HOW PETE SQUAFFLE & HIS MUSIC CAME INTO MY LIFE:
I met Pete squaffle when he stepped on my toe at a concert.
He told me of his australian heritage as the great-great-great grandson of an english convictED THIEF whose squeAky voice had GAINEd him the SIR name of squaffle, which his family has held on to ever since.
It wasn't his being a struggling singer/songwriter that cemented our friendship, but the fact that he'd also held on to the family trade and stolen my wallet anD identity, and THREATENED TO RUIN ME UNLESS I posted his SONGS and made his videos. he also never apologized for stepping on my toe.
track 1: SHE MAKES ME WAIT
Supposedly the first song of Pete's mini-opera about a bank heist. Composed primarily for Kaossilator & Ukulele
She makes me wait.
You’re in a fitting room and I’m outside the door
But I’m the one who doesn’t fit, can’t take no more.
Malls fall from the sky and block the way ahead
Now I’m stuck here, living with the dead.
TJ Maxx, Ross For Less, the outlet stores
I’m stranded in a world with only revolving doors.
They say shopping is like sex, their thinking has some cred.
Now with the internet, we do them both in bed.
Don’t get me wrong, like anyone, I love a deal.
But how much is it worth, when it’s the only thing that’s real?
I’m sitting in chair and wondering what to do
I don’t know what to think, just waiting here for you.
You’re in a fitting room and I’m outside the door
But I’m the one who doesn’t fit, can’t take no more.
© Pete Squaffle/Joshua Levin 2015
track 2: Living In Crisis
Pete Squaffle buzzed, demanding to be let up. Before the door was fully open, he busted by me.
“I just wrote and recorded this song in like an hour. Put it on the line!”
“You sure you don’t want to think more on this?”
“I’m done with thinking.”
As he was wearing a desert boot and a flip-flop, some old girlfriends pink kulats, and a T-Shirt that said ‘Surf Nicaragua’, I only had one response.
“Sure. What’s the worst that could happen?”
She don’t want to live in crisis. I don’t want to pay her bills
She don’t want to hear about Isis. I don’t want to ignore their kills
She don’t want to face the future. I don’t want her to know my past
She don’t think she was built for survival. I don’t think we were meant to last
Sunshine. Trees to climb. Party time. All the old ways.
Pick up line. Partners in crime. Blind lead blind. Start counting the days
Left to live simply surrounded by complexly contrasting crises in our own way
She don’t want to limit her showers. I don’t want to drink my own pee
She don’t want nuclear power. I don’t want a hand-cranked tv
She don’t want anyone to go hungry. I don’t want to see comedians cry
She wants to live in a free world. I just don’t want to die.
© Pete Squaffle/Joshua Levin 2015
track 3: YOU, ME & THE DODO
Pete Squaffle explained that this song was about the ending of a relationship. Or the world. It really depended on who was intended to receive the list of the extinct.
I’m just sitting here making a list of all the things that don’t exist, anymore.
I used to believe for a long time all that’s old just needs a new shine
And that was all.
Surrounded by the mess here, tomorrow looks like yesterday and it’s becoming all too clear.
I’m just sitting here making a list of all the things that don’t exist, anymore.
I’m using a pen and not a pencil. I’m writing freehand, not with a stencil, regaining control.
The list could go on, ad infinitum, but there are only three items, that hold me so
Three things stand out, so distinct that they could only be extinct.
It’s you, me, and the dodo.
Charles Darwin took a dive. Don’t have to be fit to survive.
We can change like dodos could fly away and so this list is the only way I can say
Goodbye.
I’m just sitting here making a list
You, me, and the dodo.
©Pete Squaffle/Joshua Levin 2015
track 4: FLOATING ON THE BREEZE
Influenced by an impressive street performance by a freestylist named ‘Grasshappa’, Pete Squaffle said he wanted to try his hand at rap. Not wanting to reveal anything about his criminal activities in case he ‘goes gold’ and ‘the Man comes down, y’knowwhatI’msayin', he decided to rap about me.
“I’ve been threatening to steal your identity from the moment we met,” he explained, “so rapping about the plight of the emotionally erratic, middle-age, white, editor, worker bee seems totally legit.”
“Do I have a say?”
“No. But I’ll try to put in a little swagger in your otherwise sedentary existence.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh. And make a video for it. Something low-fi, artsy, and pretentious. I want it to appeal to nobody, to get the praise of everybody. Y’know, play hard to get.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“Hm. If you get it, maybe it’s a bad idea. Oh well. Do it anyway.”
So I did.
Back in action, no point flashing, sitting back, and let it all happen. Here and there, in my underwear, fold out chair, I don’t care. Time and tide know I tried, fit to be tied. Staked to the ground like Gulliver. It’s all over, but the screaming, teeming, shining, beacon.Telling ships to give a wide berth, ‘cause I scrape the sides, not gonna hide, Ain’t gonna hurt the dirt, ‘cause I’m curt. When I’m set to do just what I like, I go down the center like a strike.
But for now I’m trying to be at ease. I go out of bounds for inner peace. I lick my finger to tell which way it please, ‘cause I’m just floating on the breeze.
Hey, I know that I’m not cool. I sit in the dark and watch other’s rule. I cut and paste, make and break the rules, while other fools shake and bake the noodles. But damn, American is not a cheese, anymore than I’m filler in other’s dreams. Sold out like an ad, hung out like a sheet, can’t win for trying, can’t lose if you’re beat. Hit the drum, strike the chord, pull the rope to see what flies. Marching on, all or none. No one said winners never die. And what did structure ever get you? Besides a roof over head and a plan to guide you.
But for now I’m trying to be at ease. I go out of bounds for inner peace. I lick my finger to tell which way it please, ‘cause I’m just floating on the breeze.
The Quiet Man, he stands tall. Steady stare and says nothing at all. I barely need to get a look, ‘til I’m telling tales like a babbling brook. Run out the mouth like a mighty river that’s not too deep and won’t make you shiver with cold, alone, quiet, still it’s honest and it’s earnest and it fits the bill.
But to have no name and be nothing at all. To follow the wind and the wild’s call. To have no past to leave behind. To be open to all and not so blind. To having nothing causing interference. To be so free you don’t know the difference. That’s the tip top of the perilous peak, and the beautiful calm of which I speak.
So for now I’m trying to be at ease. I go out of bounds for inner peace. I lick my finger to tell which way it please, ‘cause I’m just floating on the breeze.
© Pete Squaffle/Joshua Levin 2015
track 5: GENERIC ERIC
Pete Squaffle says the difference between bullying in high school and bullying after, is like shoplifting a lollipop to robbing a bank. I asked him how he explains his behavior toward me. He says: That’s different. With you it’s like a public service. Like charity. Because you NEED me.
As with this song, I’d like to think his heart is in the right place, but am fairly certain he doesn’t have one, let alone know where it is.
Generic Eric is kinda pathetic. Even in his dreams. He wants to be different, but doesn't know what that means.
Generic Eric is really fed up with all the zombies in the mall. With everything under one roof, there's no variety at all.
He's tired of being the same. Of always coming off so lame. If this is life, he couldn't be deader. He knows he's just a clone. Fitting in feels like being alone. There has to be something better. Better get away.
Generic Eric put on a get up. It made him feel real cool. But it wasn't Halloween and everyone called him a fool. Generic Eric's apathetic. Why should he care what others think? But he's lying to himself and he's on the brink.
He's tired of being the same. Of always coming off so lame. If this is life, he couldn't be deader. He knows he's just a clone. Fitting in feels like being alone. There has to be something better. Better get away.
Gotta get away. But he's not old enough and gets beat up when acting tough. Away. Gotta find away. He's tired of their standards and cliche manners. He sees them all as morons, lemmings, and automatons. If anybody stands out, they label them and kick them around, so he follows in their way as he goes about his day.
Generic Eric is kinda pathetic. Even in his dreams. He want to be different, he dreams of being different, he can't see that he's different, because he doesn't know what that means.
© Pete Squaffle/Joshua Levin 2015
track 6: Different Drummer
This is the proposed second song in Pete Squaffle’s forever-work-in-progress mini-opera written for the Ukelele & Kaossilator. It is a point in the story where the bank teller, after breaking up with his girlfriend due to boredom, takes the advice of an attractive customer, and goes to a club only to find her there, dancing.
The drums are performed by one of Pete’s criminal friends. This is how he introduced himself to me: I’m The Man With No Name. But you can call me Steve.
Seriously, where does he find these people?
We all march to a different drummer, who knows not when he's beat.
We walk in line, keeping time, tapping with our feet.
But when there's no more time for rhyme and the rhythms gone askew,
Just listen while the band plays on and look for someone to dance with.
©Pete Squaffle/Joshua Levin 2015
track 7: TAKE MY HAND IF YOU WANT TO LIVE
Pete interrupted my writing and made me watch the original ‘Terminator” movie. He said it made him feel old, then swiped my uke and ran out of the apartment. A few hours later he came back with this song.
Take my hand if you want to live, is the only option I can give and we run in the rain that may never stop and hot wire a car with a convertible top, chased by an alien or a rogue cop.
We speed like a demon or a bat out of hell with our hair in the wind and our wheels in the air. How we got in this mess, we may never know. A blood-oath vendetta with a time-traveling foe?
The police can't help us when we're pinned down, and the superheroes are all out of town, still we hide out in an old motel, just long enough to cast a spell.
'Cause love is a weapon that can't be defeated, when our bombs and our bullets are almost depleted. And the house is too big and the kids off to college. When it all seems so peaceful we can rest in the knowledge, that when the bad guys come for us with the worst they can give, there's a hand to hold onto if we want to live.
So take my hand if you want to live.
©Pete Squaffle/Joshua Levin 2015
track 8: LETS GET OUT OF HERE
Pete Squaffle wouldn’t shut up about his arduous search as a youth for the rambunctious punk girl of his dreams. It was very TMI, until he digressed to what a disappointment Avril Lavigne is. And that being Canadian was no excuse. He then decided to dream it again, in song format. (BTW, the title of the song is the most often spoken line in the history of cinema. I think that fact is mentioned in a Tarantino movie.)
The movies flickering, the sunsets calling. The credits up the screen are crawling. The stars and gazers, they take to parting. But you and I, we are just starting.
She said: Lets get out of here. I can't drink another beer. His honest looks become a leer. That old fart keeps calling me 'dear'. This parties over and that's crystal clear.
She knows just when to leave and where the wind blows. We're dressed all in black or blinding day-glows. Social climbing up with slippery toe-holds. And where it all ends, God only knows.
She said: Let's get out of here. I call this my new career. Crack a smile and shed a tear. Dinners over, tables cleared. This parties over and that's crystal clear.
We just keep moving on we're up a creek without an oar. As what was becomes what's coming, all we want is more, more, more, more, more, more.
She said: Let's get out of here. Leave a mark and disappear. Their winding down, we're getting in gear. There's too much comfort, not enough fear. This parties over and that's crystal clear.
There is a secret to all we dare. We ask the questions and don't just stare. With a level playing field all games fair. With no time limits and an air of devil-may-care, and savoir faire everywhere.
© Pete Sqaffle/Joshua Levin 2015
track 9: WHAT AM I GONNA DO WITH YOU
“This song’s kind of sweet.” I said to Pete Squaffle. “Is it about anyone specific?”
He paused, in mid-spoonful of one of my Greek Yogurts, the desserty-kind. “Maybe it’s about a kid, or a dog, or a girl? Or a hat, or a car, or a country? Wait, no— that’s ‘Panama’. Guess you’ll never know then.”
By the waters edge, feet about to get wet. Toes in the sand, you take my hand. A stone makes ripples, the wind brings sniffles– 'You call that a sneeze?', we laugh in the breeze.
Try as we can, each grain of sand clings to a finger. Will this memory linger?
We swim like we're dancers and splash all our answers, and still there's no clue. What am I gonna do with you?
© Pete Squaffle/Joshua Levin 2015
track 10: HEADCASE
Pete Squaffle hacked my password and stole these lyrics from me. Now he’s in my head, along with everything else.
There are things in my head that are there for safe-keeping. I'll show you a few, if you promise 'no peeking'.
There's a coo-coo clock that ticks when I talk, there are jumbled up numbers that undo some lock, that's in here somewhere keeping closed my Id and in a treehouse, I think there's a kid, from a milk carton I read while eating my cereal, there's a BooBerry eraser and a broken down Hot Wheel, that still runs pretty good if you push down the hood, it's metallic blue, like I felt about you, when you tore up that picture, I still have the pieces, a dried up flower and a half-eaten Reeses. There's the monkey I was and the old man I'll be and a couple of things I don't think you should see.
There's the places I've been and the places I'm bound, and just in case, there's a lost & found. There's a hole in my head, though it's plugged with a cork, I've got extra flatware, but only one fork. There's a candle for you, though it shines like a torch. And an old re-run running that stars Larry Storch.
There's the dreams I remember and the others I slept through. There's the lies I made up and the others that were true. I have just one secret but that I can't tell you. So you can see why it's hard to keep a straight face, when your heart won't let go and your head's like a case.
© Joshua Levin 2015
track 11: A Force to be reckoned with (freak)
It was the sound of the buzzer at my front door that I didn’t need. But I had to let him in.
“Pete, I don’t have time for this shit. I have a plane to catch today. I have stuff to get, packing to check, things to do—“
“Dude, you know the deal,” said Pete Squaffle, far too calm, leaning against a wall and twirling his keychain flashdrive like he had all day. “I was hit with divine inspirato and cooked this one up just this morning. Slap-dash-for-no-cash. Take your time now to post the song or I’ll alert TSA about my suspicions and take your time later.”
The thing is, idle threat of a miscreant or cutthroat tactics of a demonic sociopath; it’s hard for me to say ‘no’ when Mr. Squaffle arrives song in hand.
I, oh I, I've got problems. I've got problems like everyone. And I got expectations, realizations, complications like everyone.
Yeah, I thought I was unique. Held my tongue when I should speak. Scared myself at the first creak of homes and bones and hearts gone weak.
'Cause I'm a freak.
I, oh I, I've got problems like everyone. And I got situations, rumination, celebrations like everyone.
Yeah, bets once placed have now been called. Now or never or fuck it all. No holding back, no playing meek. Time to stand and speak and march and seek.
'Cause I'm a freak.
Yeah, I've got problems like everyone.
©Pete Squaffle/Joshua Levin 2015
track 12: Tell me something I don't already know
Pete Squaffle lay on my couch, loitering, uninvited, when his body went rigid and he yelled, “Jesus, I want out of my head!” I stopped typing. “Josh, tell me something I don’t already know.”
“Well... the saying ‘There’s a sucker born every minute’ wasn’t said by P.T. Barnum, the famous huckster, but by an equally unscrupulous competitor after being ripped-off by Barnum.”
Pete seemed to ruminate on this for a few seconds then said, “Okay. Tell me something significant.”
I'm feeling restless and I can't sleep. My mind feels stagnant as the snow gets deep. I want something different, but just like a coup, as soon as you get it, you want something new.
The music gets old right as I hear it. Our bonds start to fray right as we adhere it. I want to get away just as soon as I'm near it. I'd give up the ghost if I just had the spirit.
Tell me something I don't already know. There's a world at my feet, but my head won't let go. So tell me something I don't already know.
© PeteSquaffle/Joshua Levin 2015
TRACK 13: IDK
This is Pete Squaffle in a nutshell. A mess that will never go away. Do not invite him into your home!
If you're in this crowded bar room, could you please raise up a hand. If you know the place, can keep the pace, and good with faces, can you tell me who I am? I just seemed to have lost my way as the night turns into day, IDK.
I'm scattered all over this city. Like in a scavenger hunt, dear friend. Ripped and ruffled like a jigsaw puzzle, I hate to have to ask you to put me back together again. But I just seemed to have lost my way as the night turns into day, IDK.
Drop me on your couch or let me share in your bed. I'm a coffin-half-empty guy, more alive than dead. If it's too much trouble, shuffle cards and I'll be fine. Leave me in a seedy lounge, I always recognize two of a kind. If you don't think I'll pull through, drill holes in a crate. Bury me in your backyard, but don't ever cremate.
'Cause like the willow in your garden, I don't break, I only bend. Reanimate, cancel delete, bait, switch, rinse & repeat. I will rise again.
I just seemed to have lost my way as the night turns into day, IDK.
©Pete Squaffle/Joshua Levin 2015
track 14: Why Do you care? (it's beyond me)
Pete said he watched four consecutive hours of E! Network while learning to play “Steppin’ Stone” on the guitar non-stop. Then he wrote this song. Whatever, man.
She's got diamonds on her hands and on her feet. She has famous friends, the kind you'd like to meet. She uses words like 'pretentious' and 'presumptious', because she loves herself and how she is perceived by us.
And you can't crash her world or ever bring her down. You're on the periphery yet linger all around. She'll never know you, or ever learn your name, unless you abuse yourself for the slightest bit of fame.
Why do you care?
©Pete Squaffle/Joshua Levin 2015
Track 15: one little spark
I wrote this song and Pete fucking stole it and now claims it’s his own. He’s starting to seriously annoy me. Like he would write something about needing someone else.
Open your eyes, all you see is the dark. Turn your back on that one little spark. You don't need it. But you do.
Love the limbo. Just how low can you go? If you hit bottom, it won't be just for show. You don't need it. But you do.
Wallow in self-pity. Yeah, that sure feels good. Alone with your failure. So misunderstood. You don't need it. But you do.
Yeah, you think that you're all used up, but that's just your skewed point of view. Throw in the towel and you just give up. But nobodies given up on you. Except you.
Open your eyes, all you see is the dark. Don't turn your back on that one little spark. You don't need it. But you do.
©Joshua Levin 2015
TRACK 16: SPEAK EASY
This is the third song in Pete Squaffle’s work-in-progress rock opera about a bank heist. This is where the bank clerk is invited to an exclusive underground club where criminals hang out by the sexy customer he met dancing. Talk turns to crime, and the clerk has a scheme for robbing his bank, but is unsure of whether to tell it.
Like all the tracks for this project, it is composed on Kaossilator.
Speak easy. Lay it on the line. If you've got the nerve, hell, I've got the time.
A password gets you in. First drink is on the house. Loose your tongue for once. Then you're quiet as a mouse. No distractions and no deflections. No twists or turns with anyone's affections. So what's the big idea? The scheme, the scam, the score. A partnership n crime. Can't have de Force, without the Tour. Nothing gets done alone that amounts to very much. You've gotta throw the brick. You can't just pull the punch. Shake hands and make the deal. All in or not at all. Everybody wins. Everybody takes the fall. Or keep it to yourself. Become a bitter twist. You can't reap the benefits, if you don't take the risk.
So speak easy. Lay it on the line. If you got the nerve, hell, I got the time.
©Pete Squaffle/Joshua Levin 2015
TRACK17: TAKE IT TO HEART
“You want to know what old relationships are like?” asked Pete Squaffle while we were in the subway on his ‘Great Shoelace Hunt of 2015.’”
“Not really,” I answered.
“They’re like your first concert t-shirt. It doesn’t fit you anymore. It’s pink from when you screwed up your laundry the one time. The band broke up and the bassist is dead. But you still remember how the one guy smashed his guitar, and that even though your seats weren’t the best, it was still kinda awesome. So you hold onto it, partly out of nostalgia, but also because it rocked.”
“What was your first concert?” I asked.
“None of your fucking business.”
She told me not to take it to heart, but I took it to heart anyway.
I started by taking it to my nose, just to remember her smell from her head to her toes. When it got into my lungs, I knew I was done for, if only for fun. When it started coursing through my blood, it was all in vain, but my engine hoped that it could get her out of my head to protect my heart, the source of the start and the end. 'Cause I find my hearts a place that when I yearn, I can never learn to stay away. And if on purpose or by mistake, I always end up there for all I can take.
She told me not to take it to heart, but I took it that far anyway. And I took it for all I could take.
This here body's all that I got. You can take it or leave it. Do what you want. She's afraid to get near, that's her fear and she's wrong. 'Cause to get her so close is what makes me so strong.
She told me not to take it to heart. She left town. Hey, the world is free. She told me not to take it to heart. But I took her to heart and now she'll always be with me.
©Pete Squaffle/Joshua Levin 2015