BKO III - Whole Lotta Lunch
Power Singles
Phantom Works - Live EP
Harbor Lights 2
Harbor Lights 1
Bob City Rare
The Phone
Cool Devices
Brad Swiniarski
Charlie Chopper
Jason Frederick
Ohio 95-97
Amigo My Friend
Marcellus Hall
Power Friends


Brendan Francis Newnam - guitar, vox, pink wine
Spencer Lee - drums, lead guitar, piano

Recorded at Scout Studios


All Hands On Bed

If you dance in that dress
the night is a problem met
we'll play catch with our breath
all hands on bed
passion in the pantry
the secret of the century
the wine, the coke, the bonhomie
thanks for inviting me to your party
the collapse of a slip strap
a furtive look towards where I'm at
if love is a ship of state
let's wait (wade?), let's wade (wait?)
I can carry a tune 
if someone else is carrying it too
Reading Chekov in your guest room
while you and your husband make love
I'm only half-listening, it's only half that I want
we're present enough to not regret
we can't rely on the things that we meant
so I'll just lay here quietly
while you set fire to that bed
I can carry a tune if someone else is carrying it too
I won't miss a beat
anything goes when nobody leads
I've been caught and released
caught in relief


Brendan Francis Newnam - guitar, vox
Laris Kreslins - drums
Joel "Hill Street" Rose - keys
Robin Hendrickson - bass

Recorded on the first day of January 2008 (or something?)
at Atlantic Sound in Brooklyn, NY

Eunice, we both like the meek
so turn the other cheek
and look at me, look at me
you're sweet
when you experiment with love
when will the boys grow up?
And look at thee
look at thee

You took the train down
to this regrettable town
you put your tongue in my mouth
and we both spun around
then you tapered off
a warm signal gone silent
with that look on your mouth and that one half-closed eyelid

Did it? Did it? Did it? Did it mean?
All the once possible things...
the dreams we assembled in that bed...
the sounds you made in my head...

Each morning is a new page blank and white
and it gives the worst stage fright
What should I write? Should I write? Or stall?
The clock pounds on the wall,
the big hand laps the small
You must have a ball to drop the ball
When we hit the town now it does not make a sound
the once inimitable and proud aren't talking so loud
We no longer go out and our skin wrinkles now
we still use our mouths but just words come out
Does it? Does it? Does it mean?
That all the once possible things
were lost between the moves
unchosen by choosing not to choose

So sleep
and savor every breath
of that great cousin of death
Count the sheep and steal the sheets
You sneak!
Take refuge in the bed, where all the make pretend
sparks delight, turns out alright
The fingerprints on your arm
fade like cellphone bars,
your breathing blows hard
but your body grows calm
Just because you shuddered
doesn't make him your lover
it's the weight of the arm
the one to the other
Doing it, doing it, doing it, seems
like all the impossible things
coalesced into a simple sentence
The aftershocks of our past
the delirium tremens


Brendan Francis Newnam - vox and guitar
Laris Kreslins - drums
Joel Rose - keys
Ben Riesman - guitar

Recorded on one cold afternoon in Philadelphia.

Touch Me Ardor!

His royalty retreats from the bruised flesh of a peach
A thumb on her mouth
A reed for her heat
An alabaster limb
A cannelini bean
A guitar pick of soap to help the dirty come clean
And do you want to know what the best is?
Someone called your bluff and left you a message

Love must be just
Touch me ardor
Games can be thrown
Kiss me harder
Then don't leave me alone

The broken buckle on his belt
Tells you how she really felt
Withdrawn from the well
Killed by the belle
A naked leg upon the tub
Thumps enough's enough
"There is treasure in this chest, but it holds no regrets"

She puts the computer to her ear
And the diplomats appear

Love must be just
Touch me ardor
Games can be thrown
Kiss me harder
Then don't leave me alone


Brendan Francis Newnam - guitar, vox
Laris Kreslins - drums
Spencer Lee - bass, vox
Jiha Lee - keys, vox

Recorded over wine at Scout Studios

My Appetites

First of all I love you,
like a sage leaf, cut where the veins meet
the aroma a symphony, savory and then sweet, swoon

Like a pork tenderloin, cut into a dozen coins,
coated in fennel seeds, then roasted perfectly

Like the first glass of wine that hits and you start to shine
a warm concierge to escort you beyond your cars
This is my way of saying,
You're a little fish I like filleting!
You're a little bird I like to roast!
You're the greatest thing since toast...

with jam and butter
maybe honey covered
the crunch of the crust, combines with the rust colored tea
(and now I'm adding cream!)

Like a melon wrapped in meat you give me salt and then that sweet
cold explosion wrapped in the ocean

This is my way of praising
You're a chicken thigh that needs braising!
A radish on a bed of little gem!
The tippy-top of the creme de la creme...

brulee, after the flambeau
A tap on the skin reveals the custard within

Like a stiff drink that steels your nerves before you speak
Send your thoughts all fluttery
In love with everything

This is my kind of luck
You're the kind of oyster I'd like to shuck!
The sugar on my Turkish delight!
The antidote to my appetites!

My appetites