KING OF HEARTS

NEW RELEASE

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CalvinRezen@gmail.com

{Poe} 

CONCEPT ALBUM, WORKSHOP

"The Bells" composed by Calvin Rezen

Performance Workshop, Brooklyn 8/19

with Serena Ebony Miller  (Cello)

Commissioned to compose and perform music for Edgar Allen Poe's classic poem, "The Bells" as part of a concept  album and theatrical performance workshop developed by The Culprits Theater Co., New York Composition used for promotional trailer.

The Bells sample clip.mp3
00:00 / 01:08

CLICK FOR SOUND

SOUND & SONG

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King of Hearts

I know you walked across the bridge

I bet you counted every step

You left your house at 5 a.m.

It’s pretty clear you haven’t slept

 

You’ve got stories for your scars

I can see the lies you tell

Your paper cuts from playing cards

While you bleed out in your sterile cell

 

Drawing boxes on the subway

Draw your sword and lay it down

Draw your King of Hearts

if your life is a deck of cards

But you don’t need to wear his crown

 

I snuck up to the roof with you

I watched you screaming at the world

Close the door to ignorance

And open up to insecure

 

You say you’re falling out of touch

You’re running out of steam

But it takes a lot to cross a bridge

And not go swimming in that stream

 

Drawing boxes on the subway

Draw your sword and lay it down

Draw your King of Hearts

if your life is a deck of cards

But you don’t need to wear his crown

 

Ba dah-da da da...

 

Drawing boxes on the subway

Draw your sword and lay it down

Draw your King of Hearts

if your life is a deck of cards

But you don’t need to wear his crown

 

Draw your King of Hearts

if your life is a house of cards

But you don’t need to wear his...

Don’t let him push you in the...

***

Music and lyrics by Calvin Rezen

Calvin Rezen— vocals, guitar, 

Fiona Stocks-Lyons — drums, vocals​

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Green Pants

I washed my green pair of pants
with my shit in the pockets 

I ruined my wallet.
I murdered my phone, 

And a book of ideas
for the things I was writing

were strangled and drowned
in the soapy cyclone

A black ballpoint pen
with the plastic exploded

The permanent ink
ran all over and dried

Jet black proof I was stupid
all down my right leg, 

and I layed down the corpse
of my pants and I sighed

 

My green pair of pants got washed

and the shit in my pockets got wrecked

Now it’s a stained wrinkled pile

What I washed became more of a mess

What I washed became more of a mess

 

My cell phone was cracked
like a bitter man’s joke

I pressed what was left of the buttons
and the circuits inside

Made a sound like a microwave
chock full of hammers

And I watched as it clambered
to live and then die

And my black leather wallet
turned brown in the bleach

Damn! My twenty-three dollars more worthless than none

In a green deranged wad
were my warped founding fathers

It seemed they were frowning
because I was their son

 

My green pair of pants got washed

and the shit in my pockets got wrecked

Now it’s a stained wrinkled pile

What I washed became more of a mess

 

And my photo ID
was completely scrubbed free

of my face, and age and my name

So now no one could see
I was actually me

All they see is that I am to blame

 

I guess that’s a little bit melodramatic

A book, and a phone, an ID,
and some cash

Aren’t hardly enough
to feel stressed and in absence

If they must be destroyed
and then thrown in the trash

 

So then why’s my heart blue,
and my head in a haze

Every ounce of this setback
the end of my days

In this terrible wake,
and this dismal position

The parable states, if it’s bearable listen:

 

Don’t wash your green pair of pants

Lest you think that you can’t be depressed

Don’t wash your green pair of pants

What you wash becomes more of a mess

What you wash becomes more of a mess

What you wash becomes more of a mess

***

Music and lyrics by Calvin Rezen

Calvin Rezen— vocals, guitar

A video for The Gallery was entered into NPR, 2019 Tiny Desk Contest. Click on Youtube link below to check it out!

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The Gallery

There’s a party at the gallery tonight

So Veronica is taking off her bra

See her tits right through her t-shirt, it’s so tight

She doesn’t latch her overalls,

her makeup’s like a baby doll

She’s fucking up her lipstick

getting higher than a kite

 

And Bailey’s got his vintage cowboy threads

His moleskin notebook clutched within his fist

And he’s coaxing some dumb slacktivist to bed

And as he leans in for a kiss,

He make’s sure that there’s witnesses

If your romance isn’t witnessed,

Then you may as well be dead

 

And Georgie’s coming over with his stash

Man, he’s gonna kiss the girls and make ‘em cry

He’s got everything you need to itch the scratch

And some other shit you’ll wanna try

to get yourself electrified

He’ll get you Pentacostal

if you’re down to drop the cash

 

At the gallery tonight

You’ll go to live the dream

Where all the brightest socialites 

All go to see and to been seen

 

So I’m walking down 14th street killing time

Past the yogis and siddhartha’s in the Square

And I’m watching all the play-by-plays online

They’re getting all their pictures shared

For posing in their underwear, 

And praying they’re the muse

of some director’s new design

 

So I’m hoping out to Bushwick on the L

‘Cause someone said I’ve got to play the game

And I’ve got a few ideas I’m trying to sell

But everybody with a name
is only there to buy cocaine 

And find a trendy background
for a picture of themselves

 

But when I arrive, the place is a parade

To my surprise there’s something being missed

There weren’t any pictures in the frames

The exhibition don’t exist, it’s only exhibitionists, 

And you can be a work of art
unless you’re on display

 

At the gallery tonight

You’ll go to live the dream

Where all the brightest socialites 

All go to see and to been seen

 

But by 3 a.m. Veronica was lost

No proper paparazzi ever showed

“You lookin’ here?” she asked me with a scoff

I dropped my eyes and told her no

She raised her hands up to my throat

And shoved me the wall crying 

“Why the fuck not?”

***

Music and lyrics by Calvin Rezen

Calvin Rezen— vocals, guitar, 

Fiona Stocks-Lyons — drums, vocals​

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The Worst Thing I
Could Lose

I guess I do more walking than I used to

But even so, I'm getting thin

I guess I'm not as hungry as I once was

I'm bones and skin; I'm a skeleton

But if a man without a gutless

I'm the biggest cowards in the state

And though I've earned the title I am given

There are worse things I can lose than weight.

I guess I do more talking than I used to

But my logic isn't easy to explain

For one who once was rational as Plato

I'm talking strange; Oh, I feel insane

But if a man who's lost his mind is mindless

You can say I'm short a couple screws

So lock me up in Bedlum or in Bellvue

My marbles aren't the worst things I can lose

I lose myself in bottles til I can barely stand

I wagered all my money on a poker hand

My memories surrender to the times

Something's missing. I couldn't tell you what

But something's missing

I guess I do less sleeping than I used to

I'm sweating through the sheets

The caverns of my eyes grow black as ink

They tunnel deep

Oh I lost my senses; I blew a fuse

And now you're missing

I guess I lost the worst thing I could lose

***

Music and lyrics by Calvin Rezen

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The Captain Goes Down With The Ship

When your boat is full of holes
And the current’s running in 
Though your crew have noble souls
Their bodies can not swim 
In the shadow of a doubt
Your sails are torn and ripped
Only ever one way out 
Captain goes down with the ship

 

When your bailing buckets lost 
When you’re miles from the coast 
For though your life boats have been tossed
There’s no parting with the ghost
There’s no spirit that escapes 
As you sink into the drift
Lying in and at your wake 
The captain goes down with the ship

 

It’s hard to come to terms with vanity 
As water warps the wood and break the boards
As anchors weigh you toward the nether ports
It’s hard to see your youth distort 
It’s harder making deals with sanity 
There’s no salvation in a fantasy 
So when your warring with mortality 
Keep reality secured

 

When I’m finally submerged 
No more miles before I sleep
As every fathom sings my dirge 
I will marvel in the deep
Oh what majesty is fate
That the ocean is our crypt
With tides that rust the golden gates
The captain goes down with the ship

The sea is my unearthly state
The captain goes down with the ship

***

Music and lyrics by Calvin Rezen

MEDIA

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"The Gallery"

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"Green Pants"

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