more from
Dig Bee Records
We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

The Whole Year Inn (digital)

by Patrick Storedahl

supported by
/
  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Double disc set of The Whole Year Inn

    Includes unlimited streaming of The Whole Year Inn (digital) via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 5 days

      $15 USD or more 

     

  • Streaming + Download

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

      $14 USD  or more

     

1.
I’m a dollar eighty-seven, Schlitz Malt Liquor, Seven-Eleven I’m jewel heist, grease fire currency I’m loaded lipstick slingshot, detonated springtime blood clot Sedated, jet-set entropy I’ve said some things…I shouldn’t have said I’ve done some things…that made you think I was just a kid It’s a barrel of worms without a lid…the things I did But the dumbest thing I did would have to be The thing I never did Fashion manipulated lotus lip-lock populated Gene stained denim family tree I’ve read some things…I shouldn’t have read I’ve seen some things…that made me want to crawl back in the crib It’s a barrel of worms without a lid…the things I did But the dumbest thing I did would have to be The thing I never did I’m a man without a country, on a wall like Humpty-Dumpty Maybe I’m cracked but honey, I’m not broken Newly baptized outhouse sect the hobbyhorse’s jewels are wrecked Best to agree than sniper aimlessly across the street I’ve said some things…I shouldn’t have said I’ve done some things…like some derelict hypocrite It’s a barrel of worms without a lid…the things I did But the dumbest thing I did would have to be The thing I never did
2.
Astronaut 02:57
I want to be your plastic, fantastic astronaut Your jiggly, piggly-wiggly juggernaut Your ice cream slobber chop I, I, I, I want to be your astronaut Your astronaut, oh yeah I want to be honey drip, fat-lipped bee-buzz hive Your late night, headlight tunnel-drive Your chocolate flavored alkaline Bee-buzz hive Your bee-buzz hive of love Your bee-buzz hive of love Your bee-buzz hive of love Come on and take me out on a Saturday night I’ll make you feel like you’re moving at the speed of light I want to be your spastic, galactic spaceman now Your burning bush and your golden cow Your upside down cake spaceman now I want to be your spaceman now I want to be your plastic, fantastic astronaut Your jiggly, piggly-wiggly juggernaut Your ice cream slobber chop I, I, I, I want to be your astronaut Your astronaut of love Your astronaut of love Your astronaut of love
3.
There go Cali Parker Hip Shake She bring Mississippi doe-eye She does rush of Milfillusion She packs a sissy-bar smile She studies the mirror and her reflection She might miss the bus, but she makes her connection She wear bubblegum reptile She’s got three-toe end bomb She’s buck-naked to her mukluks She dig Uzi Watusi She hasn’t prayer for absolution She’s gonna kick-start a revolution Come on, come on, come on everybody roll over And smile for me one more time She drop frappuccino faux pas She’s sport Almond Joy Gangsta She bag black sheep politico She takes cauliflower necktie Truth and lies are all imagination Watch her scratch without humiliation Come on, come on, come on everybody roll over And smile for me one more time Downtown brick-steer blood bank She take cracker box alibi She sing pink one and a green one She got no diamond back hybrid She might dance on the television But she don’t come unless it’s her decision Come on, come on, come on everybody roll over And smile for me one more time
4.
Carpet 04:07
I don’t want to be another stain on your carpet this year I don’t want you to feel like you need to take care of me By counting my drinks and these pills Or holding my head when I’m ill Or even brushing my teeth ‘Cause I don’t want to be Another stain on your carpet this year I’m feeling ok and it all feels right to me I don’t want you to feel like I’m turning my back on you ‘Cause all I can do now is leave And if you were me you would see It’s the way it must be ‘Cause I don’t want to be Another stain on your carpet this year I hope you’re not sad when you think of my face in this place I don’t want you to feel like you could’ve done more for me The fault is all mine, it’s not you And I hope you find love and it’s true That I’ll always you But I don’t want to be Another stain on your carpet this year I don’t want to be another stain on your carpet I don’t want you to feel like you need to be clever or quick By taking my shit anymore I’ve gone out the door can’t you see That I don’t want to be Another stain on your carpet this year No, I don’t want to be Another stain on your carpet
5.
When You Die 05:00
So, this is what it’s like when you die I can hardly believe I’ve been waiting for this for my whole life ‘Cause there isn’t any choir singing a song There isn’t any fire and there isn’t any God There isn’t any fanfare or bright white light So, this is what it’s like when you die So, how is it now that you’re all grown up? Is everything as easy for you as you once thought it would be? And when you wake up and look in the mirror Do you know all the answers and is everything clear? And when you shut your eyes, are you pure in thought? So, how is it now that you’re all grown up? I’m sorry if you misunderstood me, but you haven’t seen me clearly I’m sorry if you’re alone, I want to know what you’re thinking I’m sorry if all of your best-laid plans have all gone up in smoke I’m sorry, I’m sorry So, whatcha gonna do after today? With your head so full of words, that you’ve never heard and your mouth can’t say I’m sorry if you feel that I’ve been trite A big bang theory of why you’re alive Jesus Christ couldn’t even show you the way So, whatcha gonna do after today?
6.
With his comic strip grin and fishhook brows he’s difficult to read Like the belly of a reptile lying in the sun He stands by himself, but he’s never alone He’s quite aware of all his faults and charms Like the newsprint slogans cluttering his sleeve Cluttering his sleeve Cluttering his sleeve A blood soaked bed sheet, florescent light And you think something must have crawled up and died A back-alley doctor with dirt ‘neath his nails And he’s counting the teeth in your smile Oh, OOO Yeah A girl with a scar from her smile to her ear Is talking with her hands to some weird puppeteer Who then, stares at her toenails and her kneecap mirrors Because something’s going on in that room over there You shake like a lizard on the end of a stick And you think that you just might be ill I think I’ve got a fever, I’m burning up inside I think I’ve got a fever, I might be going down, I don’t want to stay, I don’t want to stay Girl gonna get messed up, girl gonna fall Girl gonna get messed up and Molly’s gonna cry I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know Molly sits on a porch swing of a big, pink house Humming To Kingdom Come Me, I’ve got a feeling, it’s certainly a feeling I want to leave, I want to go back home They’ve got some wolves down in the valley Down where the young sheep roam She’s got a feeling, it’s certainly a feeling She wants to leave, take her back home We’ve got that feeling, it’s certainly a feeling We want to leave, yeah take us back home
7.
Girlfriend 03:00
You always want what you can’t have Veruca Salt in Loompaland You haven’t a clue what I even mean Off with your head in the guillotine You could spend the whole year in But it won’t matter with the hole you’re in…at all Come on, yeah, she’s just a girlfriend Come on, Come on, Come on she’s just a girlfriend Run out naked in the yard With your coon-skin cap and a two-bit cigar Hidden in a scar just above your heart Are you just retarded? One-eyed Jack and a valium Pick yourself off the ground some Johnny Rotten wearing sandals Molly Ringwold in Sixteen Candles from the state urine Can’t dull the state you’re in Come on, Come on, Come on she’s just a girlfriend Come on, Come on, Come on she’s just a girlfriend Flabby ass-kissing politics You’re upside down talking nonsense Earn more sessions by sleeving Wipe off your nose now it’s bleeding You could spend the whole year in But it won’t matter with the hole you’re in…at all Come on, yeah, she’s just a girlfriend Come on, Come on, Come on she’s just a girlfriend Run out naked in the yard With your coon-skin cap and a two-bit cigar Like a superstar of the avant-garde Are you just retarded? Hide it in a scar just above your heart
8.
Fireplace 03:40
They sit alone in their humble abode It’s not much, but they call it home Hot coals in the fireplace She warms her toes And he shuts his face tonight Subsonic, nosebleed walls Bionic caterwauls Grange hall ballyhoo Mariachi coo, coo, ca choo And Joe DiMaggio and Mrs. Robinson too She’s lying naked on the couch Cigarette hanging from her mouth He’s dancing ‘round in her bra and blouse Mexican subwoofers shake the house And even Speedy Gonzales could not escape this tonight Kick your shoes into the fireplace Tonight, it’s like the Fourth of July Firecrackers in the fireplace tonight, tonight, all right Flickers of light dance above the bed Yellow, green, blue and red The clock reads 3:33 But it don’t matter Because they won’t sleep tonight Supersonic senoritas Gin and tonic or margaritas Grange hall ballyhoo Mariachi coo, coo, ca choo Even Dustin Hoffman and Mrs. Robinson can’t help tonight
9.
Spoons 04:14
The coldness of your pillow tells me you didn’t sleep last night I dreamed I set your body a flame on a beach and it felt alright And walking away I felt absolutely zero remorse Your scent was on my skin like never before You think that I’m strange like spoons in the wall But maybe, baby, I’m not strange at all The moment stretches out like a lazy ol’ cat in the summer sun I’m busy carving words into my skin and it seems like fun And when I’m through I’ll take some pictures of you hanging on the door Later maybe, I’ll take you down and roll you on the floor You think that I’m strange like spoons in the wall But maybe, baby, I’m not strange at all The air around me is hot and wrinkled like an un-ironed shirt The sweat is running off my brow and my hands are in the dirt And walking away I’m dusting off my hands and singing in my heart Looking at the bright side baby, has never been this hard You think that I’m strange like spoons in the wall But maybe, baby, I’m not strange at all Is it all that you had in mind?
10.
Bucky Diddle’s plaid slip-on shoes Pitter-patter down the avenue Instead of 25 years to life For hiding aces and a switchblade knife They said that Molly had just dove and drown They propped her up in the center of town Like a glass-boxed freezer clown Her hair is flowered and her hands are bound Bucky Diddle’s plaid slip-on shoes Are brown and white or are they green and blue His trick knee makes him stagger some His hair is greasy and he smells like rum He caps a tug from Wahkiakum Just because it’s fun Hey Bucky, where’d you get those shoes? I got to get me some they just can’t lose “Fat chance Sugar,” is all he said And that cop, he nearly lost his doughnut He squeaked a Henry and a lactard clam Geoducks or scrambled eggs and Spam A pale horse standing fifteen hands Has died beside the road Bucky Diddle’s plaid slip-on shoes Have served him well, but they have paid their dues Mrs. Chapman said, “He’s just a joke” But he’s not black and white, he’s white and yolk So, you better not finger-poke If you know what I mean
11.
Downtown Doctor Darcy Doesn’t diddle dainty dudes He digs his meat and potatoes on a king-sized table Because nothing else seems to do Downtown Doctor Darcy’s wife Didn’t know it on her wedding day That he gets around with all those men by the pound Because it gives him such a doodah day Downtown Doctor Darcy Doesn’t really have a PHD But his mom and his dad wanted a doctor so bad And that’s how Darcy got his name
12.
Mrs. Chapman’s daughter always says hello to me And though we are not lovers, I’ve always loved her and she loves me Tell us what you really mean We really want to know I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know Mrs. Chapman’s daughter has a garden in her yard We sit playing Rummy and she always gets her cards Now, I don’t think she’s cheating, but I couldn’t say for sure ‘Cause when the liquor is flowing freely, well the whole damn thing’s a blur Tell us what you really mean We really want to know I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know Yeah, yeah, yeah, na, na, na, na Mrs. Chapman’s daughter’s genuine Na, na, na, na, na, na, na… Mrs. Chapman’s daughter has always been a friend of mine Mrs. Chapman’s daughter could chew an ear right off of me She speaks her mind, says her peace, and then she counts to three Mrs. Chapman’s daughter can drink my liquor and my wine Cause Mrs. Chapman’s daughter has always been a friend of mine Tell us what you really mean We really want to know I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know Yeah, yeah, yeah, na, na, na, na Mrs. Chapman’s daughter’s genuine Na, na, na, na, na, na, na… Mrs. Chapman’s daughter has always been a friend of mine
13.
Andy Rattlesnaked a laggard Conjured up some Cash with Mrs. D He fretted all the way back to Tahahuya Just to turn around and end back up in C I see a girl at the seaside yeah, yeah, yeah I see she’s standing all alone boo who, who I’m not so sure how I got here baby But I should be getting home Andy sampled all the flowers He had an Amsterdam good time Though I’ve never known the power I’ve known my own space and time I hear those notes from Jimmy Do Gator Walk and Burrough’s Blues Andy thinks that he ain’t got no friends But I know he’s got more than me and you I see a girl at the seaside yeah, yeah, yeah I see she’s standing all alone boo who, who I’m not so sure how I got here baby But I should be getting home
14.
And they all ran out of time They say she rocked the boat The brakeman’s lost his mind Let me off the train Georgia’s gone to Spain again And the fair had all but closed So, they all just went back home A flag hung low without a breeze you know Her daddy wore a barrel The city hall bricks were painted green I’ve kept some secrets Because everybody falls in love with her Toasting drags and playing Steve McQueen No she can’t see me I’ve kept my distance So she won’t know my true intentions Her eyes are lonely now I hope she falls I hope she falls in love I hope she falls in love with me Tell me mister have you seen a bullet blistered ballerina Walking through the streets here all alone I don’t think she realizes there aren’t any new surprises And an unsuspecting maid will find her note I’ve kept some secrets Because everybody falls in love with you Toasting drags and chasing Steve McQueen I’ve kept my distance So you won’t know my true intentions Your eyes are lonely now I hope you fall I hope you fall in love I hope you fall in love with me I hope she falls I hope she falls in love I hope she falls in love with me
15.
Roughed up and pickled Spun around and tickled One-eyed Betty’s got her hands where they don’t belong Held down and twisted Punch drunk and double fisted Betty, I tell ya I love you, but I’ve got to run I can handle those bacon shakes But some things, honey, I just can’t take Flatfoot boogie…I gotta run Flatfoot boogie…I gotta run Held up at gunpoint Beat up tenderloin Big Gulp punk with a special dug in my ribs Cashbox is open A girl’s down and a window’s broken My bag is full and I think I’m gonna checkout now I hit the door like a thoroughbred I hear bullets whizzing past my head Flatfoot boogie…I gotta run Flatfoot boogie…I gotta run Black jack and craps Pretty girls on my lap They keep shoving those bones right into my hand Snake eyes and busted Everyone’s disgusted I keep rolling those dice on an IOU It’s no time for giving up If I don’t win my number’s is up Flatfoot boogie…I gotta run Flatfoot boogie…I gotta run
16.
I hear the bells at the mission ringing in the lost Ice is gone from the riverbank but it’s still too deep to cross She wears a long white dress, walks through the reeds Easter came early this year but it’s time for me to leave They all say she’s a faith healer but I know the truth she’s a soul-stealer And nothing’s gonna save me now Gotta find a way back home Gotta cut myself free Gotta find a way back home Six bits for the wooden man and I could get myself some sleep I stumbled into Stella’s with a thirst I could not quench Three odd hours on a barstool honey with some bourbon and some branch Local law was dispatched; they cuffed me on the spot Threw up on the county judge and then he locked me up Fifteen days in a 6 x 10, if they let me out I’ll just do it again Nothing’s gonna save me now Gotta find a way back home Gotta cut myself free Gotta find a way back home Because that kid don’t look like me So you can grin like a jester and mumble with your steel wool teeth Hey, Chester how you been how’s Jack your dog? I heard him howling down by the slough last night in the fog I’ve been living up at the mission, washing down the floors I ain’t seen that dog of mine in thirty years or more Hound dog howling blue and red she’s a plastic bag around my head And nothing’s gonna save me now Gotta find a way back home Gotta cut myself free Gotta find a way back home Six bits for the wooden man and I could get myself some sleep
17.
Hold Me Now 02:27
I’ve seen the faces of strangers on the street They nod to me and I nod at them but it all seems incomplete Well, I have lied and cheated and I have stolen hearts before Yes, I was a scoundrel, lost and heartless A long, long time ago…but, not anymore So, won’t you hold me now? Won’t you hold me tightly now? Hold me now and smile, just a while You can shut your eyes and I’ll leave my drum I’ve been places, so many places, and all these faces I can’t keep track of But nothing’s as sweet as when she says to me that she needs all my love Won’t you sing with me? Won’t you sing along with me? Play a tambourine and sing a song for me…let it be Won’t you sing with me? Come on, sing along with me Sing with me tonight Make it all right You can shut your eyes and I’ll cross my heart Cross my hear
18.
It’s coming from the cellar It creeps about like death It slithers up your staircase And crawls into your head He’s standing on the corner with the wind against his chest His hands are in his pockets, but a gun’s beneath his vest He laughs at you and smiles while you get into your car You say, “I’m not who I used to be” and he says, “Oh yes you are” I’m sorry honey, but I can’t laugh like that anymore I’m sorry babe, but I can’t laugh like that anymore Staring out the window with your elbows on your knees You got your chin in your hands and your tongue between your teeth You’ve been living up the river in a place all by yourself A man comes around and knocks on your door, helps you dust your shelves Once in awhile He stands up to leave and he starts laughing across the bar You say, “I’m not who I used to be” and he says, “Oh yes you are” I’m sorry…yeah Why…why…tell me why Why…why…tell me why Black bone, fish-eyed tenderloin Lying in the alley by the Chinese joint Why, why, tell me why Blood on your hands Snakes in your bunk The balloons you carried have blown away All your ships have sunk Wake up your lover Pack up a trunk You can snort those crackers good and high and pretend you’re caviar You say, “I’m not who I used to be” and he says, “Oh yes you are” I’m sorry honey, but I can’t laugh like that anymore I’m sorry babe, but I can’t laugh like that anymore I’m sorry…yeah, I’m so sorry
19.
Maybe you could tell me what you’re trying to do But I wish you’d just hold me until the nighttime is finally through I don’t even care if you feel brand new ‘Cause nothing, I mean nothing to me is better than you There’s absolutely nothing, nothing to me that’s better than you How ‘bout you tell me what you’re thinking about And maybe together we can figure the whole damn thing out I don’t really care if you feel like I do ‘Cause nothing, I mean nothing to me is better than you No, there’s absolutely nothing, nothing to me that’s better than you If I had but one single wish I know what it would be I wish I could feel your heart next to mine Your skin on my skin tonight, tonight, tonight Tell me what you think that the future might be When the trees are all bare and there’s no sign of leaves to be seen I think the skies will be cloudless and blue ‘Cause nothing, I mean nothing to me is better than you There’s absolutely nothing, nothing to me that’s better than you Absolutely nothing is better than you
20.
Long, long time I’ve been paying down this debt For a long, long time I just needed a tourniquet I’m lonely and I’m tired and I think I need a bath You ask me, what’s the deal? Honey, I wish you wouldn’t ask Bucky’s got a booth by the juke down at Stella Rae’s Selling Cali weed, and speed, and a bit of cocaine Georgia’s in a turban with a bone right through her nose Keeps a finger on a pistol and another hidden in her hose I don’t want to talk to her I’m feeling blue, I just want to get back home to you I got one more thing I’ve got to do; I promise that it’s true Now, I’m stuck in the back of a chicken-shack down by the Stella Slough There’s nobody around that can help me get back to you There’s a church up the road and it’s getting cold So I’ll be sleeping in the thirteenth pew Don’t you worry about me now And I’ll show you some how I’m gonna be there soon Cold, cold, cold, I can’t feel my toes Cold, cold, cold, I’m freezing to the bone I’ve been bought and sold and I’ve been hung out to dry I’m feeling kind of old; I hope I see the morning light I’m an hour out of Portland and I feel like I’m half past dead Sparking like a fray and I still can’t get it out of my head Something went bang and something went crash The cops hit door and we all made a dash I’m sorry honey but I think I’m gonna be a bit late Promise that you’ll wait Now, I’m stuck in the back of a chicken-shack down by the Stella Slough There’s nobody around that can help me get back to you There’s a church up the road and it’s getting cold So I’ll be sleeping in the thirteenth pew Don’t you worry about me now And I’ll show you some how I’m gonna be there soon
21.
Do you think? Do you think this is finally over? I’ve been on the wrong side of the street I’ve been on the wrong side of the street For a long, long time Dining on sole and drinking wine Reading books with words and visions that don’t rhyme with yours Yet, I keep hearing my father’s voice inside my head Saying Christ kid, get to bed Do you think? Do you think we’ve even got a chance in hell? We’ve just been going through the motions And I can’t see your heart anymore It’s a black and smoky shore A country that’s at war with itself Yet, I keep hearing my father’s voice inside my head Saying Christ kid, get to bed Grab on to something that’s all your own Everything’s going to be alright even when you’re all alone It’s gonna be a sunny day Like being born again A sunny day Christ kid, it’s ok Do you think? Do you think this is finally over? Any hint of tolerance is gone It must have been the Devil all along Inside of me Hidden way down deep beneath But only they could see It’s hard to believe only they could see It’s hard to believe only they could see This unbelievable feat is a miracle Yet, I keep hearing my father’s voice inside my head Saying Christ kid, get to bed
22.
Sometimes late at night I see that death cab through the fog; I know she’s in the driver’s seat With her dashboard lights aglow Her arm out the window; she likes to think she’s so discreet But I see her from a mile down the street; she says you can take it from me Get out of the kitchen if you can’t stand the heat I say your heart is on your sleeve; stop your bitching at me, and then she… Slips her hands into the pockets of my jeans and tries to communicate, emphasize She talks in riddles and she swats at flies I hear those words that she’s saying escaping from her teeth Nothing that she says ever makes sense to me And somewhere in my head; OOO, I would like to see her dead Yeah, that’s how it is She can be as crazy as a mule When she asks if I’m happy and is everything is good I tell her that I’ve gotten, everything I’ve wanted But sometimes I wonder if I’ve only blown up the neighborhood She laughs you can bang that drum until angels come or until you’ve got yourself a hole And then I see her grin; I know what she is thinking She’s thinking man, how the hell did I ever fall in love with him And then she starts to cry, feel her head on my shoulder She whispers, I don’t want to grow any older I say, I know babe, but whatcha gonna do, I just want to grow old with you And somewhere in her head; OOO she would like to see me dead Yeah, that’s how it is Times in the morning When there are still ghosts in our bedroom, I can watch her sleeping I struggle not to wake her, butI always seem to fail her But she never seems to be upset She just whispers how’d you sleep and I feel her hand on my cheek I just smile and go back to sleep, with her in my arms, I’m in a dream It’s so much better than I thought it would be But somewhere in my head; OOO, I would like to see her dead Yeah, that’s how it is
23.
I’ve got a rocking chair on my back porch where I can’t do no harm I can sip my beer, pet my dog, and stare out at the lawn I could nap all day Until it’s dark I’ve got me a plan where I nap away my heart I’m going to nap away this crippled and broken heart Sometimes I’m not sure if I’m awake or still asleep I see the face that broke my heart and stole my soul to keep I could weep all day Until it’s dark I’ve got me a plan where I weep away my heart I’m going to weep away this crippled and broken heart I’m going to weep away this crippled and broken heart I’ve got a certain stick I like to use when I am feeling down Its point is dull, but I stick it in and I twist it all around I could bleed all day Until it’s dark I’ve got me a plan where I bleed away my heart I’m going to bleed away this crippled and broken heart
24.
All of the bears escaped from the zoo But we didn’t hear, so there was nothing, nothing we could do We just sat on a bench looking up at the stars While they ran through the streets, wild as thieves, All You Can Eat, closing all the bars Maybe tonight the satellites will fall from the sky Maybe tonight the satellites will fall out of the sky The band played on, though the crowd had left They played their favorite songs like a true quintet But they had no idea, none at all, that this would be their final set Maybe tonight the satellites will fall from the sky Maybe tonight the satellites will fall from the sky Maybe tonight the satellites will fall out of the sky A long time ago, a girl went to Spain She left her home in the states so she could dance out in the rain She wore a dress and a scarf and threw her coins in a well She scribbled mathematics down her leg And said, “Sometimes you can’t tell” Maybe tonight the satellites will fall from the sky Maybe tonight the satellites will fall from the sky Maybe tonight Maybe tonight the satellites will fall
25.
I see the sun is falling from the sky; it’s all turning purple, purple and peach I’m seven miles up above the earth and I’m laying naked out on a beach I see the light has almost disappeared; I’m feeling that tingle and the weird Daisies and sunflowers; soil and sun; she’s dirtied her hands and she calls it fun I think I’ve made a mistake this time and I can’t take it back A slight miscalculation on my part It’s a beautiful blue-green house with a yellow picket fence But I don’t know the address I’m holding up her head because she’s sick again Won’t you please just send an ambulance? Somebody send me an ambulance I see the sun has fallen from the sky; I can see lights on down below I’m seven miles up above the earth but I haven’t a clue why I’m feeling this low Daisies and sunflowers; sunlight and soil; she is water and I am oil I think I’ve made a mistake this time and I can’t take it back A slight miscalculation on my part But I can’t take it back; no, I can’t take it back It’s a beautiful blue-green house with a yellow picket fence But I don’t know the address I’m holding up her head because she’s sick again Won’t you please just send an ambulance? Won’t you please just send an ambulance? Somebody send me an ambulance Everything’s going to be OK Everything’s going to be alright

about

What ever happened to the Double Album? The White Album, Exile on Main St., London Calling, Blonde on Blonde, Electric Ladyland, etc. It's back. 2 CD's packed with 25 songs from this talented, multi-instrumentalist, songwriter from Olympia, Washington. Strong songs, catchy melodies and inventive structures are held together by stories with quirky observations and groovy downhome anti-heroes. With comparisons to Ray Davies, Robbie Robertson, Lowell George, and even Bob Dylan this CD belongs in your collection.

June isn’t always the best weather in the Northwest; however, on a rather pleasant evening in 2009 the phone rang. Having just finished listening to latest lukewarm track of a Seattle folk/rock band that will remain unnamed, I was frankly ready for the machine gun monologue from Olympia by a man introducing himself as Cozy Thomason. To cut to the chase, I was invited to observe a Patrick Storedahl recording session for his new project entitled The Whole Year Inn…with the assurance that I was specifically requested by Patrick to attend, the objective was to compose an eyewitness account of the proceedings for a premier Seattle publication.
I should have known that the request by Patrick was actually false. After arriving and making my identity clear, along with mentioning the phone call I’d received, all four of the players (guitarist David Broyles, drummer Maria Joyner, bassist/engineer Peter Jansen, and vocalist/pianist Storedahl) rolled their eyes and war was declared in my direction. I attended three other sessions, which mostly consisted of a belligerent dialog directed at me…Storedahl even wrote a song on the spot directed at me and they recorded it that night. With the raw material I collected, I managed to hammer out two thousand words only to hear that the aforementioned Seattle mag had folded.
So, it came as a surprise that a year later I was again contacted by Mr. Thomason requesting that I write liner notes. After two stiff drinks I put aside my rancor and gave The Whole Year Inn a listen.
Storedahl’s first release, Ink Block Fingerprint was full of quirky lyrics, strong songs, and lush sounds, but except for a few guest players the project was mostly done with overdubs by Storedahl and Jansen. The Whole Year Inn is a band: laying down basic tracks together…sitting in a room eye to eye. Consisting of twenty-five songs broken into two discs and set up into sides like a true double album, this latest effort still contains the quirky lyrics and strong music that you’ve come to expect from Patrick; however, in this writer’s opinion, there is also an element that is more organic.
Side one is basically a rock and roll record with some elements of 60’s and 70’s pop. The Whole Year Inn opens with some studio chatter and counting before kicking into The Dumbest Thing I Never Did #73 or #56, a rocker with a title that pays homage to Dylan’s Rainy Day Women; and ends with what could be Admiral Halsey’s dark and shady cousin, and one of the strangest songs I’ve ever heard …Molly, Me, and the Man from Tallahassee. Storedahl says, “Molly is a pandiatonic theme and variations with a retrograde double binary coda about my first dog.” That’s the kind of crap I was getting from these people. Sandwiched between Dumbest Thing and Molly are two upbeat numbers: the toe tapping, power pop of Astronaut and the Bolanesque first single Roll Over with its beaucoup bass and psycho-imagery; and two slower tunes: the acidic waltz, Carpet might be the harshest song I’ve heard since Elvis Costello’s I Want You and the dreamy and beautiful When You Die. Carpet is so intoxicating I played it four times in a row before continuing the rest of the album.
With its catchy, sing-along melodies and word-fest couplets that will leave you thinking for days, one could argue that this opening side is a fan’s record. But, with its meter and key changes, interesting sounds, inventive forms, and guitar solos it is a musician’s record too. Speaking of guitar solos, each one seems to reference a different player from Peter Jansen conjuring up Roger McGuinn’s twelve-string sound in The Dumbest Thing, to David Broyles’ Joe Perry-like prowess in Roll Over and George Harrison’s sweetness and emotion in Carpet, to Storedahl’s Robbie Robertson-esque solo in Molly, Me, and the Man from Tallahassee.
With an AM radio voice and drum loops, the alternative rock sounding Girlfriend starts side two and ushers in an even more eclectic group of songs than side one. By the time the last piano notes fade from the beautiful and tragic Georgia’s Gone to Spain we’ve been introduced to a handful of quirky anti-heroes that are intertwined through stories about deceit, lost innocence, suburban boredom, and friendship. We’ve met a shady tugboat captain accused of murder, some lifelong friends, a fetish-riddled socialite, a tragic lover, and a bored couple with questionable dancing skills; all of whom seem like we already know them. From the beautiful, but disturbing drone of Spoons, to the new wave sounding songs Fireplace and Bucky Diddle’s Plaid Slip-On Shoes, to the Abbey Road type melody of Downtown Doctor Darcy, Mrs. Chapman’s Daughter, and Andy Rattlesnaked a Laggard this side is truly the most ambitious and perhaps the most satisfying on the record.
Back to Bucky Diddle’s Plaid Slip-On Shoes for a moment…this is the song Storedahl penned on the spot during one of my interviews; I swear it took him less than five minutes. Though it contains my name and makes fun of my shoes it isn’t really about me. It sounds like a new wave song, but the story could have been written by Dylan for The Basement Tapes. Anti-hero Bucky is a shady river tug captain who is accused, but found innocent in the death of Molly. The town displays Molly’s body in a glass freezer with her hands bound and flowers in her hair. It’s unclear if Bucky was actually guilty or if Storedahl actually knew a captain like this. Psychotic imagery is spurted out in less than two minutes with mention of pale, dead horses, geoducks, eggs and spam, and Mrs. Chapman makes an appearance too. Along with Bucky; Fireplace, Spoons, Doctor Darcy, Mrs. Chapman, and Andy also sound like the crazy backwoods stories of The Basement Tapes, but except for Mrs. Chapman none of them sound like the music by Dylan and The Band.
Disc 2: From the get go when Flatfoot Boogie slides in, through the funky Gotta Find a Way Back Home and the almost sinister (I Can’t) Laugh Like That, to the end of Be There Soon, side three is a flashback to some 70’s goodtime rock and roll in the spirit of Little Feat. There is plenty of Lowell George inspired slide guitar, along with funky-country grooves. Some of the characters from side one and two spill into these songs including Georgia, Bucky, and Cali Parker from Roll Over, as well as, some new characters being introduced including One-Eyed Betty, Stella’s Bar, Chester (I assume in reference to The Band character), and his dog Jack.
If writers write what they know, then Storedahl has had an interesting life. The four mid-tempo to up-tempo songs mentioned above kept my toe tapping while thrilling me with tales of being robbed and arrested, shady dealings, taking refuge in churches, affairs (including one in a church), and a strange assortment of characters which are hard to believe could be made up. The swampy scary story, (I Can’t) Laugh Like That, stands out as a true gem with its funky and steady bass motif, groovy clavinet, strange percussion, and unearthly ambient guitars…though I’m not sure what really happens or what it is about. The two softer songs on this side are love songs…Hold Me Now is a country-folk sing-along about redemption with Deb Brown singing backup, while Nothing to Me is a country waltz about true love with Jennifer Combe singing harmony.
Side 4 begins with the words “Do you think this is finally over?” from Deniably Christ, Kid. Appropriate I assume, since we’ve already heard 20 songs. The songs on this side almost act as an epilogue to the rest of the album. Except for referencing a girl who went to Spain in Maybe Tonight and the country feel of Rocking Chair, the feel seems different and none of the earlier characters are mentioned …almost as if it is several years later, and Storedahl is no longer in contact with any of them.
Storedahl’s son, Riley, plays sax on Maybe Tonight and That’s How It Is adding a new voice to the already dense content. An R & B song, That’s How It Is contains a fantastic melodic chorus and verses that tell of a relationship between two people that know each other like the back of their hands. A great lyric. Maybe Tonight is a mid-tempo song with spacey music along the order of the band Luna. It tells of a weird story about bears escaping which might represent Storedahl’s own demons or a fascination with early John Irving. It also contains a great tenor guitar solo, and as mentioned Riley Storedahl’s saxophone solo in the fade out.
Rocking Chair, with Jennifer Combe’s harmony vocal is a country, old-timey treat. It has a great feel and will make you smile, even considering the somewhat morbid last verse. The long and satisfying end track Anxiously Mistaken tells a tale of regret, and is so mesmerizing I found myself lost in a dream. Along with the groove of the bass, drums, guitar, and piano, a bubbly synth gurgles throughout the song.
As to “The Whole Year Inn”, Storedahl's latest offering, what are we to hear? His heart has not been dormant since his last album, "Ink Block Fingerprint", but has been developing and probing towards its own goal…musical excellence and great songwriting, of course. But a band approach has given this album a more organic sound. Melodies, which are true melodies that you can hum. Lyrics full of true heart, interesting insight, and sometimes psychotic imagery from his own experiences, but with messages we can all relate to in our own way. A fantastic collection of heartfelt art.

-Bucky Diddle
April 2011

credits

released September 16, 2011

For most songs:
Patrick Storedahl - Vocals, guitars, keyboards, percussion
Maria Joyner - drums, percussion
Peter Jansen - bass
David Broyles - guitar

Also
Riley Storedahl - sax
Ted Clark - Toms on When You Die
Craig Brown - backing vox
Deb Brown - backing vox
JoAnn Thorn - backing vox
Jennifer Combe - backing vox
Recorded and mixed by Peter Jansen
Mastered by Ed Brooks

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Patrick Storedahl Olympia, Washington

Singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist from Olympia. Has played guitar and keyboards with Just Plain Bill, as well as, sitting in with other local bands. He has been involved with many projects including 7 JPB albums, 11 of his own. He's now playing and writing in Alex Blum & the Roadside Quartet. ... more

contact / help

Contact Patrick Storedahl

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this album or account

If you like Patrick Storedahl, you may also like: