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Welcome to the Danger Show

by Marc M Cogman

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    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    For those of you who want the genuine article. This is the same CD that was available on CD Baby and at Marc's shows. It's now here at Bandcamp. (1) disc in Digipack. Booklet includes photos, credits, and lyrics. You receive automatically receive a digital download with purchase.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Welcome to the Danger Show via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days
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  • Full Digital Discography

    Get all 8 Marc M Cogman releases available on Bandcamp and save 25%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Dead Messengers, Nothing is Fantastic, Ink and Hollow Bones: The Albatross Demos, Albatross, Kill the Messenger: Live & Rarities (2006-2009), Anthems, Beneath a Balcony, and Welcome to the Danger Show. , and , .

    Purchasable with gift card

      $52.49 USD or more (25% OFF)

     

1.
Go to the place that makes you make sense. You can leave your friends behind; they won’t pay you any mind. And when you’re gone, you’ll realize that things have changed. The old neighborhood may fall apart, but deep inside that’s what you want. So run, run like hell, run from the stupid things you’ve done. Run for your life, run for your love, run, run, run. Go to the place where you can breathe in deep. No more tearing at the throat, no more choking on the smoke. And when you leave, you’ll see you left an iron lung. It’s one black cloud from dusk ‘til dawn. It’s amazing you survived this long. So run, run like hell, run from every lie you told. Run for your life, run for your soul, run, run, run. And in your new locale, you’ll fill books every day. All the poet suicides, you will bring them back to life. And when you sleep, you’ll just dream about the place you are, where no one ever talks, just sings, and telephones don’t ever ring. So run, run like hell, run from every lie you told. Run for your life, run for your soul, run, run, run. Run, run like hell, run from the mutilated world, the poison sky, the mercenary I. Run, run for your life.
2.
Come over baby. Come sit on the couch and crack your knuckles with me. We don’t have to kiss, we’ll just watch a foreign movie where everyone’s in love but there’s no happy ending. I haven’t disappointed you yet, but give me time. ‘Cause you’ve still got some hope left, and I’d hate to change your mind, and let you know I’m not all right. Then you’d know I’m not all right. All right. Come over baby. And play that brand new song you wanted to show me about how nothing’s worse than feeling lonely, but somehow it’s the only way we know how to be. I haven’t disappointed you yet, but give me time. ‘Cause we both get secrets kept; sometimes I’m dying to tell you mine, but then you’d know I’m not all right. Then you’d know I’m not all right. Yeah, soon you’ll know I’m not all right. I haven’t disappointed you yet, but give me time. Give me time.
3.
You’re the picture of uncertainty: sad as a bruise in your big black boots. So chalk it up to poetry, get another tattoo, embrace whatever’s hurting you. Or just write it in a line, sing it with a rhyme, but don’t deny that it’s the truth: you chose a lonely, lonely way to spend your time. So add it up and decide: are all the words in the world going to keep you satisfied, or do you need more out of life? Or do you need more out of life? You’re the poster-child for misery: you sulk and you brood. Oh, how it makes them swoon. But you can’t commit to anything. You’ve always got one in the wings, waiting for you to make your move. And someday you might see, but for now you’d rather be the boy who’s always got the blues. You chose a lonely, lonely way to spend your time. So add it up and decide: are all the words in the world going to keep you satisfied, or do you need more out of life? Or do you need more out of life? You’re allergic to stability, refusing love, thinking you can’t risk enough. But the danger swallows everything. It’s a song you only meant to sing, words you meant to write, but never meant to be your life. You chose a lonely, lonely way to spend your time. So add it up and decide: are all the words in the world going to keep you satisfied, or do you need more out of life? Or do you need more out of life?
4.
You wonder what I’m doing: these days I’m always cleaning house, moving things around. And trying to forget the day you first moved in, when everything was sparkling and life was for the opening. And the cat, her belly to the floor, eyeing every doorway, unsure of what lay ahead. But all that fades eventually. You learn the geography and there’s no mystery left. Forgive me: you didn’t need this stuttering, this scratching at the scab, but the cuts still itch so bad and I can’t fix it. I’m sorry: you didn’t need this elegy, this salt rubbed in the wounds, but there’s nothing I can do. I can’t fix it. You wonder where I’m going: I’m spending much more time on the road, going it alone. And I’m supposed to be improving, but I still close my eyes at every single show. I hide inside a poem. Forgive me: you didn’t need this stuttering, this salt rubbed in the wounds, but there’s nothing I can do. I can’t fix it. I seem all right, but I lie awake at night, hedging all my bets and fending off regret. Can I risk it? And the face you have in photographs, well, it may sell the clothes, but I know it’s just a pose. You crack between the clicks.
5.
Chiaroscuro 03:29
I’m suffering through one of your off-days. I know, I know, you’ve got so many calls to make. I know, I know, you’ve got so many pills to take. Well I never wrote a poem entitled “Chiaroscuro” but I know a thing or two about the dark and the light. Your eyes get red and misty and that’s when you say, “Kiss me.” And I think how much you’ll miss me when I up and die. I’m rocket-riding through one of your good days, climbing higher in the sky with every plan we make. And I know just how dangerous it can be; I do it anyway. And I never wrote a poem entitled “Chiaroscuro” but I know a thing or two about the dark and the light. Your movements all get shifty, and that’s when you hit me. But I’ll keep these head wounds with me, if I can just stay alive.
6.
Porcelain 03:44
Reaching out with a porcelain hand, she’s wanting to go where nobody knows her face, the bad intentions. Swallowing hard down her porcelain throat, she’s known it before. She opens the door, goes outside, sings her song. And if you fall, I won’t let you, I won’t let you slip through the cracks. I won’t let you, I won’t let you slip through the cracks. She’s not all right, so porcelain white. She’s light as a feather, so easily broken every time. And if you fall, I won’t let you, I won’t let you slip through the cracks. I won’t let you, I won’t let you slip through the cracks. I won’t let you, I won’t let you slip through the cracks.
7.
We 03:28
I was a ghost you heard on the radio a thousand miles from home, a dream you had ten years ago. An audible crash, a brilliant flash of light that woke you up at night until you went to sleep and let it go. But we used to have something that seemed worth dreaming about. And people liked to listen so we often just dreamed out loud. And they say there thinking that we had it all figured out. And years down the road, you duck into a show and hear the songs you know, and you’re right back at the start. And after a laugh, you get my autograph, ‘cause I’ll sign anything, I’m so desperate to leave my mark. But we used to have something that seemed worth singing about. And people liked to listen so we always sang it loud. And we sat there thinking that we had it all figured out. But we were just two seeds sprouting their first leaves deep underground. We were just two sweaty teens in a basement, fooling around. We were just two lost souls trying to find what can’t be found. We were just two wallflowers at the big dance, scoping things out. Yeah we were just two sweaty teens in a basement fooling around. We were just two lost souls trying to find what can’t be found. We were just two wallflowers at the big dance scoping things out. We were just two seeds sprouting their first leaves deep underground. And I was on my way up, you were on your way up, we were on our way down. I was on my way up, you were on your way up, we were on our way out. I was on my way up, you were on your way up, we were on our way down. I was on my way up. You were on your way up. But we were on our way down.
8.
Complete 04:35
The city lights blink out. My hands are shaking, and I’m still outside your house waiting for you to come out. It’s getting colder: L.A. shutting down. This city’s foggy and forlorn. Sky-scrapers disappear up past the fifteenth floor. And I’m always wanting more. But I just settle for what everyone settles for. If you turn out to be just what I need, could we ever come out clean, or are we lost? Is that the cost of being complete? The city lights blink out. And I’m getting high tonight, the only way I know how. But it doesn’t matter now. God, it’s getting hotter and we won’t get out. If I turn out to be just what you need, could we ever come out clean, or are we lost? Is that the cost? If you turn out to be just what I need, could we ever come out clean, or are we lost? Is that the cost of being complete?
9.
I came west from Boston, Mass., another punk you met in class. We spun our stories one by one, bragged about the drugs we’d done. And real people do exist, they just don’t live in Los Angeles. But then you hear someone sing, and it just changes everything. So we load our words like gattling guns and fire off the rounds for fun, but now and then you hit someone and cause a fatal wound. It came to pass: you hit me square, but I was equally prepared to hit you back and so we shared a dangerous month or two. Sometimes you really ought to turn and run and but still you stay. Well I know exactly where we were when I started thinking you were the cure. It may have cost some mystery, but you showed me your history – there were shoeboxes full of photographs, and notes you passed in English class, folded like envelopes with tabs that opened when I pulled, and all your teenage poems spilled out, cursive soft and crimson loud, they stained my fingers reddish brown where they touched the words. Well, a burden’s lighter when it’s shared, so it’s no surprise that you got scared when the weight came tumbling down on you – there wasn’t much that you could do. You tried like hell to keep away, and I tried like hell to make you stay. Neither of us got our way, it sort of changed from day to day. Sometimes I’d think I’d won the fight, but your conscience kept you up at night so I kept these things to myself, hoping maybe that would help. Sometimes you try to bottle something up and it just explodes. Well, you finally struck out on your own, moved into another home – I took the tour and now I know: there isn’t room for me. And I guess I never aimed too high, trying to be your consolation prize, but I’m happy just to know I tried to make you see. But I never say just what I mean, I never keep my language clean, I never ever flee the scene of where I commit the crime. Sometimes the hardest thing to say out loud is easy to sing. What if I love you? What if I love you? Would it ruin everything?
10.
This won’t last and you know it. We’re tumbling toward the precipice and we can’t do a single thing to slow it. You’re hoping for some solid ground, but everything is slipping down. Don’t you know me by now? This won’t last and you know it. We’re tumbling toward the precipice and you can’t do a single thing to slow it. And you can try to shut my mouth, but still these words are coming out. Don’t you know me by now?

about

The stunning debut album from Marc M Cogman, touching upon rock, folk and americana music. A wide cast of characters helps to bring these lyric-driven songs to life.

credits

released March 27, 2007

All music and lyrics by Marc M Cogman

Marc M Cogman - lead and backing vocals, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, piano, glockenspiel, harmonica, & percussion

Produced, recorded and engineered by: Marc M Cogman, with invaluable help from Justin Siegel, Frogs, Giulio Carmassi, Dave Delhomme, Brian Moskin, Aris Archontis, Nate Hurtweck and J.D. Andrew

Recorded at: Record Plant (Los Angeles, CA), subSpot (Venice, CA), Giulio's House (Mar Vista, CA), Delhomme's House (Mar Vista, CA), The Fun-N-Only Room (Mar Vista, CA), RedSkeleton Haus (Los Angeles, CA), YeRusto! (Santa Monica, CA) and Archon (Sherman Oaks, CA).

Mixed by: J.D. Andrew at YeRusto! (Santa Monica, CA)

Mastered by: Brian "Big Bass" Gardner at Bernie Grundman Mastering (Hollywood, CA)

Album artwork/concept by: Kelli Noftle
Layout by: Kelli Noftle and Marc M Cogman
Artist photo by: Kelli Noftle

Additional Musicians:
Frogs - electric bass (2, 3, 4, 6, 9)
Justin Siegel - drums (2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 9)
Kellianne Noftle - backing vocals (1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 9)
Giulio Carmassi - upright bass (7), vibraphone (6), piano (3, 6) and wurlitzer (8)
Nita Mickley - violin (1, 4, 6)
Dave Delhomme - B3 organ (1, 4, 7, 9)
Steve McDonald - electric guitar (7, 9)
Reed Berin - cello (1, 2, 3), electric guitar (3)
Nelson Lindsley - electric guitar (3, 4)
Daniel Damico - piano (7, 9)
Dave Gielan - backing vocals (9)
J.D. Andrew - electric bass (1)
Mike Butler - lap steel guitar (1)
Handclaps on "Incurable Blues" by: Marc M Cogman, Kellianne Noftle, Justin Siegel, Clay Cogman, Ashley Rushford, Mark Bosselman and Rachelle Tabin.

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