Television EP

by Post War

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Play this on your home stereo or in your car-without-a-USB-jack, or take it down to the shocking disc jockey competition at the corner pub and chuck it on between Teenage Dirtbag and Rhinestone Cowboy. All photos by Braden Palmer.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Television EP via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 7 days

      $5 AUD or more 

     

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

      $5 AUD

     

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03:18
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about

Some bits and bobs that we recorded in the tail end of 2015 just before B went away to see the world and the rest of us enjoyed the heat of a particularly brutal summer. Ended up including two songs that were written with different iterations of the band: On Tilt, with our first guitarist, and Prize Racehorse, which started as a song from a previous band.

All songs were performed by Post War, engineered and mixed at the Blast Furnace by Moose Cuthbertson and mastered at Azimuth by Bill Henderson.

credits

released May 20, 2016

J Klynsmith - Vocals, guitar
L Grimwood - Vocals, guitar
A Buchanan - Bass
B Palmer - Drums, percussion

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license

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about

Post War Adelaide, Australia

Jingle jangle alternative guitar band. For fans of: Santana riffs in your bedroom, playing videogames, slam jam poetry, Space Jam remixes, other bashful behaviour.

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Track Name: On Tilt
Late at night I'm television,
wired for sound and tired and missing
the bands and cathode rays I used to know
where every act was one audition,
and I'm lit up, on tilt, a given,
cruising off to bed in static glow.

You pull me down and it throws me off kilter,
you smoke a cigarette right down to the filter.
Good thing you and I are built to last.

I am not your talk show host,
This is not some golden tone.
This is not a city life,
You are not some microphone.

You pull me down and it throws me off balance,
Beer makes me numb and wine makes you callous.
Good thing you and I are built to last.
Track Name: Prize Racehorse
Where do I begin? The young
are never making sense.
They whisper words I've never sung,
negligible nonsense.

Where do we end up, my love?
That isn't what I meant.
I love you like my brother loves
receiving compliments.

And you are my award,
my prize racehorse,
and as you ride, restored,
my sight distorts.
And you're no star of track and field,
you're not a beautiful person,
but you are my award.
Track Name: Carey and Her Idle Songs
You were in love for a short time,
with an idle song in the back of your mind.
I scribbled it down using paper and turpentine,
but I always forgot that the first and last rhyme.
Now you don't get excited about anything
and I don't get upset when the phone doesn't ring
as much as it used to.

I was in love for a short time
with an idle song in the back of your throat.
I scribbled it down and you said that you didn't mind,
but when I said them out loud, I started to choke.
Now you don't get excited about anything
and I don't get upset when the phone doesn't ring
quite as much as it used to.
Track Name: Mt. President
Carefully I cast my net
into the mud of Mt President.
I am saving every cent
to send you to another town.
That one's outta luck,
that dog's not gonna hunt.

Carefully I cast my net
and save our state.
I will never forget
I asked to wait.
Now I'm only half awake,
lethargy is not a saint.

Carefully I cast my net
into the mud of Mt President.
I am taking any bet
from anybody in the town.
This one's comin' first,
am I just another curse?

Carefully I cast my net
and weigh you down.
You told me that I "had better
stick around."
But I am only half-awake
somewhere in another state.