Vulgaris [Mini​-​LP]

by Tyler Burns

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Super heavy-duty CD digipak with 16-page booklet featuring photos, lyrics, sketches, and custom font by Tyler Burns.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Vulgaris [Mini-LP] via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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      $6 USD


Take me back, Henry Failing I must be ailing Take me back to the trails Lay my body in the Ochoco woods Beneath the Cascades If everything else fails I’ve been running around the world, you see Supposedly finding the real me Oh, but long ago I found trees And mountains reaching higher than any of these buildings Far, far away I’ll go Folks always say hello, all my Worries behind me So free If you’re from Norway, Myanmar Or Madagascar Consider yourself blessed It’s a triumph for an American man To have just one day His doubtful mind at rest We say, “If God is real, well then I need proof!” And struggle to find some definitive truth I think I’ll walk outside instead To find more wisdom and credence than anything some book said
Another day Holding down the fort again “We’ll be back in a week,” they said “Pathetic seeing your tears,” they left Unnaturally, I drew up a plan Like any sensible child would do Though it’s taken me Till I was a man Card games, cutting cake soon after Faces filled with helium laughter But Jamie, Jamie, Jamie’s always out of town Chasing well-to-dos in a wedding gown And Michael went away to find a real career How he’d look at me strangely still living here Imagine me in a pirate suit Hunt for hidden treasure If I find the nickel lipsticks on the highest shelf They’ll be swallowed whole I’ll throw a party for myself Another night Unwillingly alone again An Epsom bath and a restless nap Pop-up books with fatal finger traps My hands shake, scraping the floor I know I never asked for much Or begged for some sin I just want to go outside But I’m not sure it’s alright The critics are gone and still I shake with this stage fright To push, push, push against the safety rail In the cradle, nearly drunk off of ginger ale I’ll come crashing down, crashing down in the blink of an eye They say the longer you live, the longer you die Imagine me in a pirate suit Hunt for hidden treasure If I find the Robitussin on the highest shelf In a liquid ore I’ll throw a party for myself
Spider eyes A thousand views of my face Be safely blurred by disaffection In the light of the day Every bathroom (every little bathroom) Like a gleaming royal chalice And every fad’s Shiny window ad Like a televangelical crystal palace I know I’ve gone too far I don’t know what else I can do Build a casket In a tar pit Hide away, hide away from this Mirror phobia The pictures Really were fun The ones we took in an oatmeal bath Veiled from unflattering sun, oh-ho-ho The pictures Were admittedly fun But would you believe? Could you conceive? That I tore them to shreds, every one, and I know I’ve gone too far I don’t know what else I can do Have a wrestling match With a briar patch Hide away, hide away from this Mirror phobia
The end of the week so nervous finds me No more comforted by night or the thought that my life, itself Is writing a book already on the shelf The clock always slows to Friday’s crawl Shadows in the street bay the Siren’s call as Mansions appear; negligees surround me In costume rooms Built as tombs For the shy and lonely So I’ll wait for your sign Throw down that Red Rope of Jericho When will you join my side And tell me the secrets that I’ve never known Yeah, I’ll wait for your sign Throw down that Red Rope of Jericho Sometime The twilight fades so far behind me Your door slammed in my face, this petty bourgeoisie Just wanted some community I’ll lie in bed, watch a TV show I’ll try to live my life in the status quo You say, “The next generation will change our worldview” But I’m the man The also-ran That your kid grew into
When I see a debutante acting so dull A paint-by-numbers sketch on an unblemished scroll I get a taste for bitter food I get a taste for bitter food When I hear a young man of curious aims Admit to someone else passion fed by two flames I get a taste, I do, for bitter food I get a taste for strong drink Because I know that when the Rain pours down They’ll prolong their goodbyes And when the wind knocks me over The faster their jets fly by The only words of comfort I may hear Are, “Don’t look so wrecked. What did you expect?” A prayer for second chances A prayer for second chances A prayer for second chances, whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh


All songs written and arranged by Tyler Burns.

Tyler Burns - Vocals, Piano, Hammond C2, Rhodes MK I, Prophet ‘08, Nord Lead 3

Produced and Mixed by David Pollock and Tyler Burns.

Joey Harmon - Drums, Percussion
Ian Millhollen - Bass Guitar
Ian Christiensen - Saxophone
Walker Ray - Guitar
David Pollock - Guitar, Percussion
JJ Kirkpatrick - Trumpet

Additional synth programming by Joey Blush. Additional instrumentation on “A Prayer for Second Chances”: Soo Young Kim (Violin), Duekwoo Kim (Violin), Sin Kyu Lee (Viola), Sarah Kwon (Cello).

Recorded at Supernatural Sound, Oregon City, OR; Clive Davis Institute of Recorded Music, NYC. Mixed at Supernatural Sound in Oregon City, OR. Tracked on a Studer A800 MKIII 2” 24-track at 15 and 30 IPS, no NR.Mixed on an ATR-102 1/2” 2-track at 15 IPS, no NR.

Digipak designed by Alec Eagon & Tyler Burns. Cover photograph by Stuart Eagon. Booklet photographs by Stuart Eagon, Alec Eagon, Carter Marquis, Patrick Eggert, Horace Long.

Hair & makeup by Eddie Lugo, Mitch Bridon, Nancy Mende, Estee Aalvik.

Custom font and sketches by Tyler Burns.

Infinite thanks to God, to Bruce, Brenda, and Evan for the love, Hank for helping me see the bigger picture, Brand for tolerating hours of painfully cacophonous synth programming, Eddie for the Cuban spunk, John for keeping me from the drunk tank, Val for the key to NYC, and Malini for the Boddington’s and karaoke.

© 2012 Tyler Burns.


released September 30, 2012


all rights reserved



Tyler Burns Portland, Oregon

Synthpop on analog tape.

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