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Oar On, Penelope!

by The Minus 5

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1.
They can fly, it’s true That’s not all they can do We try to identify Quantify the sky You might die for kicks But the high won’t stick It’s all too beautiful, man Too beautiful to land Time hangs hard on our hand A bird makes no demand Try to survive Only the word gets out alive Try to survive Only the word gets out alive Those impossible wings Messengers that bring Inexplicable songs Purple twilight and dawn Oh, oar on, Penelope! Sands of mystery It’s all too beautiful, man Too beautiful to stand Time hangs hard on our hand A bird makes no demand Try to survive Only the word gets out alive Try to survive Only the word gets out alive And the bird is still the word But not for long If the birds forget the words We all go wrong They can fly, it’s true They’re all better than you It’s hard not to mention We are bent by the sun You can punch the cloud It won’t make a sound It’s all too beautiful, man Too beautiful to plan Time hangs hard on our hand A bird makes no demand Try to survive Only the word gets out alive Try to survive Only the word gets out alive Try to survive Only the word gets out alive
2.
Eats like a horse, drinks like a camel A lying sack of shit on every channel She swims like a flute, plays it soft and hateful I swallow her dust, she’s no Marianne or Faithfull There’s never a break, a pausing for breath In a big hurry, the Bludgeoner of Death In a big hurry, the Bludgeoner of Death She thunders like Zeus, Epiphone or epic Cudgels and clubfeet, a legendary all-too-septic Corps of dead corpses, omnipotent wench Shovels and pitchforks, a lovelier rosy stench There’s never a break, a pausing for breath In a big hurry, the Bludgeoner of Death In a big hurry, the Bludgeoner of Death She steals like a church, what a sad tormentor Money and murder, thumbs down for every senator Sage of the stagecoach, who’s as dumb as a gun All across the world, we’re still number one There’s never a break, a pausing for breath In a big hurry, the Bludgeoner of Death In a big hurry, the Bludgeoner of Death In a big hurry, the Bludgeoner of Death
3.
Do I remember anything I said? In one canal and then I go astray Every day’s another litany Moments cave like rocks into the sea Hey! Let the rope hold, Cassie Lee Hey! Let the rope hold, Cassie Lee Hey! Let the rope hold, Cassie Lee Do you remember days on Hastings Head? Well, they say it’s gone but I just can’t say The piles are there, somewhere listening We’re still beating the hell out of the beach Hey! Let the rope hold, Cassie Lee Hey! Let the rope hold, Cassie Lee Hey! Let the rope hold, Cassie Lee Do they remember my sweet nothingness? Ah, time gets fatter on its own decay A million’s okay, but two’s a bit too many A million’s okay, but two’s a bit too many Grab a harpoon and plunge into the breach Hey! Let the rope hold, Cassie Lee Hey! Let the rope hold, Cassie Lee Hey! Let the rope hold, Cassie Lee Hey! Let the rope hold, Cassie Lee Hey! Let the rope hold, Cassie Lee Hey! Let the rope hold, Cassie Lee Hey! Let the rope hold, Cassie Lee Hey! Let the rope hold, Cassie Lee Hey! Let the rope hold, Cassie Lee
4.
I don’t want to hate you anymore Your greedy candle’s exploding A fistful of face won’t make me feel better Let’s bake a cake, keep the oven warm I don’t want to hate anything No, I don’t want to shutter the sun I’m not sure which choir to sing But I do know what I don’t want I do know what I don’t want I don’t want to hate us anymore We roll in our pigshit together It’s time to blow away the wind Share the seeds and plow the pillows I don’t want to hate anything No, I don’t want to shutter the sun I’m not sure which choir to sing But I do know what I don’t want I do know what I don’t want I don’t want to hate anything No, I don’t want to shutter the sun I’m not sure which choir to sing But I do know what I don’t want I do know what I don’t want I don’t want to hate me anymore The piano quit drinking on its own Still sweetly and sickly out of tune In the crawlspace of my caverns
5.
It’s as if you almost willed it to be From underneath a grasshopper’s tree Since the invention of eternity The Garden of Arden She colorizes all of my dreams A golden voice from a silver machine The queen of jokers in a sea of green The Garden of Arden The Garden of Arden I can hear you I can see you When I want to I know how to frame your face I can hear you I can feel you When I’m see-through You can put me back in my place You can put me back in my place She’s the apple of my red eyes Never let her name be trivialized In the eve where the sundown cries The Garden of Arden Eve of the day that never arrives In any Eden that might not die I go wherever she reclines The Garden of Arden The Garden of Arden I can hear you I can see you When I want to I know how to frame your face I can hear you I can feel you When I’m see-through You can put me back in my place You can put me back in my place The Garden of Arden She colorizes all of my dreams A golden voice from a silver machine The queen of hearts in a sea of green The Garden of Arden The Garden of Arden The Garden of Arden The Garden of Arden
6.
Last Hotel 03:51
In the realm of sinking ferries (Here we are, here we are) There is where you often find me (Here we are, here we are) Down the road apothecaries (Here we are, here we are) Do the twist around the quay (Here we are, here we are) A county of the innocents Pitching backward in the bog Ravens at the Rave’n’Go tents A Christmas Sears catalog Stretched as if from mast to map (There we go, there we go) A line of current wire can’t cross (There we go, there we go) Lath and plaster oozing sap (There we go, there we go) Sailors strapped with yards of floss (There we go, there we go) A country of dead slow descendants Clutching bag full, down the caste Petrified like wounded penguins When Dallas says: “You’re here at last” Now you dig just what I’m hearing (Here at last) Everyday’s a sweet refrain (Here at last, here at last) Angels sing and jangle earrings (Here at last, here at last) Lovecoats clatter through the frame (Here at last, here at last) A gospel of the residents Spin the Bible and kiss yourself A dwelling for all occupants Deliverance, our last hotel
7.
Bison Queen 03:47
Hers desire verses, stockings well forthcoming Bonfires canyonize argentite canoes Rapids of my pulse, time tunnel slumming All along the riverbank, thirsty for a snooze Once the Colorado ran red for hand painters Arizona took one look at Beefheart Martyr coat of arrows, would-be woodcut sainters Piled high like bodies in future burro cart Lousy limousine, shout out to the maimed Deadman call her pilot, his bay is unclaimed Roll the Hopper buckskin, bulbs flash at bear Here come the Bison Queen A gift she never needed, damn a broken-down Hoover Rambling ‘round Leadbelly and Associates Diving like duck drunk, sad furniture movers Union song for leaving, cry boat drag women Soviets Lousy limousine, shout out to the maimed Deadman call her pilot, his bay is unclaimed All across Dakotas, when Deadwood wasn’t there Here come the Bison Queen Lousy limousine, shout out to the maimed Deadman call her pilot, his bay is unclaimed Lay me down or suit me up, she dares to give us health care Here come the Bison Queen Here come the Bison Queen
8.
Staining the world Hints for Heloise What if they work But still don’t please High over cattle Mist and dead moon Frying in spittle Fist like a spoon There went our feet Head over under Read from old spleen Empty of wonder All things are stolen Or borrowed at best Nothing is broken Nothing is broken Just falling like jets Fight like a Croat Drive like a Serb Smile like a post Smell like a curve Yell from the well Pass the old bread You lie to yourself Lie down to forget All things are stolen Or borrowed at best Nothing is broken Nothing is broken Just falling like jets Falling like jets Falling like jets Falling like jets Open close hands Rinse then repeat Acid for romance Gas for the least Staining the world Melting like sky You were stargirled But still gotta try All things are stolen Or borrowed at best Nothing is broken Nothing is broken All things are stolen Or borrowed at best Nothing is broken Nothing is broken Just falling like jets Falling like jets Falling like jets Falling like jets Falling like jets Falling like jets Falling like jets Falling like jets Falling like jets
9.
I’m gonna take a stroll Eat a piece of fruit Believe in rock ‘n’ roll Buy a burgundy suit Burgundy suit I been down, so down Like totally depressed Can’t get out of bed now I’d rather be possessed Rather be possessed Too much information Mostly bad or plain wrong I can’t change the station I wanna hear The Great Beyond Hear The Great Beyond Burgundy suit, ah ah Burgundy suit Burgundy suit, ah ah Burgundy suit Thanks for ayahuasca Mushroom microdoses Ketamine therapy A hopeful diagnosis Hopeful diagnoses The world is sucking hard Our future looking grim My feathers may be tarred I’ll still be your Sunny Jim Your Sunny Jim, him Burgundy suit, ah ah Burgundy suit Burgundy suit, ah ah Burgundy suit Burgundy suit, ah ah Burgundy suit Burgundy suit, ah ah Burgundy suit
10.
When the bell says no one’s coming (Blow in my bag) If your cup keeps over-running (Blow in my bag) Go steam yourself, flat fork relay Napoleon rowboat, back and forth across the bay Yeah it’s pretty hard to breathe (Blow in my bag) Just another dynasty smother (Blow in my bag) Going nitrous without a rudder (Blow in my bag) Slogging the edge, Iliad tattoo Quality Belfast, suicide trades are taboo Yeah it’s pretty hard to breathe (Blow in my bag) Come to me beyond the sea We shall fall upon your knee All for us, the air is free We embrace insanity Here she comes, the Saxophone Gibson (Blow in my bag) Horizon hot and white as gypsum (Blow in my bag) Urbanite sours, Cutty Sark towers Dial-a-song drunkard, morphing around, chomping all flowers Yeah it’s pretty hard to breathe (Blow in my bag) Come to me beyond the sea We shall fall upon your knee All for us, the air is free We embrace insanity Yeah it’s pretty hard to breathe (Blow in my bag) Yeah it’s pretty hard to breathe (Blow in my bag) Blow in my bag (Blow in my bag) Blow in my bag (Blow in my bag) Yeah it’s pretty hard to breathe (Blow in my bag) It’s pretty hard to breathe (Blow in my bag) Blow in my bag (Blow in my bag) Blow in my bag (Blow in my bag) My bag (Blow in my bag) Oh, my bag (Blow in my bag)
11.
Sharktooth 02:46
There was a cosmos There was a sea It took a piece of your heart A little piece of me Out of the desert Down from the stars The truth Sharktooth Hang it on a string, man Circle round your neck The mesa of Shiprock God’s discotek Out of the desert Down from the stars The truth Sharktooth They ran across red plains Swam through the sand The hourglass was shattered Just like the band Down to the nightclub And dressing room stars The truth Sharktooth It’s a very small world With a very big sign Where a neon message Says “It’s time to dine” Out of the darkness Route 51 The truth, the truth, the truth Sharktooth
12.
The days of future pastel They were not invited here Leave them in the roadway Like a twisted deer There’s a cloud inside me When it rains it pours Water hasn’t failed yet To run back to the source I am not becoming Disciple, wolf or priest A failure to know no one We shall not be released We will not be released We will not, no never be released Who needs to know so much Vacuum jar the artifacts Grind them into parables Splayed across the wax I will not be latered Embittered or coerced The first take is the best one And cannot be reversed I am not becoming Disciple, wolf or priest A failure to know no one We shall not be released We will not be released We will not, no never be released Flung and far to Chelsea Southwest Hangover Square Face plant on the Steinway Tone cluster extraordinaire I am not becoming Disciple, wolf or priest A failure to know no one We shall not be released We will not be released We will not, no never be released We will not be released We shall not

about

What is The Minus 5 in Year 2025? You might well ask! What started off in 1993 as a studio side project (as the Young Fresh Fellows were easing up on their typically frenetic activities), it was originally meant to explore the folkier, more dismal side of rock’s palate/pallet. Now thirty years on, it seems to be just another rock band — a band with a rather extensive discography, belying its part-time status. Which is pretty awesome anyway.

The new album, Oar On, Penelope!, was in fact recorded in classic Get Back style, gathered in a room (or two), musicians tackling ideas that had not been demoed, or heard, or performed previously — and yet they seemed to be songs, rather instantly upon inception. The core band on this effort is Scott (The Hoople) McCaughey, ever-ready Peter Buck, Linda Pitmon, Kurt Bloch. And Debbi Peterson added her golden voice to every song. Plus guest appearances by Spencer Tweedy, Patterson Hood, and Ed Stasium (more on him later). Somehow, less thought was put into this record... which is actually an extremely positive development!

The songs feel immediate, relatively unadorned, and somewhat more positive in an indescribable way. The words could be termed stream-of-consciousness, which is nothing new from this sector, but there seems to be a ray of light fighting its way through the usual twisted tales. Coming after 2019’s Stroke Manor, a slew of pandemic long-distance collaborations (The No Ones, Luke Haines & Peter Buck, Junior League, solo-ish efforts) and three volumes of Neil Young-themed albums, the record just fell into place. Grabbing any opportunity to pull friends into the studio for a quickie session, with no preparation at all, just seemed to work wonders. Maybe it was a good idea to make music somewhere besides the frigid dank subterranean chamber called The Dungeon of Horror?

In mid-2024, with a 12-song collection sounding ready for consumption, Scott apparently got it into his head to see what someone else might make of it... not just anyone, in fact, but Ed Stasium, whose work has intrigued the M5 leader for many years. Ramones, Smithereens, Replacements, Talking Heads, Motörhead, Living Colour, Hoodoo Gurus, Long Ryders, The Dickies ... hell, he even worked on “Midnight Train to Georgia!” Ed was willing to take on the project, and his enthusiasm while mixing, as well as adding odds and sods (or “secret sauce” as he calls it), really took these songs into another realm, without tarnishing the already-established garage-vibe. The only way Scott could describe the difference Ed made to the record was by saying: “It sounds more classic... like a record you might hear on the radio.”

So, here is the umpteenth Minus 5 platter, lovingly titled Oar On, Penelope! We hope you enjoy it!

credits

released May 30, 2025

2025 Yep Roc, LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Produced by Scott McCaughey
Mixed by Ed Stasium

Basic tracks recorded by:
Johnny Sangster at Crackle & Pop, Seattle (Side One)
Steve Drizos at The Panther, Portland (Side Two)

Additional recording:
Scott McCaughey, Dungeon Of Horror, Portland, OR
Ed Stasium, Eight Palms Ranchero, Poway, CA

Mastered by Kurt Bloch at Strictly Vintage, Seattle, WA

Songs by Scott McCaughey, MacNor Music (BMI) 2024
Administered by BMG Music

Photos by Mary Winzig and/or Scott
Insert Painting by Kev’n Kinney
Layout by Nathan Golub

Linda Pitmon - drums
Kurt Bloch - lead guitar
Scott McCaughey - vocals, guitar, piano, Farfisa, bass
Debbi Peterson - vocals
Peter Buck - bass, 12-string

Spencer Tweedy - drums on “Bison Queen” and “Falling Like Jets”
Patterson Hood - backing vocals on “Let the Rope Hold, Cassie Lee” and “Blow in My Bag”
Ed Stasium - guitar, tambourine where needed!

Let us not sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the death of sanity. — Lawrence Ferlinghetti

It behooves you to be Generous. — Louise Glück

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The Minus 5 Portland, Oregon

The Minus 5 is a rock/folk/pop collective captained by Scott McCaughey (see: "Scott McCaughey" c/o "The Internet", for further reliable information), with Peter Buck often aboard as communications officer. Collaborators regularly feature friends from Wilco, Decemberists, Posies, and literally hundreds of other recalcitrant comrade combos. Everyone gives their all, and no one can be counted on. ... more

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