Old Disguise - Buy now


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Old Disguise - The Crying Shame Old Disguise


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About the Band

The mangled debate stumbled into its final hour, bleeding on the white shag of the Senate floor. Outside, a stiff wind whipped around indices on unemployment and loneliness, both rising at an alarming clip. Inside, the senator — dignified with his silver hair, throbbing red face and tailored suit — took the floor.

“This,” he said gravely, “is a simple question of whose is bigger, and plainly I have the biggest one here.”

He whipped it out. A murmur spread across the floor like a wave, waking several legislators.

“A senior member,” said a fellow senior member.

“My Lincoln is running on its rims,” said another, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Hot tubs,” said a bloated third.

The speaker, heretofore on his lips on the lacquered hardwood around the bully pulpit, scraped himself up and cleared a bombed out throat. Silence. He opened his mouth and emitted a growl that lapsed into a yawn.

"Put some music on," he finally croaked, before curling up fetal again and drifting off to dreams of lobbyists.

Bipartisan discussion revealed no one knew what album to put on. A collective sigh ushered in what could only be more tired drudgery leading up to a sordid happy hour.

Until the congresswoman — unflapped, lucid and looking surprisingly fresh — sat up straight and leaned into her microphone, tucking a blond lock behind her ear.

“It's time we got back to the core issues,” she said over snoring, “A song built like a mausoleum, capped by soaring female vocals. Humble, well-trained musicians, cello, violin, guitar, drums. I mean, come on you guys. We've lost our way here.”

This last part, colloquial and vaguely critical, awoke curiosity. "What's it sound like?" asked an incredulous representative.

“It sounds good, like salvation after hitting bottom. You know, Lou Reed, Hank Sr., most chamber music. Here, give it a listen.”

The congresswoman put an album on. Careful not wake the speaker, most of the lawmakers rose and padded across the dingy shag, stepping gingerly over the crimson stains on their way to ruin.

A handful stayed, enjoying a nice night of music as they mopped up the gore and felt their strength return.