1. |
What Would Whibley Do?
01:32
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Dean of UMD Scene, exploitative dick. This DIY Art Guy wants us to hawk tickets. 100 minimum for a Sunday. Dean of UMD Scene, pretentious piece of shit cheered in sophomoric blogs for his “art collective.” Resistance hero moonlights with pay-to-play. As was said by Brosenstock: something pure to you will always get fucked up. Treating bands as grist for your mill? Well, you can fuck off. No one showed up to our last show. No one likes us, and we don’t give a fucking shit. When we show up trashed on Keystones, quoting Whibley, we will start the fucking pit.
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2. |
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We are super fucking good. Were talking to lots of labels and will get signed really soon. They all say we're reinventing punk. Epitaph, Fat Wreck Chords, and Dischord are fighting over us. Ian said, “you were pretty good” (9/9/17). That's why there's a giant bidding war to sign us super soon. This is all true, we’re reinventing punk. Think Sex Pistols, the Ramones, Yellowcard. It’s about a month until we fucking blow up, and that'll be just the start. Everyone out there will want a fucking piece of us, but we don’t care, it's about the art. And fame!
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3. |
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As a socially responsible punk band we lend our voice to under-appreciated brands. Let’s talk the purple Doritos which unjustly sit on the shelves. As Jefferson said: “this is America and taste sells.” Go out and buy a bag of purple Doritos. It's like red and blue mixed together, but then made to taste way fucking better. This whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Go out and buy purple Doritos.
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4. |
Old Land Sign
00:59
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Over and over again. Abandon your friends. Do what you got to. Over and over again. Do what you go to do and then we’ll all make sure to grab a beer every other month. We’ll talk till the talk’s so small that it's not the same. The refrain rises up once the ball has dropped as if a burden would never be brought to mind again. Voices carry the universal joyous thought that all of our old acquaintances were forgotten. But me I can’t stand this fucking shit: the cyclical savage ravages of atomization. As soon as I dig in into some significance, inexorable tides pull in another direction. Me, I can’t stand this fucking shit: being tossed around by incentives like a rag doll. But me, I know that I’m resigned to it: projecting days gone by on a fresh coat of my drywall.
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5. |
Belly Up
01:33
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World’s your oyster, but the ocean’s shrinking. We’re only granted so much time to swim: 100 years. Million fish in the same boat. Suck the brine, it’ll bring your side afloat. So much time to swim tomorrow while millions go belly-up every single day. Waste no time drowning in sorrows. Fight the tide that’s pulling you away. Plucked from the school. Served on a plate. Behold the short tale of the reprobate. Dropped in the glass tank with filigrees, but plastic, not unlike the bel esprit. 100 years.
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6. |
Force Oversensitive
01:16
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Stop fucking pearl-clutching, you poser materialists. It’s fucking that surprising that the force has a biological basis? We’re talking here about organic life forms throwing shit around with their minds, wielding laser swords. What could explain that but stuff in their cells and shit? You want more Harry Potter? Magic snacks and pets and happy hobbits? Well, you can eat Bantha fodder. Translation: you can eat Bantha shit. Fuck haters of Jinn blood testing Ani. Fucking of course you can measure force sensitivity. What did you want, a full genome map and shit? What did you want? What did you want? Fucking space magic? Its fucking science fiction. Its fucking science fiction. Its super scientific.
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7. |
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We should control the weather. Think about it: it would storm like, never. It's our birthright to control the weather. It's not hubris, it's just super science. There is no god. We must become gods and control the weather. We must live forever and control the weather.
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8. |
Please Don't Sue Us
00:59
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It’s gonna be a great night. We bought 100 keystone lights and we're gonna drink them all tonight. It’s smooth even when you’re not. Please don't sue us, we just like keystone a lot. We just like your brand a lot. Thank you.
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9. |
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Emptied all our flush retirement accounts. Sold our Social Security numbers. Turned the cash to Bitcoin and combed the deep web for spiritual advisors. Hired this guy with great reviews: big Big Lebowski Fan, calls himself “The Dude.” Our shaman informed us of cosmic forces after we crushed a 30 of Miller. The Dude said we must write the best punk LP since All Killer No Filler, that though the scene adores our old shit if we write 13 more gems we will get signed super quick. He said we must follow wherever he led, but first he needed to kick back a pack of Sudafed. We scaled a nearby mountain, reached a great ravine where there stood an ancient lodge in which we’d write an LP to upend the DC DIY scene.
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10. |
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We locked ourselves in that old lodge to write this LP. Writing 13 great songs was so fucking, so super easy. There we faced the ancient trials in ceremonial fires. Some crazy shit transpired. The Spirit of Sid appeared and gave us visions of a stadium packed with punks, visions of a festival headlined by us, of slander, of honor, of desert so fucking just. We brought our own keystone keg. The arcane dark rituals of our centenarian Lodgemaster called our new band member onto the mountain. "There I faced the ancient trials in super dangerous fires." The dude abides. He admires, grants blessing to our LP. But something about the dudes abiding made us wonder what he might be hiding. We went into his lodge rooms to check some shit out and found this recording... what the fuck is this shit about?
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11. |
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Remember when Pierre got his ass kicked at the show for putting Tony Hawk in his shitty music video? What the fuck? Or how about that time JT asked me and Cone for a couple bucks because he was dumb enough to sign with Victory. Instead he got a fresh fat lip from me. With booze I wrote punk’s greatest LP, leaving in my wake these fucking wannabes and they’re in too deep, just another casualty. In too deep, another fucking casualty. What the fuck? We must stop all of these shitty bands. Joel and Benji don’t have a single good tattoo on their arms... how can they be trusted to write good punk rock songs? We’ll purge the earth of this scourge when the dark armies come. We’ll purge the earth of this scourge when the sum is 41. Sum 41.
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12. |
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Armed with this LP we left the mountain. Went to our sold out release show at the Anthem. $5 cover, no rules but All Ages. We set up in the pit because we don't fucking need stages. Turns out the Man wasn’t happy about us reinventing punk. He sent his agents to storm the stadium and try to pull the fucking plug. The Dude turned to us and said, "boys, time to not give a fuck, because I'm Deryck Fucking Whibley, and with my punk super powers I’ll fuck some shit up." We were surprised, then materialized Ian, Fat Mike, and Andrew, and they started to fuck shit up. Punk’s final holy war commenced. We lost real bad, it was embarrassing. The Man shut down our awesome show. We got sentenced to 10 years expatriation, but we don’t give a fuck so we didn’t go.
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13. |
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Avril was born in 1984. We became friends when she was 17. That was in 2001. We started dating when she was 19. That was in 2003. I proposed when she was 21. That beautiful day was in 2005. 2006 saw our union. Fuck, I was not a good person. I was not a good person. I was totally rotten down to the core. I could have done more, but I was totally rotten right down to the core. In 2003 they came to me, said that Avril was gone, but the Board had decreed the show simply must go on. We’d been together a few months. Friends for two years. They brought someone in. I saw Avril's face through the tears, but it wasn’t her. No it wasn’t her. It looked just like her, but it wasn’t her. I was on and off tour. I was writing Chuck. They offered to pay me a million bucks. I took the cash. Lost myself in drugs. I lost myself. I lost my love. Fuck, I was not a good person. I was not a good person. I was totally rotten.
Sike! Who the fuck do you think I am? I’m a honest punk-as-fuck morally upright man! All you internet fuckers spewing this shit have soiled my honor, and you'll fucking pay for it! You'll fucking pay for it! My revenge will be sweet! You'll fucking pay for it on Warped Tour ‘023! Headlined by the fucking Barking Carnies! Punk isn’t dead! Warped Tour isn’t dead! With DC’s best punk band on the rise I shall reap my revenge!
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Barking Carnies Washington, D.C.
"You were pretty good" -Ian MacKaye, actual quote, to Barking Carnies about Barking Carnies, 9/9/17
UPCOMING SHOWS:
12/3 @ The Runaway
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