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by Fishboy

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Alex Periera
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Alex Periera “Some day you’ll find the best songs of all time / may they be priceless and worthless like all the best things”

I think I might have found them on Waitsgiving. I’m a sucker for concept records, but being a musician myself, this extra meta concept of a group of musicians who gave up their dreams because no one was listening (only to discover it doesn’t matter) has rooted this record deep in my heart where I think it will stay for a long time. Favorite track: Snocone Creator.
Alex Hoffman
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Alex Hoffman Sometimes the perfect album comes around at the perfect time. Fishboy’s Waitsgiving is a lyrical power pop masterpiece focused on patience, persistence and perfecting your art, even if no one notices.

The intertwining of stories from 3 different families is done so seamlessly. The album is fundamentally a series of life lessons from artists in different stages of their lives. It can send you through a wide range of emotions and contains several pandemic anthems. Don’t WAIT, get this album t Favorite track: Driver Choreographer.
letspizza thumbnail
letspizza Another fantastic rock opera! Gonna take me a few more listens to piece together all of the interconnecting stories, but it’s already some of my favorite stuff from the band to date! Strikes a perfect balance between mournful ballads and energetic anthems, and Eric never loses track of his trademark whimsy and optimism throughout the story. Favorite track: Driver Choreographer.
  • Streaming + Download

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

      $7 USD  or more


  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    - Opaque purple vinyl

    Includes unlimited streaming of Waitsgiving via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days
    edition of 500  36 remaining
    Purchasable with gift card

      $15 USD or more 


  • A commissioned 8.5 x11" painting on chipboard of yourself or pet patiently waiting for something. A one of a kind piece of art made by Eric Michener based on photos and notes you submit. (once ordered, send photos and descriptions to
    ships out within 30 days
    edition of 40 

      $50 USD or more 


In 97 I was walking to work Tripped on plaque and lookin back I saw the date of my birth A time capsule absent of an opening date Just a burial time and at the bottom underlined The word wait So I took myself down to city hall To get some education information making sense of it all City hall pass a law that it’ll never be raised And every 17th of May is now a city wide holiday And on Waitsgiving Day The red lights never change There’s a big parade That just sits in the shade And then the grand marshal stands Signals to the band and they play We are always waiting Hoping Praying For a day that may not come And with a little patience Contemplation We may find we have enough So tell your mom and dad Cancel all the plans they had and come out and play We are always waiting Hoping Praying For a day that may not come And with a little patience Contemplation We may find We are
The perfect idea arrives when it’s able Forever stamps on an everything bagel I’m not an adult but I’m not a teenager no more And I work at a store With records and books I often perform You should come take a look But you can’t take a look The band’s on a break The time that we took Was specifically taken for Waiting on a great idea I am waiting on the perfect idea Air conditioning, ice cream sandwich something so perfect you can’t understand how it Sits out in front of you waiting to grab from the yard And I’m bad at guitar But I think that's ok Cause the better you are The less ro om in your brain And the room brain Needs plenty of space To optimally function With time that was given for Waiting on a great idea I was waiting on the perfect idea It was saturday, that I found Found a tape, on the ground Of a diary, sister made Ever ything she’d seen that day While listening It was so inspiring I took it home Melody Harmony A symphony It came to me And within a week And a day Eagerly I put my songs to tape And from a counter top display I sold all twelve at work that day I will admit it’s beautifully lame The time that I spend Waiting for something to say it to no one, say it again I’m not alone I’m just sitting here patiently Waiting on a great idea I am waiting on the next idea I am waiting on the perfect idea
Because as hard as I try You can’t find a moment I can’t carve out the time To polish your craft And delivery drive So dictate a diary I’ll talk into a mic Describing your path Which I’ll adapt onto the stage Choreograph the downtown route I take Pecan Elm Hickory Locust Pecan Elm Oak The limousine I drive A gift from grampa And packages climb Up to the roof Each afternoon I spy A man on the corner Who is scratching his thighs with a Grapefruit spoon Which he will use to dig and soon I turn the corner He’s gone from view Another day on the route Another tape I make with details I’ll use from Pecan Elm Hickory Locust Pecan Elm Oak Pecan Elm Hickory Locust Pecan Elm Oak To my little sister At the register whose selling books and records With a special order brought into the store each day We take the limousine In late 2003 To elementary Sing dance on the way And now that memory I save Inside an eighth inch TDK Before the memory it fades A chocolate limo melts to beige If everyday from the mundane I see one dance that I could make Then when the chance is there to take I’ll put my opus on the stage Oh sister, if you write the songs I’ll find the feet to dance along And with opening curtains drawn back A chorus sings triumphantly Pecan Elm Hickory Locust Pecan Elm Oak
BBQ Artist 03:37
I was raised in smoke as a kid In the BBQ shack my dad’s dad built with him And every afternoon sauce from our chins Dripped on the patio Dad sang while prepping the ribs My son, every step adds up in the long run So I set in place as I grew I Planted projects that patiently bloomed I would paint patrons with bbq Sculpted our smoker You know her as Piggy Sue my love She’s got a smoke stack stuck in her lungs She’s going a quote smack clear cross her front Every step adds up in the long run And in 20 years Word got out My art covered the shack now a house Best in state till the morning we found The building had burned to the ground It sucks Losing something you love Should add up, I’m not sure it does I’ll do the math waiting for the long run We pulled the pig from the ash Fresh coat of pink, garden hose bath Put her on wheels, rolled her out back Then went to work on a snow cone shack My son will ask about a song I once sung With a purple stain on my tongue Every step adds up in the long run
Bass Digger 04:06
You don’t have to win You don’t have to play You don’t have to believe the ones that tell you that it’s a game It’s a daily choice That you choose to make If you’re waiting on someone to love you You don’t have to wait When I was young I played the bass I joined up with a band Recorded some jams And destroyed the tapes We said what’s the use No attention’s paid To my wife my son my grandkid Don’t make the same mistake that I did If no one hears That don’t mean a song shouldn’t be sung Oh for Forty Years The same songs have been stuck on the tip of my tongue And I sing them now While I’m digging graves You should see the machine that the Graveyard gave me I call it the candy crane We walk past funerals On my lunch break To my grandson working the snow cone stand Swear to me now, raise up your right hand that if If no one hears that don’t mean a song shouldn’t be sung And if no one cares That only means you can sing out whatever you want And if ever you get where you can’t hear your thoughts Well now, scream to yourself at the top of your lungs You don’t have to win You don’t have to play You don’t have to believe the ones who tell you that it’s a game And you don’t need an audience To be kind and brave And if you’re waiting on someone to love you Don’t go waiting on someone to love you
In my younger days I was in a power trio I was the drummer of a primo local band We were bound for fame Oh I could feel it in the demos So I go and buy a limo Cash in hand I was out of luck When the band broke up Oh man Now my beard is grey But I can play a decent solo I haven’t tried it since a year ago last may In my practice space I wipe a cymbal down with sterno just a tiny little pyro technical display The stand fell the ground And the lot burned down OK And here is my advice Patience may be nice But wisdom don’t always come with age
I was listening to the local station when a singer He asked if we could try and shout a little louder I craned up my neck yelled at the weather It looked like the spring, felt like the summer I raced back inside to try out a flavor Based on the song heard on the player Place down a block of ice on the shaver Raise up the syrup, mix together And pour the creation on to the other Find a name move on to another Glance out the window for my grandfather Rinse and repeat the beat undercover One hundred flavors, seven hours Though I am tired it doesn’t matter I am a creator I am inspired Forever and ever and ever and ever Oh my god I lost my train of thought A snow cone thaws It’s here and then it’s not If it’s my job to man this stand I will gladly spend my day Creating cones for every song the radio plays Oh I’m not graced with synesthesia Just impatience to make great Snow cones My father made art like my grandfather I’m trying real hard to get a little better The way that I’ll start to get a little better Is part by part, little by little By my calculation the combination of local station and inspiration Will equal greatness if I am patient Here are a few things that I created The best I could do before it turned noon A submarine tune banana pineapple At three I believe I heard sleepy jean In turn it lead me to coffee dreamsicle But the cone of the day Came from a tape The dj explained she bought it that day from a counter display It was about grapefruit spoons So I used grapefruit juice And syrup infused with flowers my grandfather Pulls the cup back from his mouth and says to me Oh my god You don’t have to try so hard An awkward pause Your great the way you are A flock of birds dock on the power lines a block away We shut down the stand early And watch the sunset fade And toast our styrofoam to yet another brilliant day Making snow cones Snow Cones I was listening to the local station when a singer He asked if it would be much nicer to be older Well I don’t think things can get much nicer And I’m old enough as is
I was thirty-three, in the seventies When I killed my career Writing melodies for nobody I had filled seventeen years If a tree falls in the woods Was there ever a tree there at all? The analogy botched In my practice garage Bandmates stare up at the wall I clarify If no one is listening I’ve got a plan where We bury our last album Under a two foot plaque on the town square And we’ll play one final concert Say that we’ll rise up someday I hung press releases Pestered baristas But in the end nobody came We dig anyway that we could to move on for good The leftover merch lit up like firewood My drummer decides to star limousine driving The bass built a bbq shack in his old neighborhood And where we once stood it still sits there today A time capsule plaque with my first borns birth date And the word “wait” I was fifty-three in the nineties When my daughter found the plaque The discovery was embarrassing I held back so proud as the founder Of the town’s first Waitsgiving Day She asked for an anthem I sat down and wrote one The last song that I ever made And lately I’m found jogging downtown Stopped at the plaque where I’m scratching the ground With a grapefruit spoon and then one afternoon A song on the radio calls out my digging some how The track after that is a song I once sang About the long run so I run, run away Past the stand with the snow cones and I hear my old bass player say That I don’t have to wait. Now at seventy-three I ask humbly in my garage If you’d all agree to form a team And take back the album I lost If a tree falls in the woods It might sound like one last final plan Naysayers say you can’t take back the past But in this case I think that we can
And so I run my tongue across the gap In my bottom two front teeth the morning I try to get my album back The one I lost so long ago and Though the crew was briefed and prepped Nervousness ran through our bodies the shade parade had stopped its step I pushed down the first domino Ear pieces in place, DJ on stage Curated a mix that she aired over radio waves Every turntable play in turn would dictate every move that we made And the first that was made, register teen Greatness Waitress there on the scene The band played a deafening Waitsgiving theme Just a distraction for the real action DJ swap the record out, trigger the next phase Of Operation Last Waitsgiving Day The limousine lurched into place Followed by a flatbed trailer Piggy Sue and Candy Crane Together formed a brand new float The smoker and digger of graves Beautifully they weld together A pig with several scorpion traits Whose stomach started belching smoke Father and son reunited as one Piled the fire until the wood pile was gone Smoke billowed out to the lawn Hiding the digger from all lookers on Grandson looking on: Snocone Creator Stationed to lookout for oncoming danger Instead, inspired to make a new flavor When danger approaches No one is noticing Sing out to early end of all at stake: hala la la Last Waitsgiving Day And then out of the limo the Geriatric Pyro Leapt on to the smokers float Whose smoke was slowly dissipating Oh I must confess it was I who made the mess I burned your building down that night But I’m here today to make it right His cymbal lit with flames Which brought more eyes that way So the delivery driver raced She grabs the mic from off the stage And she cues the Greatness Waitress band “Play our new grapefruit spoon jam I’ll teach the audience to dance” And the diary she once dictated Now a mass coordinated Dance that somewhat went this way Up down dig in the ground Up down up down dig in the ground Up down dig in the ground Up down dig in the dig in the Up down dig in the ground Up down up down dig in the ground Up down dig in the ground Up down dig in the dig in the Ground at my feet the hole now complete I pulled back the time capsule box and I turn to the street Before I can make my retreat A voice in the air it calls out to me I look up to see the grand marshall say She’d like for us all to give her dad thanks It’s my daughter, she wants me to come up on stage Box in my hand as the audience chants I give my girl a hug, tears rolls down my face I hand over the album and I say “happy birthday” She hands it to the DJ and the DJ presses play On the soundtrack to the Last Waitsgiving Day And in the box a letter dedicates “This one is for those of us who wait”
Volunteer DJ 04:32
I’m a volunteer DJ At a radio station Whose transmission stretches Only five miles And though I agree the form’s obsolete I feel that I need to perform with style Simultaneous playlists In a red spiral notebook Of internet treasures And crate digging gems And sad as it seems they would feel more complete If I had both the time and means to hear all That there is But I may never know No I may never know And my favorite album I found in the basement Of a gently used bookstore A local release And twenty years since I’m still not convinced That an album exists that means that much to me They were Mid 70’s rockers They vanish completely But I own all of their records The whole discography And don’t get me wrong it’s ok that they’re gone But I feel like they stopped before reaching their peak And we may never know No we may never know And in the bookstore last night I saw the singer of the band stand in line I must admit I didn’t dare waste his time I stood and watched as he was selling LPs To the register teen Somewhat relieved and impressed Fifty dollars fifty dollars at best And a baby is crying in the back bedroom I write in my notebook As she gets rocked to sleep Someday you’ll find the best songs of all time May they be priceless and worthless Like all the best things


released April 2, 2021


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