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FAKE NOSTALGIA: An Anthology of Broken Stuff

by Tempertwig

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about

Tempertwig (1999-2004) were a three piece from South London. They featured Ben and Adam Parker of the acclaimed groups Nosferatu D2 (nosferatud2.bandcamp.com) and The Superman Revenge Squad Band (thesupermanrevengesquadband.bandcamp.com).

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"Angled hooks, mathematical elasticity, and unbridled ferocity, the Parker brothers are the lost pioneers of the indie-emo scene." - Cereal and Sounds

"It’s a cliché to say that the Parkers were ahead of their time – but it’s certainly true that the songs on FAKE NOSTALGIA are as relevant now as when they were recorded almost twenty years ago." - Beautiful Freaks

"It may have been written almost twenty years ago, yet listening to this collection, Tempertwig feel like they were not a band who ever really tried to fit in, as such they sound as fresh and intriguing now as they ever did." - For the Rabbits

"It's simply stunning and sounds like the future even though it's over 15 years old." - The Devil Has the Best Tuna

"Melancholic, tired anger...classic Parker brothers, the vulnerable honesty balanced with an unceasing self-consciousness, the cost of trying to communicate candidly in a culture that Mark Fisher labels ‘capitalist realism’—where everything has long since been used up and commodified, and nothing new can emerge." - Various Small Flames

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The cult work of Ben and Adam Parker has found fans at Public Radio International, Drowned in Sound, Gold Flake Paint, DIY Mag, BBC Radio, TLOBF and many more.

FAKE NOSTALGIA: An Anthology of Broken Stuff is a collection of Parker brothers material from their early and urgent days. Lyrical, frantic, minimalistic and eclectically unpredictable, theirs is a sound which has launched labels a decade apart. This collection is released by Audio Antihero Records, who formed in 2009 to release Nosferatu D2’s lone album, and, the fledgling Randy Sadage label, who are debuting in 2019 to release this Tempertwig anthology. This music means a lot to a few.

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"FAKE NOSTALGIA" was premiered by Cereal & Sounds - www.cerealandsounds.com/2019/03/24/premiere-tempertwig-fake-nostalgia-an-anthology-of-broken-stuff/

* "Comfort Blanket" and "Everything Can Be Derailed" were premiered by Various Small Flames - varioussmallflames.co.uk/2019/03/07/tempertwig-comfort-blanket-everything-can-be-derailed

* "This Means Everything, This Don't Mean a Thing" was premiered by Beautiful Freaks -
beautifulfreaks.co.uk/features/2019/03/premiere-tempertwig-this-means-everything-this-dont-mean-a-thing

* "Apricot" was premiered on For the Rabbits - fortherabbits.net/2019/03/21/premiere-tempertwig-apricot/

Ben Parker's album commentary Track-by-Track feature on The Alternative - www.getalternative.com/track-by-track-tempertwig-fake-nostalgia-an-anthology-of-broken-stuff

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"The songs on this album were recorded over the duration of the lifespan of tempertwig, starting from when we got half-decent and finally got rid of our initial set of songs. From memory, I believe they incorporate recordings by Paul Tipler (who, importantly to me at the time, had preciously recorded Leatherface at their peak), the engineer at a place in Oxford, Adam (tempertwig drummer) and our brief second-guitarist Mark. Put together, I think they represent the setlist of our last gigs.

The band were made up of me, my brother Adam, and our friend Daniel. Highlights included the time "Comfort Blanket" was played by Steve Lamacq on Radio 1 and described us as "Jarvis Cocker singing with Dinosaur Jr", and being asked to headline in Bath based upon one listen by a very enthusiastic promotor. Lowlights included a gig at the Hope and Anchor when a skinhead threw sandwiches at us, and turning up at the gig in Bath to play to an audience made up of just one very enthusiastic promotor.

We wrote the songs back in the early 2000s and, thanks to this release, I'm listening to them for the first time since now. I can enjoy them now, because enough time has passed that they sound like someone else. I'm not sure they sound like the mixture of the Afghan Whigs and Arab Strap that I was initially aiming for, but maybe that's not such a bad thing after all.” - Ben Parker (2019)

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Press & Label Contact: info @ audioantihero dot com

credits

released March 29, 2019

Tempertwig were:
Ben Parker (Guitar & Vocals)
Adam Parker (Drums)
Daniel Debono (Bass)

Artwork and remastering by Benjamin Shaw - bnjmnshw.wordpress.com
Released by Audio Antihero Records and Randy Sadage Records

Contacts: Ben Parker – ben_hates_penguins @ yahoo dot com / info @ audioantihero dot com

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about

Tempertwig Croydon, UK

Tempertwig (1999-2004) were Ben Parker, Adam Parker and Daniel Debono.

"FAKE NOSTALGIA" is an anthology release of pre-Nosferatu D2 material from the Parker brothers.

Contact:ben_hates_penguins @ yahoo dot com / info @ audioantihero dot com
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Track Name: Bratpack Film Philosophy
We’ll be talking about Bagpuss just to break the ice at parties for the rest of our lives
and I know it
and you know it
and if Bratpack film philosophy’s the only thing that’s good for us then then so be it
I’ll be waiting, I’m still waiting
Like Diana Ross and the Supremes
I’ve got a mobile phone in one hand and a light ale in the other And I’m waiting and I’m waiting and I’m waiting and I’m waiting
You never understand, It’s another wasted summer
Got hundreds of photographs of people that I barely know
And most have got their heads cut off
It’s another wasted summer
I’m sick and tired of duty frees and hours and hours of late night telly Andrew Neil at 2am, Andrew Neil at 3am
I’m sick and tired of duty frees and hours and hours of photograph wastching I’m sick and tired of another wasted summer
We’ll be talking about Bagpuss just to break the ice at parties for the rest of our lives
and I know it
and you know it
and if Bratpack film philosophy’s the only thing that’s good for us then then so be it
I’ll be waiting, I’m still waiting
Like Diana Ross and the Supremes
I’ve got a mobile phone in one hand and a bottle of ale in the other And I’m waiting and I’m waiting and I’m waiting and I’m waiting
You never understand, It’s another wasted summer
Got hundreds of photographs of people that I barely know
And most have got their heads cut off
It’s another wasted summer
I’m sick and tired of duty frees and hours and hours of late night telly Watching Andrew Neil at 2am, Andrew Neil at 3am
I’m sick and tired of duty frees and hours and hours of photograph watching I’m sick and tired of another wasted summer
I’m sick and tired of photographs of people that I barely know
Hours and hours of my life spent, sweat sticking my fingertips together
Reading books about people that I’ll never met, people I don’t care about I’m sick and tired of another wasted summer
Track Name: Falling Apart
Falling Apart in front of people you love
And getting off with ugly girls 2 o’clock every Saturday morning It’s a tough job but someone’s got to do it
Let’s go outside make a face at the window
You go too fast you don’t know what to believe in Your devil mask on, there’s a séance inside
But everybody knows it’s okay
Let’s deconstruct all the people you love
Pull off masks and wings
Like daddy long legs in the hands of particularly brutal children
Let’s go outside make a friend Go outside make a friend
Go outside make a friend
Go outside make a friend
Go outside make a friend
Go outside make a friend
You don’t see eye to eye with
It’s like:
Waiting at stations and nobody coming
It’s like: waiting at stations and nobody coming It’s like: waiting at stations and nobody coming It’s like:
When you get there, she looks exactly like the photograph Oh my god she looks exactly like the photograph
Bad thing
Falling Apart in front of people you love
And getting off with ugly girls 2 o’clock every Saturday morning It’s a tough job
Let’s go outside make a face at the window
You go too fast you don’t know what to believe in Your devil mask on, there’s a séance inside
But everybody knows it’s okay
It’s like:
Waiting at stations and nobody coming
It’s like: waiting at stations and nobody coming
It’s like: waiting at stations and nobody coming It’s like:
If I was a bus stop
I’d be smashed up
And your tag would be left all over me
If I was a bus stop
I’d be smashed up
And your tag would be left all over me
If I was a bus stop
I’d be smashed up
And your tag would be left all over me
If I was a bus
I’d be a double decker
With the top deck severed clean off
If I was a bus stop
I’d be smashed up
And your tag would be left all over me
If I was a bus
I’d be a double decker
With the top deck severed clean off
Track Name: Supersad
Oh my god you’re a mess
Jesus Christ you’re a mess
And to think you used to tell yourself You can do anything
You can be anything
Oh my god
Get yourself into pubs and clubs
And do anything
And be anything
You’re in love she says you tried your best now it’s over Its over its over its over its over its over its over
And the skull inside my head Could be an ashtray one day Just suck out the insides And fill it with butt-ends
I’m stuck in some pub in the heart of the east-end
And tip me up sideways it looks like I’m smiling but hey
Just call me Supersad
And the voice inside my head Could just be static one day Just stuck on a Dictaphone At the British Museum
I’m got futuristic tourists and they’re laughing at my accent
And if they press the fast forward it might sound like I’m happy but happy
I’ve got soul
And I’m Supersad
Just call me Supersad.
Just call me Supersad. Just call me Supersad. Just call me Supersad.
Track Name: Films Without Plotlines
Get the night bus home on your own
The chat-up lines you pulled from books you can’t recall Have let you down again
The girl with the brown hair doesn’t want to know About architecture and films with no plotlines
The girl with the blond hair doesn’t understand
It’s okay she says you can
You can cry if you really want to she says
You’re in a public place and you look frankly pathetic
But you can cry if you really want to she says
This is the nineties, she says, or at least it was at the time
You’ll be okay she says
She says
Just suck in your cheeks she says,
Just suck in your cheeks and you might look a bit like Brett Anderson in the early days
When people actually used to fancy him
Just suck in your cheeks she says, someone loves you, someone cares
She says
She got off the coach at Forest Hill, New Cross, somewhere like that
And for a split second there it looked like she was gonna look around at him
He had his telephone number against the window but oh god no, she was just dodging traffic or something
No-one listened, no one cared, no one listened, no one cared
When he got home that night
He said he was too tired to ever really fall asleep again
He just laid his magazines across the floor and looked at them for about two hours or something Waiting for the sun to come back in to the room and waiting for the telephone to ring
Waiting for Richard and Judy to flicker back onto the screen
And waiting for the phone to ring
Track Name: Comfort Blanket
You made me feel like Ian Curtis tonight “Why is the bedroom so cold” etc, etc Turn the television down
Listen to the traffic outside
Through the walls, through the walls, through the walls, through the walls
You made me feel like Ian Curtis tonight “Why is the bedroom so cold” etc, etc Turn the television down
Listen to the traffic outside
Through the walls, through the walls, through the walls, through the walls
You can shout
You can scream
You can self-destruct if you like I don’t care
I know, I know
You’re my comfort blanket
I know
You made me feel like Ian Curtis tonight “Why is the bedroom so cold” etc, etc Turn the television down
Listen to the traffic outside
Through the walls, through the walls, through the walls, through the walls
You made me feel like Ian Curtis tonight “Why is the bedroom so cold” etc, etc Turn the television down
Listen to the traffic outside
Through the walls, through the walls, through the walls, through the walls
You can snort
You can snore
You can go to bed and try to bore the pants off me if you want I know
You’re my comfort blanket
I know
My mobile phones on, why don’t you text me?
My mobile phones on, why don’t you text me?
My mobile phones on, why don’t you text me?
You say things at night, that’s when they hurt the most I suppose she said Everybody goes away too often she said
Everybody goes too far too often she said
You say these things at night, I don’t want to know what she said in so much detail You hurt yourself in so much detail
Something’s coming over me, and something’s coming over you
You made me feel like Ian Curtis tonight “Why is the bedroom so cold” etc, etc
You made me feel like Ian Curtis tonight “Why is the bedroom so cold” etc, etc
Track Name: Kitchen Stereo
I don’t
Wanna come downstairs and find you there
A product of an overactive imagination gone too far again It’s grown arms, legs, and it’s eating my breakfast
I don’t
‘cause every day it feels like suicide
Ba ba ba
The stereo in the kitchen in the morning – this means nothing to me This means nothing to me
Get yourself on the dance floor she said, she said, she said
You’re much too old to understand, much too young to understand She said, she said, she said
I don’t
Want to wake up one morning and forget who I am It’s not compulsory is it? Is it?
It’s not mandatory at the age of 26, 27?
I don’t
‘cause every day it feels like suicide
Ba ba ba
The stereo in the kitchen in the morning – this means nothing to me
This means nothing to me
Get yourself on the dance floor she said, she said, she said
You’re much too old to understand, much too young to understand these days Get your fingers in your ears and get out. Get out!
Ba ba ba
The stereo in the kitchen in the morning – this means nothing to me she said This means nothing to me
Ba ba ba
The stereo in the kitchen in the morning – it was... it was quite relentless
Track Name: Everything Can Be Derailed
It’s alright
We’ve got the telly on and
It’s alright
We’ll entertain ourselves this time And you can keep the sleeping pills At home, alone, tonight
And everything can be derailed Yeah, everything can be derailed
It’s alright
We can laugh and smile and keep our fingers crossed And we can hide the sleeping pills
Up there, on the bedroom cabinet, on the left
And everything can be derailed Yeah, everything can be derailed
It’s alright
We can take the sleeping pills
It’s alright, it’s not week, it don’t mean a thing
And everything can be derailed Yeah, everything can be derailed
It’s like:
Walking too fast
Giving too much
Trying too hard
Can’t remember
I’ve forgotten, I’ve forgotten, I forgot...
It’s like:
Talking too fast
Trying too hard
Giving too much
Can’t remember
I’ve forgotten, I’ve forgotten, I forgot...
Track Name: Apricot
It’s been said before
A thousand times but better she said Get your face off the radio
You’re not Marvin Gaye she said You’re not Marvin Gaye she said
And everything’s okay
And nothing seems much better than the TB injection that I had as a child but that was vaguely compelling you know
I should have tried
I’m truly sorry about everything I’m truly sorry about everything You know
Fake nostalgia makes me sick
Fake nostalgia makes me sick
Fake nostalgia makes me feel like getting out of this town
It’s been said before
A thousand times but better she said Get your face off the radio
You’re not Marvin Gaye she said You’re not Marvin Gaye she said
And everything’s okay
And nothing seems much better than the TB injection that I had as a child but that was vaguely compelling you know
I should have tried
I’m truly sorry about everything I’m truly sorry about everything You know
Fake nostalgia makes me sick
Fake nostalgia makes me sick
Fake nostalgia makes me feel like getting out of this town
I tried to go too far – I guess it wasn’t really in me I tried, I tried, I tried, I tried...
I tried to lose myself – I guess it wasn’t really in me I tried, I tried, I tried, I tried...
Track Name: This Means Everything, This Don't Mean A Thing
This means everything, this don’t mean a thing
I’m sorry about improper grammar and spelling on everything with more than three syllables Like agoraphobia, encyclopaedia, etc, etc
This means everything, this don’t mean a thing
I’m sorry I always made you say you love me just to shut me up in carparks, cafes, restuarants and suchlike... I’m sorry
This means everything, this don’t mean a thing
I’m sorry, that’s it. Full stop.
I’m not Bono. I’m not Bono.
This isn’t U2. This isn’t the song that got you and your girlfriend back together again.
This means everything, this don’t mean a thing
I’m sorry, that’s it. Full stop.
I’m not Bono. I’m not Bono.
This isn’t U2. This isn’t the song that got you and your girlfriend back together again. This isn’t the song that got you through the storm of ’87 – I’m sorry.
This isn’t Achtung Baby – I’m sorry. This isn’t the Joshua Tree – I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry...
Track Name: The Opener
She says this city’s still a part of you
There’s nothing you can really do
It’s like a glue, or a crap tattoo
Or just like a stain you can’t get off your trousers in the morning She says this city’s still a part of you
And every time you smile there’s this network of lines that work their way across your face And they’re gradually making up a perfect roadmap of central Croydon
You hate your friends but that’s okay I think they’re feeling the same way
Get on that coach and pay your fair And get your body out of there
She says sing a song that makes me cry Or write a book that makes me feel alone And I’ll feel alone
For you I’d do the strangest things
I’d change my name or get a new tattoo
And I hate tattoos – I’d get He-man on one arm, and a smurf on the other
She says sing a song that makes me cry Or write a book that makes me feel alone And I’ll feel alone
Yeah, I’ll feel alone
For you
Track Name: Heartfelt Letter To An Ex-Friend
Pretending it’s okay
I miss you, but it’s okay
A Sunday, a Monday
(and it’s the stupid songs that always seem to make you cry) A Friday, a Monday
(and it’s the stupid songs that always seem to make you cry) 2am, a sad song, Bon Jovi, or anyone
(and it’s the stupid songs that always seem to make you cry) And I miss you, I miss you, I miss you...
I might not write it or sent it, but it’s the thought that counts you know This is a heartfelt letter to an ex-friend
Who never understands
It’s been seven months since our last conversation
This is a heartfelt letter you know
You never understand, you never understand
What’s a heart? It’s just a piece of meat in cellophane - £2.50, special offer I miss you, I miss you, I miss you

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