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The Sun's Gotta Shine

by The Foghorns

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    ACTUALLY, you get the complete digital album immediately. Plus liner notes. The physical CD will not ship until May 7, 2015, when the album is officially released, but digital files are a magical thing that we think you should have immediately.
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I ain’t never beat a man didn’t ask for it twice. I ain’t never looked to long at another man’s wife. Ain’t I a man. Well I moved myself to the big city to escape small town monopolies. There’s only two jobs where I come from, you either rob from the sick or you sell to children. Makes it hard to be a man. But ain’t I a man. Well I got here to find it was even worse. They still rob from the sick but they do it in church. What they sell to kids it don’t even work. Only read what can fit on a shirt. And they climb up mountains to get buried alive. Sing about living in 1905. 9 out of 10 can’t take a shit on their own. They’re utterly helpless when they ain’t on their phones. And I ain’t never met a man here. But ain’t I a man. And you say they’re beautiful. I say babies are beautiful. We are all born beautiful. But sometime you gotta grow up, you gotta be a man. While I was gone my home town it got worse. Little boy stood up tall said we won’t pay you to work. Said you can scream all you want but it’s money I hear. Said goodbye Wisconsin Kansas is here. So I’m stuck in the city where the geeks are kings. They’ve got all the morals of Louis the XIV. They don’t pay no taxes send their kids overseas so they don’t have to see the poor sleeping in the streets. Makes it hard to be a man. But ain’t I a man. I’ve seen protests seen some broken glass. Heard a couple kids shout save the middle class. They said we want to live like our parents lived you got us begging for scraps we want to live like men but the kids got sprayed and they got locked up and they learned to stay down and they learned to shut up. Hard time to be a man. But ain’t I a man
Go back to Kansas. Koch back to Kansas. You wanted a fight alright you got a fight. But this machine don’t kill fascists so I brought dynamite. Yeah I guess I got that mongrel blood. When my grandma served your grandma she was told to wear gloves. But when my grandpa had enough he had to go on strike. And when striking did not work he got out dynamite. So I say it now you black haired friends unite. These Kansas Kochs have taken all our rights. And if we can’t even stop them by going out on strike. It’s time to get out grandpa’s sticks of dynamite. My grandma taught me how to read the news when it’s holding lies. And my grandpa taught me when to light the fuse of dynamite. We ain’t no band of brothers, we’ve got to governors for hire. We’re the angry sons and daughters of the Molly Maguires. Go back to Kansas, Koch.
400 Dollars 08:14
If I had $400, I would buy me a freezer full of steak. What do you do with the money you make? Show me your arm. You spent $400 on a picture of a snake. The money you make. I’ve been playing music, and I ain’t been paid. I’ve playing music and my belly aches. The money you make.
Lullaby 07:34
Television reflecting on the wall, and I whisper you’re too pretty for the phone. But I can’t picture you by how you talk and I wake up on the couch alone. And in the morning when I wake and the kids they watch me shave and I know there’s no escape, you’ll be burning up with sleep with your husband not with me but there’s just too much at stake and we both go along. Wife’s in the shower and I’m hoping you might call. Cringe as I hear her singing out our song. I think of what we did the other night. Exciting as it was I can’t believe that it was wrong. Been a week and I ain’t seen your face and I find myself driving by your place. I see your husband standing on the porch. I feel bad but I cannot feel ashamed. Tell me that you love me when the morning comes. And when the morning comes. Oh God I hope the morning never comes.
Oh you beautiful soul. Before you grow old. I want you to know. That everyday I wake and I see you I feel in my bones a peace that I never dreamed of, I want you to know that you’re a beautiful soul. Oh, you beautiful soul. How quickly you grow. You beautiful soul. And I want you to know. That I owe you everything. I owe you everything. You’re a beautiful soul.
I took the 4 train to meet my girl up in Harlem. Because she had to work late and she said this was a problem. Onto the island, heading north. Man turns to me says how much is that watch worth. He says I hear that white men got insurance for their jewelry. Says can you hear me. I say I ain’t got anything on me. He says motherfucker. The train stops. I got out. He gets out. I go North you know he goes North with me. The avenue’s fine, but I have to turn right and when I do, there’s no one but us. And he says white bitch. He says give me that watch and I’m walking. He says hey! He says if you make me ask you again you ain’t never getting up. He says turn around. And I get lucky. Up at five to take the train to Burnside. To teach in the Bronx where I am unqualified. And I work all day and into the night. My students say I’m crazy to be out there at night. And I’m waiting for the train and I’m out the along and a man in a t-shirt in the cold he says Oye. A big dude in a t-shirt in the cold he says oye. He says don’t you fucking move. I see he flash he says you see this dick in my hand. He says you stand there don’t you move. A lot of white boys end up on the tracks let me see that little white ass. He says motherfucker. Don’t you move. He says you gonna die. And I get lucky. Well I love Lou Reed and I love Bo Diddley. But the shit they sing it don’t happen to me. And there ain’t no moral but sometimes dignity. You can do what I did but you better get lucky. And if you can’t get lucky please get up. If you can’t get lucky please get up.
(Lyrics by Levi Fuller with Bart accidentally changing some) This murder won’t hurt you baby. This murder is a peaceful gathering of crows. It’s not the same. I don’t know where they got that name. I don’t know where they got that name. Does a gathering of blackness make you think of a killing? Make you think of killing? Murder won’t hurt you baby.
Alfred the elephant loves you. Alfred the elephant loves you. He sometimes gets sad. That’s why he’s blue. He sometimes gets sad but he still loves you. Alfred the elephant loves you. He’s got no bones so he can’t walk. He’s got no heart, so he can’t talk. He’s got big ears and bright green toes. He’s got no brain but that don’t show. Alfred the elephant loves you. He sometimes gets sad. That’s why he’s blue. He sometimes gets sad, but Alfred the elephant still loves you.


About this music:

Alana at the Conor Byrne, JJ at Blue Moon, and Mamma Casserole at Comet Tavern, along with Levi Fuller at Ball of Wax and Greg Vandy from KEXP’s show The Roadhouse all encouraged us and gave us forums for live performances over the four years that it took to develop this sound. We are extremely grateful for their support. And we are extremely grateful that fans have paid money and devoted the energy to head out into the very late night and catch our shows.

More about this music:

This is our first experience with track recording in the last decade. We prided ourselves on being a live band and on touring long and hard. The amazing Charles Bork has recorded us using mono quarter inch technology, and we love those records. But this CD, (and the second part of it, which will be released later this year), is a digital recording.

Colin J. Nelson recorded everything. Colin and Bart produced the record. Bart got guidance from Jon Rooney of Virgin of the Birds. Through digital recording, we were able to overdub vocals, and Peter Colclasure flew out from his new home in California to contribute his accordion and piano playing.

As for long hard touring, there are towns we owe a lot to: Edinburgh, Reykjavik, London, Copenhagen, Cleveland, New York City, San Diego. Touring in the past was fantastic. But the experience of living our lives in Seattle, experiencing the day to day, being there for each other and for family and friends… this music is a product of that. Of living in one place and putting down roots.


released May 7, 2015

Bart Cameron: vocals, guitars, harmonica
Jason Kopec: drums, pots and pans
Ken Nottingham: bass
Lauren Trew: bass clarinet, vocals
Colin Nelson: choir-leader, percussion
Matthew Ploszaj: choir
Casey Ruff: choir
David Rossman: choir on Ain’t I a Man
Peter Colclasure: piano, accordion.

Recorded by Colin J. Nelson at Her Car Studios. Mastered by Carl Saff.


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The Foghorns Seattle, Washington

Landing in Seattle via Iceland, Wisconsin and Brooklyn, The Foghorns are a very late night folk and roots rock octet. Bart Cameron writes the songs, a rag tag choir (nicknamed Bucket o Bourbon Choir), provides harmonies, rhythm, and broken glass, and Lauren Trew demonstrates the bass clarinet should be part of rock.While insane touring decreased in 2012, live shows are still a focus. ... more

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