DESCRIPTION:
Pr1mo stopped by a few days ago and did the vocals to a beat track. I took the vocals and then came up with an all analog rock approach to creating a song in the context of the vocals. We did some quick on location video in the freezing cold December 29, 2009 that was relevant to the subject matter and here it is. Hope you enjoy it.

Vocals: Shure KSM27
Guitar: Warmoth swamp ash with Seymour Duncan TB-5 into Effectrode Tube Drive into Genz Benz Black Pearl 30 into Shure KSM57
Bass: Ibanez SR506 tuned EADGBe into AdrenaLinn III
Cables: Monster Performer 500
Soundcard: GINA3G
Recording software: Sonar

Lyrics:


(I heard a) wise man call us the City of Dreams
but look into my eyes, damn! What a hideous mean and
altogether reckless statement to use
no matter how you check it, minimum wage means you lose
So heed my words, brotha, and get on your feet
And off the streets, you need a heavenly blast of heat
Youre the saviour of this Park City metropolis
Get on top of this, and light the dark like a paleontologist
______________________________________

My city is an itty bitty dot in an atlas
But to the heavens I give gratitude simply because I have this
Opportunity to reach out to my Park City peers
A community I teach, thats been dark for years
But like a pitch black night there still be some stars
And in the morning there will be a sun not too far
From the center of the universe, the city of Bridgeport
Im proud to be a native of the city of imports
________________________________________

Now imagine the BPT back in the Twenties
You got the fashion, the booze, the industry, and the money
In fairness, the whole city was full of bootleggers
And Im sure they had their full share of loot beggars
Trumbull Gardens used to be known as Whiskey Hill
In every other house lived a kegger with his own still
Making grain and then goin bake it into bread
Make it rain? Nah, youd bury that cake in the shed
________________________________________

In the backyard, cuz everyone around you worked hard
And if they knew you were idle, youd end up behind bars
Remember, during Prohibition liquor was illegal
And a dozen ships a day brought immigrants to their cathedral
In those days a maze like Father Panik was impressive
But they razed it when their lives were getting manic depressive
Before the gangs with the lead fangs took over my town
And vilified each other while they vied for the crown
________________________________________

South End, Marina, be that Bridgeport shit
West Side, PT, be that Bridgeport shit
North End, yea thats that Bridgeport shit
Cant forget the East End, runnin Bridgeport quick!
East Side, ridin dirty, with the Latin twist
Black Rock, yea you heard me, they make Bridgeport rich
Downtown BPT, yea I feel that clique
the Hollow, the Terrace, who did I forget?
________________________________________

So clarify the name West End or West Side?
Identified as the same, but not the best for a ride
State Street, Fairfield Av, nothing but strip joints
And old cars, and dive bars, you get the point
But still I recommend that you always defend
The West End , where the sheriffs and outlaws always intend
To do business in the project named for Phineas T
And if you miss this, you better go pray to the ministry
________________________________________

Now Black Rock they want no part of the West Side
Take a ride and the Ave is really nowhere near the tide
St. Marys is far away from the urban jungle
And from Trumbull, so you know the Rocks never seen a rumble
Which explains the mansions and the lack of expansion
And too the fashion, well at they got a lil passion
Home of the oldest houses in all of the county
17th century, now damn if that aint O.G.
________________________________________

Up north, the Terrace be lockin it down
And Trumbull cats be embarrassed that its next to their town
Trumbull Gardens , Trumbull Av, but Terrace, thats the port
Whatever the name, they got no trouble holdin down the fort
So for anybody bold enough to cruise and act hard
Go down the boulevard between Chopsey Hill and Reservoir
No gang signs, no signals, and no wack waves
Or bullets from pistols are gonna land you on the back page
________________________________________

Big up for downtown, the home of city hall
Banks if you need a loan, theres even the arcade mall
And stores with fly clothes like Jimmys and Drus
Cant take the grand tour without some timberland shoes
Up and down Main Street is some burned out shacks
And they claim they never ever turned tricks out back
But the city of dreams is full of greed and lust
And downtown has the pull for all your needs and such