A Demonstration

by Bib Tucker & the Liars Club

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    Recorded January 2016 by Bib Tucker & the Liars Club at Youth on Record, Denver, CO. Engineered and mixed by Gaunzo. Mastered by Chris Fogal at Black in Bluhm, Park Hill, CO.

    Thanks to Darlean for her ears, Estuart for his pipes, and Alvaro Estevez for his ranch hands. Thanks to Pete at Just Right Motors for the visuals and Estuart for putting it together.

    Thanks to Kreston from Francisco Studios… for nothing.

    Bib Tucker & the Liars Club are:

    Bib Tucker - lead vocals, guitar
    Gaunzo - tele, pedal steel
    Buck Rusty - drums, vox
    Huck Rusty - bass, vox

    Tape, download, and cactus available on Sheriff Mike Records.

    “Yeah, but we had fun” - Bib Tucker, June 2016

    Includes unlimited streaming of A Demonstration via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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credits

released June 6, 2016

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Track Name: Walkers in the Fairway
Walkers in the fairway,
Riders on the tee,
The hold up on a Sunday,
Robs the golfers of their chi.
Rider yells, “hey zombie,
Do you mind if we play thru?”
The Walker grumbles “yes sir,
As a matter-fact, yes I do.”

They argued on, they argued on and on and on,
Until the walker bit his neck, the Rider cashed his final check,
Ate some brains, dropped a ball, and played on thru.

Walkers on the back nine,
A Ranger’s on their trace,
To the havoc wreaking zombies uttered, “Hey pick up the pace,
I’ve seen you leave those divots and rotten guts upon the green,
This is ain’t no public course,
Hit your ball, don’t make scene.”

They argued on, they argued on and on and on,
Until the Walker bit his neck, the ranger cashed his final check,
Ate some brains, dropped a ball, and played on thru.

And the walkers kept playing on through,
Spawning zombies on the course and slow playing like they do,
But the pride among the Riders kept them playing their same game,
And that’s par for the course so they say, on a post apocalyptic sunny day.
Track Name: Big Rig Rita
Saw her at the station, It was just my luck,
An angel at the wheel of a semi truck,
She was weighing her load, she was checking her oil,
When my thermostat maxed and my blood began to boil.

Big Rig Rita, you got me runnin’ hot
A trucker couldn’t miss you, in his blind spot,
Big Rig Rita, for goodness sake,
Honey won’t you help me set my parking brake.

Shifting gears in high heels, turning wide like a pro,
My radiator, girl, it’s about to explode,
To be with you, I do dream and hope,
To get a lil’ dirty, wash our hands with Lava Soap.

Big Rig Rita, you got me runnin’ hot
A trucker couldn’t miss you, in his blind spot,
Big Rig Rita, for goodness sake,
Honey won’t you help me set my parking brake
Track Name: Shootin' Hats
I walk the desert, hot and dry, white knuckles clenched and spite in my eye, and scalp buck-naked.
Noon beats down crown rare as steak, I’ve been searching hard for that thoughtless ape, you know who you are.

You shot off my cowboy hat,
Now I’m wondering the road after you,
When I catch up to you boy, I’ll make you pay your dues.

I avenge thee, you wicked fool, my mother made that hat of wool, from my father’s favorite sheep.
An “eye for an eye, a hat for a hat,” I think the saying goes something like that.
Sleep with one eye open.

You shot off my cowboy hat,
Now I’m wondering the road after you,
When I catch up to you boy, I’ll make you pay your dues.
Track Name: Whiskey Under the Sink
I’ve got a dirty conscience. I’ve got a filthy mind
Gotta clean her out, Gotta make the time.
But PineSol ain’t the trick. And Windex makes me sick.
Got to find the right cleaning supply

Whiskey under the sink. Whiskey under the sink,
I ain’t happy til’ I have my whiskey under the sink,
I don’t even think, I just reach right under the sink,
My worries dream it, my kidneys scream it, whiskey under the sink.

I’ve got a withered soul, I’ve got a dusty heart,
Gotta clean em out, I know just the art
I’ll be shining through the night,
And in the mornin’ I’ll be paler than white,
Any excuse to sweep life beneath a rug,

Whiskey under the sink. Whiskey under the sink,
I ain’t happy til’ I have my whiskey under the sink,
I don’t even think, I just reach right under the sink,
My worries dream it, my kidneys scream it, whiskey under the sink.

And then I’m back to where I started from,
Trying to make a living, selling mustache wax and chiseling
Try to keep myself on top of my game.
But when I get ahead I keep singing the same refrain:

Whiskey under the sink. Whiskey under the sink,
I ain’t happy til’ I have my whiskey under the sink,
I don’t even think, I just reach right under the sink,
My worries dream it, my kidneys scream it, whiskey under the sink.
Track Name: We Gaun
Headed down Francisco way
Where the heavy metal pop bands play
We wouldn’t last that long
We Gaun.

Rumors had it, a man lived there
Reviews all told us, bands beware
If you happen to cross the man wrong
You Guan.

We Gaun. Gaun. Gaun. We Gaun.

Walked into Francisco, the man stood right there
He sized us up with his wicked stare
He mistakenly had us all wrong
Said “We Gaun.”

But we pay our rent, we do it on time
Just trying to pick guitars, we ain’t causing crimes
Why can’t we all get along?
Why we gaun?

We Gaun. Gaun. Gaun. We Gaun.

He said, “hold it right there
I’ve never seen you before
That’s the Greasy Boy’s space
How’d you get through the door?
I don’t like your lip!
Who do you think that you are?”
We’re the Liars Club, baby
That’s who we are

Our tenure here has hit the wall
Cuz your so short and we’re so tall
And we never seemed to meet eye to eye.

We hear you boy, loud and clear
Guess we’ll never share that beer
Guess now we traveling on
We Gaun
Track Name: Guilty by Relation
Spent my birthday with the In-laws, they gave me quite the gift.
That motor bike seemed spendy, yet I accepted it… To my regret.
I returned one day from cruising and at my door stood Sheriff Mike,
He said, “Son I’m here to claim that stolen bike.”

My In-laws are outlaws, wanted here to Tennessee,
And it won’t be long til’ the law catch on and link em’ back to me oh lord,
I’ll be guilty by relation unless I turn ‘em in,
And if I turn ‘em in, I’ll be free from sin, and I won’t have to deal with the In-laws.

I flew home from Thanksgiving, My Mother In-law cooked.
She sent me home with stuffing. In my carry-on I put.
But right between the breadcrumbs, what I found was quite a shock-
A kilo and instructions for a drop.

My In-laws are outlaws, wanted here to Tennessee
And it won’t be long til’ the law catch on and link em’ back to me,
I’ll be guilty by relation unless I turn em’ in
And if I turn ‘em in, I’ll be free from sin, and I won’t have to deal with the In-laws.

Sunday driving with the In-laws, just right after mass,
We were flying down the highway,
And a copper clocked our ass, when we were hauling grass,
But instead of pulling over, down freeway we did we go.
On a high speed chase from there to Mexico.

My In-laws are outlaws, wanted here to Tennessee
And it won’t be long til’ the law catch on and link em’ back to me,
I’ll be guilty by relation unless I turn em’ in
And if I turn ‘em in, I’ll be free from sin, and I won’t have to deal with the In-laws.

Now I’m stuck with them, In prison, and every day I got to deal with In-laws.