by Hot Dad Jesus & Friends

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YYC '13 Summer Lovin' three folks with a (post-neo-bastard?) folk project.
Aimed for an LP. Settled for a half-disjunct EP. Tracks recorded across an assortment of members' basements as parents grew tired of drums and shouting.

Thanks to Connor Wilson for lending us his guitar.

Hot Dad Jesus & Friends is:
Hot Dad Jesus: Band Leader; Guitars, bass, vocals, programming, trumpet
DrumBergler: Creative Director; Drums, lip smacking, destruction
Lore-Wren Wilson: Producer; French horn, arrangements, recording, mixing, destruction and patience.
BanjoBoy: Banjo, vocals
AccordiJen: Accordion, vocals
Wrenoire: Vocals

All music and lyrics written by Hot Dad Jesus except for music on "Thighs" (BanjoBoy+AccordiJen) & Lyrics on "ever-grace"
Cover art and concept by DrumBergler


released September 8, 2013

Released as part of the bnnybywrx collective initiative.




B)NNY B)Y Calgary, Alberta


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Track Name: Intro
JAY E S U S 'f
Track Name: Thighs
I mow the lawn
At forty-five degrees
Down tall cans a'
Unsweetened iced tea

I mow between gravel, tree bed and cut of canola field
I catch the wild seed in the furthest lap
Throws its guts up in surprise ecstasy

The seed settles in my iced tea
And by the time the summer's gone
I'm good I'm gone myself

Dead in the dirt
Clean as I'll ever be

Canola cummin' out m'mouth
Yellow coaxed out my ears in bolts
By the last of the long summer sun

Cummin' out m'mouth
Yellow coaxed out my ears in bolts
By the last of the long summer sun

Like sitting on the hood with sweaty thighs
Like the weeds in the driveway
The purpose we serve is perhaps beyond and backward
But I'm too tired to know much better

Dead in the dirt
Clean as I'll ever be
Track Name: S H F Y
I wrote
A Haiku
For You

Starts With Silk
Ends With Lies
Track Name: Slough Twang for Scott Stokes
Last night I dreamt I brought back my deceased best friend to life because Peter Mansbridge was throwing a cool soda and sandwich combo out into the crowd like a wedding bouquet so of course I caught it but just before Phil and I believe he was upset but I needed it more so I entered the chalet and traversed the back room water pipes and while climbing I find a large and clean bolt like no grease but not particularly lustrous pretty dark so I keep moving dodging grunts and paint and striking competing newscasters in the back of the skulls with my bolt as they wage paintball wars and finally I make it to an RV where I see he and he not me and moving swiftly through the chalet and the shrinking parlours I come face to dimpled lower back with his murderess a drunken girl with an asthmatic attack in a bathing suit face down in the hot tub and Scott trying to turn her over but her throngs and needles suffusing the juice from his thick and powerful shoulder blades his Bottlecap glasses shucked from his brow to the bottom of the cold-cloth-to-the-forehead-warm kinda hot tub and then she cackles and takes flight and he just floats like a buoy like a knotted cloth of flesh wrapped sailor snug around a twice divorced and thrice orphaned buoy coasting in the middle of the Acheron so I throw my bolt in a long lazy arc and it strikes the witch into the war of paint and she's trampled until eyeballs zing under feet like candy sweet spilling and suddenly the war is over because there is no ground to take just opa-broke discs and squelching sprouts and it is a quiet celebration no sounds no shouts and I am just there wet up to waist trying to hug Scott's barrel chest to heave him from the frost-rendered surface of this burrow he's bobbing in and yet somehow we've also sat down to speak in my struggle and he hasn't said much he's just been grateful to see me wants me to say hi to his friends and some family and there's hot tea and wifi and I tell him I just came by to bring you lunch let's share a soda lets get our munch on but when I wake my back is pinched and hip torrent knotted and my waist is wet with sweat down and I realize he never drowned but I nearly did in trying to bring lunch to that god damn kid I miss you and I wish your passing wasn't some mystery I wish these paths and gods and the ilk of the vinyl and the stuttering slamming doors was clearer to me and I wish you were here with me, because a foot is too much sandwich for me here take a piece let's talk about anything.
Track Name: The Pup That Barks / Northern Hexposure / Heavy Hoove
The pup that barks'll grow into the hound that bays

A hot bridge of blood between my nose and the hardwood flows
finds the grooves and gouges
wraps sticky foundation 'round the legs'f the leather couches

Use your big boy voice
Not your outdoor voice
Use your big boy voice
You're a big boy, boy

Northern hexposure

My truck it won't get into gear
Unless my stereo's going first
And nah it ain't a feature
Just quiet driving's the goddamn worst

And you could call it greasy
That you'd ease your piece in 'er mouth
In the half collapsed heap of tent
But she didn't mind she was sleeping anyhow

Heavyset hoove on heaving chest

The last time we met
a ribbed hose from the tailpipe swanning through the moonroof proved
that love might be enough
It seems the smoke and the sounds undulate
they swell in song and they dance
all knotted into a sense of romance
when you're dying
the squeaky door does its thing
A low and warm singing bowl rings
He'll see you now