

Later Never Now

by Milk Carton Superstars

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When all the hard drives are finally corrupted and the militaries shoot off all their guns, it's gonna look real bleak when we finally peek and we'll want to hear from our most creative ones. That's why the artists will take over before the end of the world, the freak will be the last flag to be unfurled. When the Offices of Vital Statistics and the DMVs all crumble as they must, they'll hang collages from the trees made of invalid IDs and build sculptures out of apocalyptic dust. Because the artists will take over before the end of the world, the freak will be the last flag to be unfurled. And if I get the chance, get to wear those pants, I might even dance under the circumstance. I'll hang on every line, written, sung and serpentine, and I'll try to combine sun tea and moonshine. When the politicians run out of elections and the puppeteers are holding broken strings, well there's gonna be a show, there won't be anything to do but go and we'll learn the words as everybody sings, "La la, la la..." Because the artists will take over before it's all gone for good, a brief but oh so beautiful tenure in all likelihood.
Found the time but I lost my motivation, I thought I left it here with my confidence. I'll show up, I'll go through the motions, if nothing else I can navigate pretense. I wanna relate, I'd hate to be a one-of-a-kind kind of lonely. Participatory, yeah that's me. I'll try on these mental jumper cables, maybe I can ignite a cognitive spark. I'll buy a pipe, a Brebbia Lectura, fill it with something that''ll help me see in the dark. I wanna relate, I'd hate to think that there's everyone else and I'm the kitchen sink Participatory, it's my instinct. Late at night on an interstate highway, doing 72 in a 65. Angels of fog descend to receive me, there but to pass through and onward I drive. Found my way but forgot the destination, for all I know I've already been there and gone. I'll stand by, occupying my station, the eight billion and first phenomenon. I wanna relate, I'd hate to be a one-of-a-kind kind of lonely. Participatory, yeah that's me.
he Giants of Rome were not so big compared to nowadays, in fact they may have not been real. They could've been made by Romans who were also not so big, just to lend an epic feel to stories that survived the tellings to forge legends out of lies, with a mystical appeal. If the water turns to wine well I suppose things will be fine, until we start to dehydrate. If we climb the rope to heaven I wonder where we'll find ourselves if we fail to concentrate. Is transcendence our reward if we really only sleep when we try to meditate? Had a dream, woke up and somehow I became a spotted owl, feathers on my pillow spell out later never now. The Giants of Rome were not the ones who left the Polo Grounds, but I don't wanna look it up. You can hold your breath forever but there isn't any cure for historian hiccups. Had a dream, woke up and somehow I became a spotted owl feathers on my pillow spell out later never now.
If you know what's good for you, you'll let this drop before the other shoe. Everyone pulls a little red wagon filled with debris. You had a taste for keen insight before you lost your appetite. Clarity can be a bit unsettling, don't you agree? Try to remember we're all on your side, it's not really true but just take it in stride. Anyway, we've got your ticket - it's a one-way ride. Long ago like your granny said, we imposed a ban on pre-sliced bread. In retrospect perhaps a little draconian, well you had to be there. But now we've got your back, let there be no doubt. We're not butting in, we're just looking out. We understand that might seem intrusive, but we don't really care. Hey, try to remember we're all on your side, it's not really true but just take it in stride. Anyway, we've got your ticket - it's a one-way ride - c'mon!
Sometimes I bring me down like a self-fulfilling black cloud. I tell me with my mind what I can't say out loud. Why think of tomorrow when today is all we've got? If I believe it's true, who cares if it's not?
Step out side, look around, the postcard street that runs through town, the ghosts of businesses torn down. It smells like ledgers, pens and mail, like paper bags and old retail, this space between hammer and nail. Because communities all have a scent of promises and money lent and realities to circumvent. Along the train of chain-link fence the yards create a dream sequence between the past and present tense. The here and now was not before, the old two-lane became the four, that pawn shop was a grocery store. And communities all have a sound, songs of lawnmowers abound, hear the engine rhythms pound. Lead me to the precipice, add up all the ones I'll miss, decorate the great abyss until I feel a part of this. Step inside, take a seat, before we call your tour complete, we've got some folks you have to meet. They're just like you, they're working out a story to feel good about, to catch some truth while casting doubt. And communities all have a way of registering every stray. We're so glad you're here, sign up today.
Tom Holysz 02:11
Tom Holysz drove a Maverick and then he drove a van, he quit his job at Circle K, stopped working for the man. He played drums for the syndicate, he played saxophone for the mob, and he roadied for the orchestra with whom he would hob-knob. There was a dog named Bandit sitting on the couch, but the dog did not belong to Tom, he just came with the house. One time Tom's drumstick shattered as he played I Fought the Law, and a piece lodged in his forearm so he left for Mardi Gras. It was Thursdays with King Cowboy, and Friday you never could tell, and Saturdays with the Diner, and Sunday Horns of Hell. And there was that time between gigs when we had the nerve to ask, and he played that night in our band, but he had to wear a mask.
Attention parents of the boys who took the drug: we wanna help you make us money! We'll coat that bitter pill with litigious honey. Does your poor loved one have asbestos in his lungs? Call now, we'll help you make us money! We'll sooth that angry wheeze with litigious honey, golden and runny. You're entitled to our unique expertise, certified to profit from most tragedies, we'll find the liabilities and squeeze. Have you been suffering from baldness, warts or death? Well now that might just mean a payday! We'll cure what ails you with our legal agave. Let's see the x-ray.
Did you vote or did you abstain? Either way I'm sure you'll explain. You've got something to get off your mind, but first you'll have to wait in line. And when you get to the front of the line, that's where you'll find the out-of-order sign. Step right up, go ahead and take aim, but politics is a carnival game. I heard the score, a most peculiar mandate: Pot 57, Scott 48. And when you file your official protest, that's when you get to take the history test. You better hold your nerve, be prepared to swerve, when you're graded on this kind of curve. Did you choose or did you defer? Either way I'm sure your intentions were pure. Yes of course they really do keep count, either votes or dollar amounts. Now that it's over everything will be fine, they're putting in a new out-of-order sign.
They tell me to smile from the inside out, well I will if I can, and when I look in the mirror pretend I have a plan. Why think of tomorrow when today is throwing a bash? The prophet is hanging round disguised with a mustache.
So they took the train, she was afraid to fly. Midtown layover, they gave Times Square a try. And as they headed north it began to rain, she felt as if they were the only people on the train. And then she showed him where the nuns' laundry burned, and whispered prayers in French that she'd been made to learn. And when they went to lunch the Chinese waitress said, "The mei fun's not so good, have chow mein instead." She introduced him to so many friendly names, and the reunion shined with warm genetic flames. And on a southbound train, a letter three states long depicted railroad towns just like a Guthrie song.
She's not gonna like this song, made her mind up a long time ago. You can dress it in an up-tempo beat or break it down sultry and slow, but she's not gonna nod her head like she did for the other one you wrote. She won't bother to learn these words or peruse your liner notes. She went to a party in high school, tried to watch a TV show, she asked this guy to turn it up but he thought she meant the stereo. So she took a trip out to the west coast, turned into a 10-week stay, lived above a hardware store around the corner from East Bay Ray. Oh yeah she's funny that way, she let's you carry her tray, she's watching live on tape delay, she sings It's a Shame About Ray in the voice of Eydie Gorme. She's not gonna like this song, she knew before you hit record. Never mind what your producer says, it's only gonna make her bored. Go ahead and add some horns, maybe even arrange some strings, but it's not gonna make her dance like the one that she always sings. Oh yeah she's funny that way, she knows two ways to San Jose, she serves as her own attaché, she's cooking with a gamma ray, she's gonna write a PSA.
Hey Throwback, tell us all about your rock & roll, your rockabilly psychedelic heavy metal of oh so long ago. "Well the first thing I remember is a 4/4 beat, living on Bolling Drive off of Hastings Street. My uncle would drop by and settle into his buzz and tell me Gene Vincent was the best that ever was. He played bass and sang a little every Saturday night in a Moose Lodge cover band, matching jumpsuits gold and white. My dad called it jukin', my mother rolled her eyes, my sister played "The time has come...", there were things to realize." Hey Throwback, tell us more about your rock & roll, your blues-infused, Brit Invasion preoccupation of oh so long ago. "I inherited a tape deck from Radio Shack, so my first seven albums were all on eight-track. I thought Pigs on the Wing was just one song with a guitar lead in the middle, and I really wasn't wrong. My first vinyl tended to be 10 years old or more, in 1983 I was into Vol. 4. Finally got a drum set, started hi-in' with the hat, no one came for miles around, Ian Gillan said that." Hey Throwback, tell us what became of your rock & roll, from syndication saturation to the nation of college radio. "Well I'm the first to admit that it took me awhile, but I started to catch up down on the left side of the dial. Found out why Utah ended up with all the shopping carts, but that answer never reached the modern rock charts. I saw the Lakeview Man in the long moonlight, while Mojo's drive-in showed Two-Lane Blacktop every night. Before downloads killed the album, CDs killed the album side. Beelzebubba spoke to me, it was my last roller coaster ride."
I thought I could hear myself but I lost me in the noise. They say that words are tools, but sometimes they're just toys. Why think of tomorrow when today is all that exists? The prophet is leaving town with all his who's who lists.
If I could get my thoughts together, we'd lay them out and have a look, find a story arc we could live with, shut the door and write that book. Invite all my demons to come investigate the night I stole my father's car and drove it right through the gate. Had a word with my better judgment, asked him where he's been hiding out. He said he talks but I never listen, I said well you don't have to shout. Just answer the questions and tell with confidence how I tried myself but the jury hung in first person present tense. No matter how we proselytize, there is no path, no exercise, we would be wise to recognize that we do not all fit in one size. If I could write myself a letter I'd tell me how to shake this slump, use a stamp that lasts forever, mail it off to the city dump. And invite all my demons to come and have a laugh as I punctuate what went before and start a new paragraph.






released March 1, 2017



Guest sound makers in order of appearance:
Jeff Boyce - bass on 4
Jennie Landau - violin on 4
Tom Holysz - alto and baritone saxophones on 7
Leslie Rising - backing vocals on 10, 12, 14
Marc With a C - backing vocals on 10, 14
Bethany Myers - squeaky voice on 10
Meka Shama Nism - backing vocals on 13
Beth McKee - organ and backing vocals on 15


Produced and Engineered by Justin Beckler
Mastered by Kramer

All songs written by Milk Carton Superstars
©2017 Larmay Myers Music

Photography, front cover design by Bethany Myers
Art design, layout by Katharine!

Video for The Artists Will Take Over:

Video for The Giants of Rome:

Video for Tom Holysz:

Video for Litigious Honey:

Video for The Infinitely Sad Kitchen Towel:

Video for Funny That Way (Directed by Tim Labonte):


Album review from Get It On Vinyl:

Album review from Geek World Order:



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Milk Carton Superstars Orlando, Florida


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