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American Soccer

by Packy Lundholm

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Jσƈƙσɱσ
Jσƈƙσɱσ thumbnail
Jσƈƙσɱσ This as all Packy's works of art (including everything he does for that matter) are all an amazing conglomeration of incredible talent, full on dedication and hard work. No efforts are ever spared giving you all he's got. You won't find anyone more earnest for your happiness in his efforts on Earth. If you've never heard Packy before, please, go see him play live. You'll be hooked like a fish.
Konjus
Konjus thumbnail
Konjus Packy is great, Period. Fun, enjoyable rock music. Favorite track: La La La.
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    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of TRACK SABBATH, Vol. 3: Ten For Ten, TRACK SABBATH, Vol. 2: Songs of a Very Bad Year, TRACK SABBATH Vol. 1, American Soccer, and Now Is The Time. , and , .

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1.
Green 03:47
The redheads are dressed in green tonight And I’m pretty sure it’s for you and me Won’t you tell her that I miss her so And I can’t believe it’s not my scene Everybody looking for somebody to love Or a reason to leave No one’s happy with the way that it is today The way it could be The days are getting short again And it looks like I’m getting older, too I take back some of what I said Welcome back to the town you knew Everybody looking for somebody to love Or a reason to leave No one’s happy with the way that it is today The way it could be The redheads are dressed in green tonight And I’m pretty sure it’s for you and me Now won’t you give me just one more chance Just one more is all I need Everybody looking for somebody to love Or a reason to leave No one’s happy with the way that it is today The way it could be
2.
If you want a lover You know you have to love her From your very heart And if you want to keep her You know you must believe her From the very start From the very start ‘Cause if you want to see Young Magdalene She has to want to see your face again It’s a lonely time, without her shine Hiding under covers Acting like young lovers do You know it’s true Fight for her you clap your hands Have a smoke, strike up the band A whole new you is showing through ‘Cause if you want to see young Magdalene She has to want to see your face again It’s a lonely time, without her shine On you Don’t you want her here with you All those things you want to do Yes you want to see her through
3.
La La La 02:59
I was elated, now frustrated Every time I talk to you It’s always the same, some terrible game To impossibly prove myself to you I go “la la la la la la la” It’s always the same, a terrible game I go “la la la la la la la” I’m drowning you out, not listening Not listening, I swear I’m not listening When I call you back it’s a panic attack A subsequent week of fear and doubt It’s this or it’s that, it’s things from the past Pure disappointment through and throughout I go “la la la la la la la” It’s this or it’s that, things from the past I go “la la la la la la la” I’m drowning you out, not listening Not listening, I swear I’m not listening It’s like I’m talking to the wall When you don’t even seem to care at all, woo Muting you, I’m refuting you I’ll keep you at arm’s length here on out Putting you down, I’m back on the ground No longer have to make that sound I go “la la la la la la la” I’m putting you down, back on the ground I go “la la la la la la la” I’m drowning you out, not listening Not listening, I swear I’m not listening
4.
Swing Low 03:29
I saw your picture, it brought me back More than just a memory, more than a man Twenty-four years you know it passed by like a dream Look for advice but the answer’s not there Hear for your voice but it’s silent downstairs I know what I know but I don’t know what I don’t know And I try, try, try, to keep you in mind But it hurts, hurts, hurts, when you’re out of sight Wherever you’ve gone, I wanna be there Swing low sweet chariot, bring me home to your arms The last time I saw you is there but it ain’t The story is vivid but the picture is faint Man, I can’t wait to tell this story to you Time waits for no one, especially when You try to live it all over again How do I move to the future and stay by your side?
5.
Louie 02:11
I was only ‘bout five years old When I knew that you were no good You never did quite what you should Obviously born under a bad sign All the neighbors and the teachers and the priest Said there’s a devil living in side And your tongue is fit to be fried But you never changed your precious ways Ooh, Louie, what do you do to me I’d like to tell you that you’re mean And kick you to the street But I just can’t let you go, sayin’ Ooh, Louie, what does it mean to me You got the thing I love behind those eyes But you make it hard to sympathize You tell me “beauty’s in the eye of the bitch” Like you got something to prove Like your prose was meant to move Me to your bitter, judgmental side I wasn’t raised with an iron fist But I know how to keep it in line You gonna step on me one more time, I might have to do something I will regret Ooh, Louie, look at what you do to me I’d like to tell you that you’re mean And kick you to the street But I just can’t let you go, sayin’ Ooh, Louie, what does it mean to me You got the thing I love behind those eyes So I just can’t let you go No I just can’t let you go I’d like to tell you that you’re mean And kick you to the street But I just can’t let you go No I just can’t let you go
6.
Child 05:01
If I had one more question Maybe just one more call Would I find the answer, Would I find anything at all? Like, how long till the sunset? Will it rise again? You saw my beginning, Will I see you at the end? If I was a little bit bolder, Maybe said some more, I think I might have helped you At least open the door And if I was a little bit older, Well now I’m copping out Again with my excuses Is that what this is about? I am my father’s son Alone here in the wild All my battles lost and won I am my mother’s child Child If I was another man In another family It would not be the same way The way it ought to be You fed into my passion And you gave me all I need Yeah, it was far from perfect But perfect isn’t free I am my father’s son Alone here in the wild All my battles lost and won I am my mother’s child Child
7.
Polyester, jheri curl, and a rosary Rolling in a beat down Buick Century Lost, out of gas, needs to make a call He says “spare me a dollar or anything you got at all” Now if you sympathize, dry your tears He’s been hitting this corner for years Like grifters overworking the territory You might fool them some, but you can’t fool me The tycoon’s son co-opted the rebel yell And wouldn’t you know it, he hides it pretty well Belting out revolution melodies With a message that died with the 1950s Now I’d like to wish you well But you got too much hate to sell Like punk rockers writing jingles for the RNC You might fool them some, but you can’t fool me They say one’s born every minute And every minute another one falls Don’t become some cold statistic You better keep your head up Or you know what’s gonna happen You know what’s gonna happen to you Now everybody’s hung up on the telephone Every waking hour can’t leave the damn thing alone Spreading your lies and your old wives’ tales Putting your personality up for sale Now you’d like me to think you’re deep But I don’t believe a thing I read Like the tales you’re telling on the tiny screen Like grifters overworking the territory Like punk rockers writing jingles for the RNC You can’t fool me
8.
She’s got the style She’s got the grace She put everything in it’s right place I’m rolling over I’m playing dead I just can’t get that face out of my head Now please Lord let this be my last goodbye Bring an end to all these lonely times What’s it gonna take to make you only mine? Please Lord let this be my last goodbye She’s got the silver She’s got the gold She don’t do exactly what she’s told We drink the whiskey Out of the jar Everybody knows just who we are So I said…
9.
I don’t care what Dave Grohl said Ya can’t make it in rock and roll Ya can’t put on a good old-fashioned show For the kids Ya gotta comb your hair that way Ya gotta watch out for what ya say ‘Cause ya never know When your sponsors can hear But don’t let it get ya down There’s plenty of work to go around Like at the bank, or maybe Your local drum machine store I don’t care what your hippie dad says Ya just can’t make it in rock and roll Ya got no one to pay for your blow anymore
10.
The spring, it comes with a vengeance Of clouds in the sky And all we know to do is cower and hide When it rolls in and the bursts begin I go without fear I remember what it is that brought me here It’s a hard time Happens all the time, but I know That without these muddy waters My crops won’t grow long And if not for breaking muscle I’d never grow strong Without my darker days I wouldn’t know I’m alright So I thank the falling rains for my life Sometimes dreams get smashed like tempered glass On the passenger side What you hold dear can disappear In the blink of an eye It’s a constant reminder, we’re not in control Hold on as long as you'd like, until you must let go Start believing Life has an evening, but I know That without these muddy waters My crops won’t grow long And if not for breaking muscle I’d never grow strong Without my darker days I wouldn’t know I’m alright So I thank the falling rains for my life Yes, I thank the falling rains for my… It was beautiful on Thursday, with the clouds so low We talked about the future and the radio And all the things we set upon and promised to do But before too long they came back with the news Though I miss you I’m always with you, and I know That without these muddy waters My crops won’t grow long And if not for breaking muscle I’d never grow strong Without my darker days I wouldn’t know I’m alright So I thank the falling rains for my life

credits

released April 11, 2016

Produced by Packy Lundholm and Noam Wallenberg
Recorded at Rax Trax Recording and Tight Eye Studios, Chicago IL
Mastered by David Glasser, Airshow Mastering

All songs by Packy Lundholm

Most instruments by Packy Lundholm, with contributions on various instruments and vocals by:

John Szymanski - electric sitar
Angela Martin - vocals
RJ Mitchell - vocals
Nathional Warren - vocals
Kory Quinn - vocals
Jonathan Johnson - vocals
Nate Urbansky - congas
Sam Fullerton - tenor and bari sax
Doug Schuler - trumpet
Edwin Velazquez - trombone
Andrew Lothian - vocals
Brian Mazzaferri - vocals
Chris Lundholm - guitar textures
Chuck Bontrager - violin and viola
Ali Herbst - cello
James Ross - double bass
Tawny Newsome - vocals
Bethany Thomas - vocals
Noah Plotkin - percussion
Herf Yamaya - upright bass
Phil Ajjarapu - pedal steel
Pete Lundholm - bass guitar

Cover Photo by Michael Schaffer
Design and Artwork by James Wenzel

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Packy Lundholm Chicago, Illinois

Chicago musician/producer/songwriter occasionally makes his own records and puts 'em right here

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