The Wrens – The Meadowlands (2003)

The Wrens, from New Jersey, Alternative Indie-rock. Despite being together since 1989 they’ve only released 3 albums, this their last in 2003.

1. The House That Guilt Built (1.22)

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2. Happy (5.33)

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“I’ll be all right
Don’t worry ’bout me
Aren’t you happy now?
You got what you want
I wanted you
But I’m over that now
I’m over it”

3. She Sends Kisses (5.57)

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“Ten tons against me, and you’ve gone.
I put your favorite records on.
And sit around.
It spins around.
And, you’re around again.”

4. This Boy Is Exhausted (4.17)

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5. Hopeless (5.08)

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“And now you’re sorry for the things you did to me
I want you to know
I feel I was the one who got used and use to
Just about anything you would tell me
But those days are more than over now”

6. Faster Gun (3.50)

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7. Thirteen Grand (4.09)

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8. Boys, You Won’t (4.29)

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9. Ex-Girl Collection (4.39)

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“Ann slams in
Another lightning round begins
This could get interesting
Where’s Ann been?
She pours herself a don’t-ask gin
No ice and light on the bitters
I’m done with quitters
“Why? Charles, I found out
Wipe that smile off your mouth
I think it’s tell-me time”
Britt hit hard
She found my box of Beth’s best cards
Hand cut and signed with ‘X’s
Called at work
“Happy anniversary, jerk”
And I just laughed at the timing
With you on line two still crying
“Why play sex on the cuff
Does Beth like it rough?
And learn your dirty lines?
And keep her hair cropped
(The other shoe dropped)
Is this how men mark time in couples?”
She cursed
(This sounds so rehearsed)
As Ann, hand on hip, accusing me to the rafters
The words turn and spit
And scorch right through to the plaster
I’m called ten kinds of a bastard
Curses come faster”

10. Per Second Second (3.38)

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11. Everyone Chooses Sides (4.39)

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12. 13 Months in 6 Minutes (6.50)

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“not yet 21
with introductions done
a first slow dance just ends
I was at my best
we ignored the rest
(my band and your friends)
but as better night became best day
we left the party while last records played
what started as dessert back at your house
ended on the couch
hours at your mouth
sunday’s on our hands
we followed were it led
I followed you to bed
we started secret plans
forward 7 months: I’ve only seen you once
I never call on time
trying to seem tough
I said one visit’s enough
enough to keep you mine
(of course it wasn’t)
we were done by June
you’d graduate and leave for london soon
your layover at newark’s near my house
we met for dinner there
just one hour to spare
your 20’s all mapped out
I’m in my driest drought
feeling old and shot and how
and this is what I thought:
I seem to still be caught
I’m a footnote at best
I envy who comes next
wish we could just make out
‘The hour’s almost up’
you said into your cup
and it makes no difference now
as I help lift your bags out
that I’m lost and out of rope
while on my wrist you wrote
your newest number down
I kind of said your name
but you’d turn to your plane
so I backed my car out
I knew we’d never write
(somehow that seemed all right)
but this counts as calling three years out”