fieldreader:

who wore the dinosaur jacket in the Burrito Brothers?

Sneaky Pete did

fieldreader:

who wore the dinosaur jacket in the Burrito Brothers?

Sneaky Pete did

have I ever told you that this here t-shirt represents a symbol of my individuality and my belief… in personal freedom?

get yours here

Noah and I played an acoustic set, it was fun.

Noah and I played an acoustic set, it was fun.

Anonymous asked: would you actually wear a snakeskin jacket? if not, what is the one thing you own that symbolizes your individuality and belief in personal freedom?

I would wear a snakeskin jacket if I could afford one. comfortably afford one I mean. because if I reeeeaaaallly wanted one I guess I could eventually but it’s definitely not a priority - I have a young son and a guitar fetish and a band that makes no money so my cash goes there.

one thing? my black firebird. it’s modded a bunch and the hand-tooled leather pickguard has my initials in the design. there’s not another one in the world like it, even without the guard, and it’ll only get more scarred and sweatsoaked in the future by my hands. so yeah, I fucking love that thing and it’s only going to get better. made in America out of mahogany by a company founded in 1902 by a guy who started with no formal training (Gibson) + leather pickguard hand-tooled in Texas by a woman named M.K. Holloway + Lollar pickups (p-90 in the neck position, firebird style in the bridge position) + an electronics bypass switch that gives me the firebird pickup straight to the jack in place of one of the tone knobs (other one turned into master tone) + added a Bigsby b5 vibrato + replaced the nut with a bone one. strung up with 12 gauge strings. it’s as flamboyant and personal to me as Sailor Ripley’s snakeskin jacket.

jkbwhatever:

I was first exposed to Roy Orbitron two winters ago. It was in the midst of a bitter depression; I was feeling ambiguously ‘stuck,’ and my habit of not leaving the house for days at a time was just starting to blossom. So it was to everyone’s surprise—mine included—when I got into a car and drove over an hour to a basement show in Ewing, New Jersey in the middle of a snowstorm. I went in only knowing that a friend was opening and that he said the rest of the bands were worth staying for. I’d fumbled around online beforehand and caught snippets of each act, including a band with a hilarious name who sounded like a rougher Magnetic Fields or The National on a whole bunch of codeine, and who had a great song called “Fuck College”. Then a little after midnight, I saw frontman Conor Meara stumble onstage alone with an electric guitar and a half-empty beer, and I became privy to the fuzzed-out rock and roll magic of Roy Orbitron.

Being released this week (but already available on Bandcamp), Jeffery Lynne is the newest album from Trentonites Roy Orbitron, and at the very least it’s a logical next step in the ‘Traveling Wilburys’-themed EPs they’ve released over the past year and a half. It’s clearly a departure of sorts—there are a few more bells and whistles, as well as heavier involvement from fewer musicians, and overall it feels like Roy Orbitron is becoming more of a band than a project. But despite all this, Lynne might be the rawest, most potent collection of songs they’ve recorded thus far. It doesn’t so much flow as barrel through itself, with bits like “Rain Jawn” and “Jersey Sliz” serving as self-condemnation and pointed accusations behind the nonstop splash of cymbals and squeals of violins, guitars, and keys. Even some of the ‘slow’ songs refuse to be tamed: Meara’s distinct, erratic guitarwork on the album’s midpoint “Halfway” are quickly stifled by the howls of ‘I’ll meet you halfway,’ themselves trapped behind a wall of distortion.

The primary difference in soundscape comes from the lineup of Jersey vets (including noisemakers Dave Hallinger of Knights Templar and Steven Kyle Sandler, AKA Radar Noon) who support Meara’s bitter yet enjoyable 17-minute joyride through the rougher parts of metaphorical gardening, relationships, and New Jersey. Whereas Roy Orbitron’s previous albums George Harrison and Thomas Earl Petty featured a laundry list of contributors and locations, Jeffery Lynne slims it down to five band members in two studios. Even though violinist Noah Baum and guitarist Dave Hallinger aren’t new additions to the lineup, the constant presence of all members allows for more consistent songwriting and a tighter final product. And just because there are fewer musicians doesn’t mean there’s less going on. Meara has always been a fan of the intensely layered lo-fi sound that evokes mental images of hipsters in leather jackets, but he also loves kicking that music in the ass and warping it to fit the boundaries of something you can call ‘rock n roll’ without a hint of jest. This leads to interesting developments such as the deceptively waltzy “The Use”, “Jersey Sliz”’s manic tempo changes, and multi-tracked vocals at every turn which more often than not echo out into oblivion.

Jeffrey Lynne is more “Evil Woman” than “Mr. Blue Sky,” but there’s a certain sense of jaded humor fueling the boozy fire. This can be seen not only in the lyrics to songs like the masterfully re-recorded “Fuck College” but also at the fringes of the music. There’s the doped-out vocal track assaulting “Jersey Sliz”’s doped-out titular character, the apathetic three-note ‘NBC’ chime that sneaks its way into “Must-See TV”, and the ending of “Rain Jawn”—a false start to the opener of last year’s George Harrison EP, “Swallow.” In the end, there’s a humanity behind the balls-to-the-wall-ness of this record that’s almost playful at times, which serves as a soft yin to the album’s hard yang. And while it’s better to experience Jeffrey Lynne from front to back than to go hunting for individual tracks, just like Meara and (most of) the women in his songs, you’ll probably be missing it as soon as its over.

Roy Orbitron

Roy Orbitron

Roy Orbitron “Sailor Ripley” t-shirt now available in our online store: http://royorbitron.bandcamp.com/merch

Sailor by Niki Love, Glass Pope Roy logo, printed by Wreckless Press in Long Branch NJ

hey we got new Roy Orbitron shirts today! Sailor Ripley design by tumblr’s own annefrankzappa, miss Niki Love, with the glasspope logo. they’ll be up on the bandcamp store tomorrow.

did I ever tell you this here t-shirt represents a symbol of my individuality and my belief… in personal freedom?

if you say you’re in some trouble, son, you know that i’m your man
i’d do anything to help you get through
but if it’s woman problems that you’re havin’, i’ll tell you what to do
it’s some advice my daddy give me and i’ll pass it on to you

swallow it deep down with a whiskey chaser
don’t ever cry where anyone can hear
swallow it deep down with a whiskey chaser
and find someplace to hide and disappear

it worked for my dear daddy and it’s since worked fine for me
it’s a piece of age-old wisdom passed down through family
so if your lady’s left you for your dog or your best friend
and advice is what you’re seekin’ i will likely recommend

swallow it deep down with a whiskey chaser
don’t ever cry where anyone can hear
swallow it deep down with a whiskey chaser
and find some place to hide and disappear

well your grandaddy weren’t a man to heed his own advice
he was drunk and surly and rarely ever nice
my ma she had run off with the sheriff in our town
and he gut-shot my daddy when he went to track him down

swallow it deep down with a whiskey chaser
don’t ever cry where anyone can hear
swallow it deep down with a whiskey chaser
and find some place to hide and disappear

i knelt down beside him and i began to cry
he grabbed me by the collar and he looked me in the eye
i knew these would be his last words before he’s dead
still hangin’ on my collar and coughin’ blood he said

swallow it deep down with a whiskey chaser
don’t ever cry where anyone can hear
swallow it deep down with a whiskey chaser
and find some place to hide and disappear

Jack McGill was about 2 years old
his daddy won him in a hand of Texas hold ‘em
his mama pushed him out on a figure-8 track
when the doctor slapped his ass yeah he hit him right back

you’ve never met a boy this mean
he was never on the titty, drank gasoline
he had an old six-shooter instead of toys
everybody knows
he’s a bad bad boy

by the time he was 3 he was boostin’ cars
his daddy always said that he’d never get far
he’d throw a brick on the pedals and mash the gears
by the time he was 7 he’d served 10 years

Jack left home when he turned 10
said he’d never come back home again
he took his old six-shooter to the liquor store
he downed a bottle of rye then he stole ten more

you’ve never met a boy this mean
he was never on the titty, drank gasoline
he had an old six-shooter instead of toys
everybody knows
he’s a bad bad boy
on the road when things got hard
he’d rob a couple of highway bars
he’d put Hank on the juke and play it loud
then tell the whole bar to get on the ground

Jack got shot when he was 23
tobacco field in west Tennessee
he laid on his back starin’ at the sky
never had the time to be afraid to die

you’ve never met a boy this mean
he was never on the titty, drank gasoline
he had an old six-shooter instead of toys
everybody knows
he’s a bad bad boy