Slaughter Beach, Dog - Birdie (Full Album Stream)

[@madeleinep.828]

Listening to Slaughter Beach, Dog for the first time feels like discovering hidden Modern Baseball songs that you had no idea even existed.

[@calebbryan8600]

Can definitely relate, it's love at first listen

[@horse_dog]

i personally cannot relate. the only slaughter beach song that i think sounds like a mobo song is “mall rat semi-annual.”

[@sameoldsameoldsmall5193]

what is a baseball song

[@StephaneLevs]

@@sameoldsameoldsmall5193 if this isnt sarcasm, Modern Baseball was a band (and the singer of Slaughter Beach, Dog was one of them!)

[@JetBlack623]

In a way since it’s Jake, yeah, but SB,D is so much more mature. Focused on telling folk-songs and stories rather than tales of self-deprecation, sadness, old flames, and growing up. It’s vastly different in what it wants to say

[@dualtahunter4043]

Buttercup and acolyte are legit two of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard

[@leexin67]

i love how serene this feels

[@bsmrocks]

its just lovely right

[@jamessimmons9379]

Man it just doesn't get much better than this.

[@jonathanshimer1815]

Yet

[@ericy1]

i feel like mobo making a new banger album would be better

[@jonathanshimer1815]

@@ericy1 you're spittin straight facts

[@NoRestForAlan]

I listen to this record over and over and over

[@vcp6189]

A masterpiece, I’m so in love I wanna cry.

[@PunkSentry]

1. Phoenix 0:00 2. Gold and Green 4:35 3. Pretty O.K. 7:43 4. Bad Beer 11:07 5. Shapes I Know 14:43 6. Sleepwalking 19:15 7. Fish Fry 22:12 8. Buttercup 26:49 9. Friend Song 31:29 10. Acolyte 33:46

[@mivey8135]

thank you

[@qwantry]

Each time I listen to this album I fall in love with it more and more

[@matthiasvanherk9667]

Lyrics: PHEONIX From the corner of Third and Washington, you can’t see where your brother went, out somewhere past the beat cops and beautiful women who work for the government. They walk by in air-conditioned tunnels that archive above the streets, while I sweat in my hot coffee and daydream about how we might meet. Your mother asked for a picture, she says today is your birthday in some strung-out western stutter, making all the world her ashtray. She adjusts her aviators with an absent shake of hand. Tilts the camera 45 degrees and calls out modelling commands. When we used to go to parties, you’d spend an hour before the mirror. And I’d drink your gin and ask about your high school souvenirs; tacked on the wall above the bed - an old inkjet collage, but you were never much for talking, so I knelt before your mirage. We’d walk the three blocks westbound in the moonlit Philly fall. And the party would be grand, all our friends would grin with pride, all our friends would be so drunk and have such pleasant things to say. And at last, we’d see each other in the way we had dreamed to be seen. Those nights, your house kept secrets, we’d stumble up the stairs. My hands tore through your records, while your hands unpinned your hair. The both of us still green enough to remove the other’s clothes; quiet signal of devotion that I am happy to have known. GOLD AND GREEN 4:35 Put my best shoes and meet mother in the kitchen. Follow sister, stomping plastic; empty milk gallon graveyard, recycling rockstars, soldiers of the lord. Stare out my window at the neighbours at night, serpentine explanations for why I stayed out of sight. Rosemary Robinson, my stars and my sun. Hannah and I, in the cemetery aisles overcome with belief that everything we’d eat was good and clean, we’d spit our seeds. Gonna make this garden grow inch by inch and row by row, row by row. Early winter morning, Beau puts on the coffee, making records in my bedroom. Tinfoil in the heat vents, get high in the basement, sing into my mouth. Perched on the counter in our shorts and our socks, share a smoke on the sofa and blow a kiss to the cops. Here, let me move the kitchen table aside, Heaven Hill in the freezer with the bags stamped beneath our eyes, opened miles wide. And all we’d see was gold and green. Gonna make this garden grow inch by inch and row by row, row by row PRETTY OKAY 7:43 My family left the city in the year 2004, yeah, the bishop spun my mother round and pushed her out the door. And the blindfold was tied, a double knot, she’s peeking out of the Goodwill parking lot. Lewis was the only friend I made for all that year, his father watched cartoons and constructed castles from empty cans of beer after work at the MDSHA; the sun danced off his reflector vest all day. And everything was fine, everything was good, everything was pretty okay! Lewis let us skateboard to meet Jay so I could see his darkened room all full of porn and ICP CDs. The Hewlett-Packard glowed, the double dare, the model in his desktop background bare. We rode home and climbed the hill to Lewis’ double-wide. His father asked if he had filled that hole in the backyard, he said ‘no’ and I followed to his room. His mother’s steady stream of filtered cigarette smoke loomed. He sat down on his bed, the sunset gave way to the stars, then Lewis taught me how to play guitar. And everything was fine, everything was good, everything was pretty okay. Everything was fine, oh, everything was good, everything was pretty okay! Lewis failed in algebra, he failed in English too. He had no middle name and no desire to go to college, so he’d sit and wait patiently to leave, pretending to be listening carefully. BAD BEER 11:07 I never thought that I could be one of the people on T.V. I never thought that I could live like them and have my friends and sleep with them to, so I abstained ‘til I met you. I never mentioned anything about the songs that I would sing over the summer when we’d go on tour and sleep on floors and drink the bad beer, I think I left it unclear. Everything new is a little bit bad and everything old turns you off. I can’t take all these locals, Annie, when all they do is scoff at us. Anyway, here’s where I gotta get gone, be sure that you lock all the doors. I love looking at your pictures, but I still wish I brought more. And then you saw this little kid let out a whisper while he hid. Big box of candy on the Broad Street train, his dad complained of all of these teens, stuck-up and glued to their screens. You never told me how it felt, when you were crying by yourself, all of the people on the crosstown bus loop, staring at you, patting your knees, saying, ‘I’m sorry, sweetie’. Everything new is a little bit bad and everything old turns you off. If we could sell these freakin t-shirts, baby, I might come home with a bit more money. Anyway, here’s where I gotta get gone, be sure that you lock all the doors. I love looking at your pictures, but I still wish I brought more. SHAPES I KNOW 14:43 Every day the bus comes and I start to lose it. All the other kids stop making out when I sit down. Staring at the T.V. in his socks, she leans in, tying up her bathrobe in the dark of the early morning. Blow my breath out on the window, use a finger to fill the frame of shapes I know, the road is slick with snow and the grocery store is closed. Yuppies in the prefabs holding hands at midnight. Fuckers in their fast cars trading head by moonlight. Finger in the buck, knife in my bag from granddad. Jacking up the rent all down my block, so I don’t feel that bad. Blow my breath out on the window in the cruiser with lights off, the station looks the same, the night clerk calls my name and the phone accepts my change. Emily decides she’s staying home this evening. Mama doesn’t like that kinda lip she’s steaming. Caught cutting up the dress Aunt Julie bought from Boscov’s. Back of Daddy’s hand on Christmas Eve in the moonlit garage. Blows her breath out on the window, use her finger to fill the frame of shapes she knows, the road is slick with snow and the grocery store is closed. SLEEPWALKING 19:15 Do you want to get that drink? I’ve gotta finish up this thing. He’s taking all the turns too fast, he’s driving down a one-way street, but the wrong way, I think. Everybody here’s insane, remember on my parent’s lawn? Remember in the woods in West Virginia? I think he’s still in Echo Park, I think he’s in the living room. He’s nervous and the coffee’s cold, everybody’s still asleep at the hotel. My God, he says it’s like a T.V. show, he says it’s like a real bad dream, he says he never truly learned how to network. Oh, you know we’ll call off show, we’ll play like we’re real big stars, but I don’t know, man, can’t a guy just drink in peace? Angeles riddles me this, ‘¿Por qué completar sus clases?’ The kid’s a dick, he’s counting the cash in public. She’s calling now, she’s freaking out, she’s trying really hard this time but the picture makes it looks like we’re in love. And everybody thinks it’s great, but I don’t think it’s all that good. I don’t think you care so much, I don’t think you miss me when you say so. Wake up! You’re looking like your fast asleep, you’re walking like your sleepwalking, you’re talking like your sleep-talking.

[@matthiasvanherk9667]

FISH FRY 22:12 Stood up outside the fish fry, hailed the Bahamian taxi driver. Furnished my dollar, twenty-five, hopped on the number ten for a quick ride into the dull night, singing praise songs from the backseat under cold fluorescent light. Mostly at night, I can’t ignore the feeling of wishing you were with me, all of my friends insisted I should really be spending some time alone; assessing my thoughts, completing emotional calculations, deriving psychological sums and suffering slow. One more drink, my heart sinks. Eight weeks gone, your ma’s front lawn. White House Beach, I can’t speak. Delaware, where, oh, where are we. Move out to 52nd Street, put all my things in Jeff’s new basement. See you before I up and leave, tear out my hair and walk home wasted. Sleep through the alarm, in the morning I still taste it, my good luck charm, head off to 30th Street Station. One more drink, my heart sinks. Eight weeks gone, your ma’s front lawn. White House Beach, I can’t speak. Delaware, where, oh, where are we. I had that dream again last night, in the convenience store, there is no window in this room. Get up undressed, make and educated guess if it is morning yet, there’s something I don’t quite get. One more drink, my heart sinks. Eight weeks gone, your ma’s front lawn. White House Beach, I can’t speak. Delaware, where, oh, where are we. BUTTERCUP 26:49 There’s a woman on the porch with a bottle and a bag and a box of Lucky’s Chinese. She’s asleep and the sun is peeking from behind the homes on the other side of the street. I lock up and fuck off, survey the scene, little bugs start biting at my skin. There’s spray paint on the doors of the neighbours with the numbered window decals from last Halloween. Last night, at the bar, at a table in the backyard where the townies could not overhear, we made our exchange; how little we have changed - anxious and unsure and weird. A good friend says goodbye, we go inside and you scratch at an old wound. You ask, ‘How the hell, if I felt like I felt with you, did I move on so soon?’. Then a glass hits the floor, from here I see the door and we know that it’s our time to leave. We wait for your ride with you standing by my side and you know it ain’t me that you need. FRIEND SONG 31:29 It’s nice to be home, it’s nice to indulge in new interests. Finish the gin, plug in a circular saw and get down to business. I usually don’t care who says what on the internet, I don’t usually regret, but I’m often afraid and anxious that all this is endless, living inside spaces where all disagreements are ever so briefly suspended. Sometimes, I suspect in some ways, I would rather not wake up after sleeping but you make me feel loved. I still like to look at your pictures. Heaven is soft, hell is short walk; Indiana is twelve hours from home. I wish I could say that I know what you wanna hear and then say it, then say it again like a lullaby. ACOLYTE 33:46 You won’t leave the table, she won’t leave your mind. Gotta get out of Ohio, feeling short on time. Eyeball your inheritance, dead stare at the bar. Put back one more, stumble under the stars. We could fly to Ireland, you know I’m good for the ticket, try to smirk but you’re smiling, know I’ll stick with it. Annie, I want you to marry me, we’ll wait a few years. I don’t mean to frighten you, I just wanna be clear. She’s a drink behind you, wander off to the stairs. Ten bucks for the last game, suck smoke from the air. Man, it cuts like a dull knife when you’re young and you’re told, ‘makes sense when you’re older’. Darling, let’s get old. I’d say you look tired. Sing, my secret choir. Soak my scrapes and sleep tight. Sing, my brave acolyte.

[@saki7781]

oh man this is always so beautiful and calming. i listen to this whenever my brain gets too anxious and it does such a good job of shutting up the stream and it just brings so much peace to my heart.

[@Shirlocanyougo]

Laaaj Was P lo @ is p lol pp m. Pl Lopo Ppp Poppploppzp

[@holdthis2964]

saw these guys open for tim kasher or something a very long time ago at the first unitarian was not impressed the sound at the venue blew balls. heard 'your cat" on spotify radio and remembered the band name. really great tunes hope you guys are still making music 'cause i want more.

[@ShadyPlaysPC]

truly a work of art

[@Skyviking]

Wow! A side project based in n the fictional place called Slaughter Beach. There actually is a Slaughter Beach in Delaware where I grew up. My family has a house on that beach. I love you used that name for a band!❤️

[@mr.patrick6392]

don't you guys have a bunch of horseshoe crabs up there on slaughter beach?

[@SenorEscaso]

That's actually the beach that Jake got the name from. He said he'd see signs for Slaughter Beach while driving through Delaware to and fro his parents' house and he liked the name.

[@Skyviking]

@@mr.patrick6392 yes! One of the main breeding grounds for horseshoe crabs n the world.

[@tofunhway]

i used to listen to this,every morning i wake up, open up my computer and just listen to this whilst i listen i join discord vcs with my friends and just sing it to them. For a year i haven't done those things. I miss everything related to them. the pressure and stress of schools are terrifying but just having this video on loop with my earphones on and just laying on the floor thinking bout the time that I have spent. I miss them,but do they miss me? Turns out they dont..but hey! they are happy with their other friends in school. i am stressed as hell from school but i can get through it. I still miss them a lot because they being a part of my life was a chapter of my book. a very important one. even tho they left me i think they left me for the happiness everyone is searching for... "Every good thing must come to an end" - Stan from the Cool Gang.

[@ragimm.1143]

Real

[@Hyperkooki]

tell me why i dont like modern baseball that much but love this with all my soul

[@OffYourTopic]

This album means a lot to me

[@vonathemampire]

This is a beautiful record in so many ways.

[@benjaminmackenzie5043]

Tf how do you not have more views?

[@doyoan8236]

Thank you for this!!

[@Dead._._.Bat._.c]

Its funny that i love mobo to death but for some reason i like slaughter beach more it feels like the after, the now now and its beautiful

[@Jayisafunkydude]

These songs are so sad they make my stomach hurt.

[@spiderheist]

pog

[@tofunhway]

pov:u came from wilbur soot

[@ChucktheDuck-hs6fc]

this is great

[@kevinflagler4316]

Really good. Can tell he's a fan of John K. Samson.

[@kevinflagler4316]

You should listen to his band, The Weakerthans as well then!

[@OneFlewCuckoo]

HOLY COW, THEY LIKE JETS TO BRAZIL TOO!? I love Blake Schwarzenbach

[@ragimm.1143]

Beautiful

[@ColinSlippers]

its like modern baseball, gaslight anthem, and dr. dog had a kid

[@yuki436]

im not crying you're crying

[@mivey8135]

we both are crying

[@StephaneLevs]

*virtual hug*

[@jf5251]

no u . . . yeah im crying . . .

[@doyoan8236]

Beauty

[@aarontgunn]

Just came across this. I don’t know what to say.

[@nickhopwood4233]

So is this kind of like aaron west

[@stusis]

#2022

[@leobunting8035]

sounds like pedro the lion mega loads

[@tylerjafelice]

Leo Bunting Jake has referenced Pedro as a huge influence before, but this is still amazing. But yea if anyone likes this and hasn't heard Pedro, go check out Winners Never Quit immediately.

[@tacocat8884]

wat

[@girlysoundy]

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