Basement Sessions

by Jules Vincent

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about

Recordings from our rehearsal space: a basement, hence the name. Nothing really serious here, just some low quality recordings of songs in the middle of the development/learning stages. Musicianship is shoddy and were half winging it on some of these, but if you ever want to hear how our songs have developed over time these recordings will give you just that.

credits

released 25 January 2013

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license

Some rights reserved. Please refer to individual track pages for license info.

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about

Jules Vincent Beverly, Massachusetts

Jules Vincent is:
Liam Beaudoin - Vocals, Bass, Guitar, Sampler
Owen Bolas - Synths, Sampler
Alex D'alfonso - Drums
Alex Walsh - Guitar, Keyboards, Vocals

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Contact Jules Vincent

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Track Name: No Hope For Tall Folk (Early Rehearsal Recording)
Papa said “now don’t fall into the well”
Papa said “now you’ll just grow up swell”
Papa said “now don’t go into the well”
I fell, I fell, I fell, I

Fascinating as one comes aware
Rattling with insipid air
Stretching out and through
Broken physical form for you

Free floating, free loathing
Writhing in atramentous spray
Contorting, controlling
In starvation we will all decay

Abrasion scarring eager eyes
The young grow old and cut their ties
Old men weep for aging desert tales
Fill blood streams with their drink and the dirt on their nails

Poisoning lungs and deepening debts
The longer we live the harder it gets
Right becomes wrong and naiveties left
And breaking my good word will hang on my breathe

No place for loyalty when we’re coming of age
History dropped by those with hungered ways
The brighter my vision the darker my sight
I don’t like this new place it’s too black and white

It’s never so simple, to think is cockeyed
It can’t be thrown to each end of a divide
The tall ones are all blind
It’s the middle ground they can’t find
like we can, we can
like we can, we can

We can see when they all pick a side
With blindfolds on they all walk in a line
The sheep will be lambs to the slaughter
Heads bitten off by their sons and their daughters

In or out or any other way
There may be a time when we betray
Monoliths and looming tradition
Give them a run, fuel their superstition

There’s no hope for them
Abandon your elders boy
And still theres no hope for us
Got to count on the younger boys

Oh but we we just turn our cheeks and stay inside
I sit and dream dreams of times where we’ll thrive
But I every time I just come to realize
They’ll never float, they’re destined to capsize

In my life I don’t think that I’ll witness
My brothers and sons help cure this illness
When a vision is so hard to uphold
Is it better to just leave on the blindfold

There’s no hope for them
Abandon your elders boy
And still theres no hope for us
Can we count on the younger boys?

What would we see if we opened our eyes?
Track Name: Reprieve (Live August 4th 2012)
How easy would it be
How simple does it seem
Oh the white light how it gleams
Beckoning my dreams

And I could throw a stone
That’d crush my aching bones
Break and start the flatline drone
Leave naught but unbeknowns

And I could breathe
The air that we all breathe
Or I could stop and cease
Intentional release

And i could stand to believe
These thoughts a’plaguing me
Are telling me to leave
Reconcile and reprieve

Myself
Reprieve myself
Reprieve myself
Chase dark and all and else
The wonder of it all
How does one find themselves
So far away from help
Bittered, left to shelf

This journey
Will proceed
For eternity
It don’t need me

And all throughout the show
We all have things we owe
Round every twist and turn
And black moonlit sunburn

As we sail for wind scathed shores
With the king and queen as oars
We all will lock our doors
And plot to settle scores

And reprieve
Ourselves
Reprieve ourselves
Make dark and all and else
The wonder of it all
How do we find ourselves
In such desperate need of help
We’ve done it to ourselves

On those young legs
He runs
Chasing the birds
He runs
Shooting them down
With invisible guns
For breakfast his mother made
Cinnamon buns
And on those young legs
He runs

There's wonder spread
To every corner of his eyes
His face contorted
In a state of constant surprise
The wind in his hair,
His feet laying bare-
On grass, and the humid-
Summer air
And on those young legs
He runs

And who will hear the sound
Of the laughing boy who fell to the ground?

The young neck cracks
And his eyes stand still
His mothers crying
From the window sill
The warblers hush
As the ravens begin
That crooked melody
That they always sing

And who will hear this sound?
Will it drip from the cheeks of men and wet the ground?

I’m scared
When I wave goodbye gray haired
No one will hear me
No one will hear me
No one will hear me
No one will hear
When I hit the ground
And i will
I’m gonna hit the ground
Track Name: Reprieve (Early Rehearsal Recording)
How easy would it be
How simple does it seem
Oh the white light how it gleams
Beckoning my dreams

And I could throw a stone
That’d crush my aching bones
Break and start the flatline drone
Leave naught but unbeknowns

And I could breathe
The air that we all breathe
Or I could stop and cease
Intentional release

And i could stand to believe
These thoughts a’plaguing me
Are telling me to leave
Reconcile and reprieve

Myself
Reprieve myself
Reprieve myself
Chase dark and all and else
The wonder of it all
How does one find themselves
So far away from help
Bittered, left to shelf

This journey
Will proceed
For eternity
It don’t need me

And all throughout the show
We all have things we owe
Round every twist and turn
And black moonlit sunburn

As we sail for wind scathed shores
With the king and queen as oars
We all will lock our doors
And plot to settle scores

And reprieve
Ourselves
Reprieve ourselves
Make dark and all and else
The wonder of it all
How do we find ourselves
In such desperate need of help
We’ve done it to ourselves

On those young legs
He runs
Chasing the birds
He runs
Shooting them down
With invisible guns
For breakfast his mother made
Cinnamon buns
And on those young legs
He runs

There's wonder spread
To every corner of his eyes
His face contorted
In a state of constant surprise
The wind in his hair,
His feet laying bare-
On grass, and the humid-
Summer air
And on those young legs
He runs

And who will hear the sound
Of the laughing boy who fell to the ground?

The young neck cracks
And his eyes stand still
His mothers crying
From the window sill
The warblers hush
As the ravens begin
That crooked melody
That they always sing

And who will hear this sound?
Will it drip from the cheeks of men and wet the ground?

I’m scared
When I wave goodbye gray haired
No one will hear me
No one will hear me
No one will hear me
No one will hear
When I hit the ground
And i will
I’m gonna hit the ground