CREDITS

by Briyan Frederick Baker
Published by Blind Mime Music, ASCAP
© Briyan Frederick Baker

This recording CC BY 4.0 bfbmusic.com

STORY

This was based on an image prompted in the AI Music Society facebook group.

LYRIC

[Verse 1]
He woke with a trumpet where a belt should be
Buttons snoring sonatas in B-flat fatigues
His knees clicked in rhythm, ankles waltzed offbeat
And every step exhaled a dirge for the obsolete

[Verse 2]
Guttersmoke stitched into the seams
His calves moaned elegies for deceased machines
Each thigh a concerto out of step, out of tune
He danced in diagrams by the tuba full moon

[Chorus]
(Wearing trumpets for trousers)
(Blow, blow, blow) bend the brass again
(Wearing trumpets for trousers)
March me sideways way back through when
(Wearing trumpets for trousers)
Sound out the squelch of mostly forgotten men
In the pants of the wind, with a leg-bound refrain
And füglehorn pain
Wearing trumpets for trousers
(Again and again)

[Verse 3]
Tubas spit whispers on dimestore cuff links
He turned and sneezed out a sousaphone wink
One hip crooned jazz, the other belched trap
He pirouetted past a spittoon brimming with wrath

[Chorus]
(Wearing trumpets for trousers)
(Blow, blow, blow) bend the brass again
(Wearing trumpets for trousers)
March me sideways way back through when
(Wearing trumpets for trousers)
Sound out the squelch of mostly forgotten men
In the pants of the wind, with a leg-bound refrain
And füglehorn pain
Wearing trumpets for trousers
(Again and again)

[Bridge]
A belt with valves, a buckle of reeds—
He tuned his fate with a sneeze and two pleats
Don’t ask why the saxophone sighs
It’s stitched in the zipper of unbuttoned lies

[instrumental break]

[Verse 4]
He sat on a chair made of crescendo and flesh
Piping fog from his piccolo breath
A kazoo in his pocket buzzed “déjà vu stew,”
As the bandleader blinked in his Tupeloo shoes

[Chorus]
(Wearing trumpets for trousers)
(Blow, blow, blow) bend the brass again
(Wearing trumpets for trousers)
March me sideways way back through when
(Wearing trumpets for trousers)
Sound out the squelch of mostly forgotten men
In the pants of the wind, with a leg-bound refrain
And füglehorn pain
Wearing trumpets for trousers
(Again and again)

[Outro/Hook]
Pants of the past—play no refrain
Just loop me in scales of stitched polka rain
I’ll march where the brasslegs lead me away
Down alleys in suspenders dripping saxophone stains…