sun has glinted its last rays upon this town
so make them last
Track Name: Volvo
the wake is held
behind the school

the leaves in the trees
bear witness to the cruel

wind that wants to blow out all the flames
of/and our ever-changing roster of names

of candle wicks and ever-changing names

upon her hood
we place tea lights

and join in prayer
as day turns to night

purple dusk
swallowing grey smoke

boozy breath and
all we've ever known

and from that great grey cloud
there did come

a motorcade, a marching band
with fief and drums

the millionaire, his daughter
and all their fine fair guests

the full string quartet
and the rest of them

the performers.


oh, Volvo
oh how i miss you
how unfortunate
that you got used up like that
but i guess that's the point we all come to
and someday i'll be in your shoes -- or tires, rather

so when it comes time
don't send me out like that
i don't want a marching band
that's never been a part of my plan.