Everything Is Cheaper Than It Looks

by Turnstile Junkpile

supported by
Robin Thorpe
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Robin Thorpe My favourite album of 2012. An exciting blend of dirty roots-rock and soulful country. Favorite track: Zanzibar.
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    Liner notes, lyrics, etc, all at www.turnstilejunkpile.co.uk

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about

From the country-fuelled Time is Running Out that opens it through to the angry sweatshop energy of the title track, this debut album has a depth and diversity of Americana grooves influenced by sixties soul, southern twang, all in music that is beautiful, and nasty, and dirty, and funky.

Lyrics, liner notes, etc: www.turnstilejunkpile.co.uk

REVIEWS:

"4 stars. It gathers Byrdsian Americana banjos, pedal steel and harmonies, and reflects on life's crueller ironies, but it's done with humour, imagination and a grottily anthemic title track."
– Q Magazine, UK

"Turnstile Junkpile have created a piece of real deal Americana. Without any reservation this is a fine album."
– Fatea Magazine, UK

MOJO Playlist of essential tracks, Oct 2012. "This Isn't What I Signed Up For: Rolling riposte to maturity and sober good sense , with pedal stell and sweet guitar licks."
– MOJO magazine, UK

"Excellent. Warm expressive lead vocals, tremendous harmonies, excellent writing, gorgeous steel guitar. If you are a fan of alt-country I can't imagine you will be disappointed. Their future looks very bright."
– American Roots UK

“The musicality is remarkable, the high-quality lyrics are provoking and a fascinating glimpse into a deep soul, the harmonies are tight, and style just right. This one will be on repeat for a long time to come.”
– Independent Sky, USA

“Five stars. They master the influences of roots without falling into a retro sound. If we lived in a normal world this would be on the radio all day. Think of the Flying Burritos or the Byrds, but contemporary. A wink to Whiskeytown. There is plenty to dig here.”
– Los Hijos de Bastardos de Henry Chinaski, Spain

“Reminiscent of The Jayhawks, The Band and The Byrds. On all the tracks everything is just right, but also loose and uninhibited. The EP has an incredible amount to offer. A band to keep an eye on.”
– De Krenten Uit De Pop, The Netherlands

"They're from the deep south - of England! - but I'd swear these guys were another great alt country band from the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Our featured Song of the Week is How How How."
– Family Reunion Country, USA

"Diversity here is celebrated. Old country next to folk rock, soul next to southern states blues. A real joy.”
– Das Klienicum, Germany

"Quality classic Americana from the heart of London. Turnstile Junkpile sound as if they are the sons of Jackson Browne, brothers of Dawes, and cousins with the Punch Brothers"
– Syncopated Sound, UK

"A wonderful CD. Americana, yet with a European influence."
– Drifter Country, Netherlands

"A great blend of Americana and Southern rock. Stirring harmonies, twangy banjo, wicked good guitar riffs. Their debut album makes it clear this is a band on the rise."
– Popa's Tunes, USA

"An excellent debut from a band that deserve a far wider recognition."
– Electric Ghost, UK

“Banjo, organ and lovely harmonies intertwine with juicy guitars. There are no weak songs. A fine product from a band we are sure to hear more from.”
– Hør Nä Hør Nä, Norway

“Banjo, lap steel, folky bluegrass, excellent raw singing reminiscent of The Byrds. Unexpected American sounds from this London group.”
– Rootstime, Belgium

“Watch out when pristine performances and exquisite traditional instrumentation intertwine with banjo and graceful pedal steel to produce some rock, some dirt and some garage. The title track is a timeless delight. A very good debut from a band that promises many joys. Do not miss them.”
– Route Americana, Spain

credits

released June 9, 2012

Mat Clark - lead vocals, guitars, harmonica and keyboards
Ben Sumner - pedal steel, lap steel, banjo and backing vocals
Lawrence McNamara - bass and backing vocals
Dave Shaw - drums

Turnstile Junkpile / Requisite Nasty Records 2012. Cat no: NASTY001

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about

Turnstile Junkpile UK

Americana and alt-country grooves from a London-based four piece with pedal steel, banjo, harmonies and all the rest of it.

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Track Name: Time Is Running Out
Time is Running Out

We stumbled across a reservoir, that looked just like a Roman spa, with you,
We busked on Carlo’s old guitar and made our way to Omaha, with you,
In run down, no hope towns we ate and opened up an old debate, with you,
Nothing built could slow us down as back to rain and eiderdown we flew.

But time is running out.

The night we spoke of Superflies, that flew on earth and walked on sky, with you,
We watched you through our bloodshot eyes as you stood screaming at the fire, “It’s True!”,
We walked through cold industrial towns, as sun came up and moon fell down, with you,
We gambled, drank and theorised, and laughed out loud until we cried, all with you.

But time is running out.

Big or small, we took them all.
Rode the waves, and felt the falls.
We lived and loved, and laughed and cried,
We ruled the world when time was on our side.

But time is running out.
Track Name: This Isn't What I Signed Up For
This Isn't What I Signed Up For

I dreamt I sat on a sandy beach, far away and out of reach,
The sound of crying filled my head, made me jump out of my bed,
4am and here we are, staring at my old guitar,
Now I’m cleaning piss off the bedroom floor, this isn’t what I signed up for.

Let’s fuck it all and run away,
Join the circus for a day,
I don’t care what your mum would say.

We were lovers way back when, we could talk and we were friends,
Now we don’t talk, we bitch and whine, I’ll stab your back, you stab mine,
Sex is just like Christmas cheer, it only comes but once a year,
My back creaks like an old barn door, this isn’t what I signed up for.

Let’s fuck it all and run away,
Join the circus for a day,
I don’t care what your mum would say.

Let’s fuck it all and run away,
Join the circus for a day,
I don’t care what your mum would say,
Over the hills and far away,
No one told me it would be this way.
Track Name: Wishing Well
Wishing Well

You can pray if you want to, but the wishing well is dry.
They’ll never hear your cries, as hard as you may try.

You can beg like a pauper, it’ll fall on stony ground.
You can howl like a hound, but your voice won’t make a sound.

You can plead for forgiveness, but they’ll never hear your pleas.
You can get down on your knees. You can say your Hail Marys.

You could wail like a banshee. Stick some paper in the wall.
You can build your temples tall. Further down for you to fall.

Save your breath and stand in line with all the rest.

Because you don’t get a pass, you have to get up off your arse.
So don’t call your maker's name just to hide your living shame.
You’re a bad man and we know that just the same.


You can sing Hallelujah, go to church from time to time.
You can take a little wine. You could never touch the swine.

You can bow to a statue. You can shave off all your hair.
Buy some special clothes to wear. You could never touch down there.

You can preach if you have to. You can tell them what to eat.
Tell them not to eat the meat, of certain things with certain feet.

You can lie if you want to. You can burn those bridges down.
Watch them smoking on the ground, but the flames won’t make a sound.

Save your time and grab a ticket, wait in line.

Because you don’t get a pass, you have to get up off your arse.
So don’t call your maker's name just to hide your living shame.
You’re a bad man and we know that just the same.
Track Name: How How How
How How How

Look out boys
Here comes your Dad
6 days of smiling got him spitting fire mad
Hold my hand
And don’t let go
I’ll tell you something I don’t want no one to know.

Come on kids
You’ve had your fun
‘bout time you realised you’re not Gods only son.

How how how
Look who’s laughing now
Splitscreen and daydream, take your prize and take a bow.
Hey hey hey
Your Daddy’s gone away,
16 in the morning and nobody wants to play.

You ring my bell
You call my name
You stand there laughing while I’m dancing in the rain
Hey cherry girl
Hey blue eyes
Nobody’s watching you don’t need to look surprised.

Lock the door
Give up the key
This here’s your future, lay that down and follow me.

How how how
Look who’s laughing now
Splitscreen and daydream, take your prize and take a bow.
Hey hey hey
Your Daddy’s gone away
16 in the morning and nobody wants to play.
Track Name: Zanzibar
Zanzibar

She kept on knocking on the kitchen door
But still I had no idea.
Why couldn’t things be like they were before?
Why did you have to go and disappear?

On the first plane out to Zanzibar
And drinking beer from the can
Sunday driving in a rented car
Footloose and shacked up with another man.

She said that she was gonna be back soon
She left a present in the living room
How could the poor boy ever understand?
The earth was sinking, what were we thinking?

She said that she was gonna be back soon
She left a present in the living room
How could the poor boy ever understand?
The earth was sinking, what were we thinking?

Sunday morning creeping out the door
With all she owned in her hands
Drunk and ugly on the bathroom floor
One night of free love more than she could stand.

She kept on knocking on the kitchen door
But still I had no idea.
Why couldn’t things be like they were before?
Why did you have to go and disappear?
Track Name: In The Morning
In The Morning

In the morning
We’ll talk again my dear
In the morning
All will become clear
In the morning
With the sunlight in our eyes
In the morning
We’ll give it one more try

When the car lights hit the window and make movies on the wall
And our fuzzy-headed thinking makes the hurdles seem so tall
Well just lay your pretty head down and we’ll talk about it all
In the morning
In the morning
In the morning.

In the morning
We’ll see the other's side
In the morning
We’ll laugh at tears we cried

It’s just the full moon's drunken whispers putting dark thoughts in our minds
Makes our faces hard with anger, and our cold words so unkind
We’re just rowing round in circles, but we’ll leave this all behind
In the morning
In the morning
In the morning
Track Name: Everything Is Cheaper Than It Looks
Everything Is Cheaper Than It Looks

Come right in but mind the step, the name is Archie Moore
Pleased to meet you one and all, and welcome to my store
Seven generations got their pictures on the wall
Junior’s here right by my side to take care of you all
So you see it’s plain that we are not your average crooks
Everything is cheaper than it looks

Walter's in the basement, just trying to make a crust
He ain’t seen the sun in 15 years and his eyes have turned to dust
Sally’s in the backroom dishing out the pills
Potions, herbs and remedies to cure all of your ills
You’ll be coming back for more cos it’ll hook you what she cooks
Everything is cheaper than it looks

We’ve got boiler suits and gasmasks left over from the war
There’s a box of purple umbrellas over by the door
Rows and rows of sweatshop clothes with such a modest tag
You may think you care but life’s not fair and it’ll jump right in your bag
A box of plastic avocado shower curtain hooks
Everything is cheaper than it looks

So don’t be shy if you’re passing by, pop in and pass the time
We get new stock around the clock and things are going just fine
Ten kinds of toxic scented candles just new in today
And fat-free beer and virtual cheer to help you on your way
We got cardboard chairs and rubber cheese
And plastic birds in plastic trees
And all of these are cheaper than they look