more from
Carpark Records

Twerp Verse

by Speedy Ortiz

supported by
Vanessa Boivin-Drolet
Vanessa Boivin-Drolet thumbnail
Vanessa Boivin-Drolet Weird chords, grungy , great vocals -I Simply love it. Favorite track: I'm Blessed.
Tom Kohn
Tom Kohn thumbnail
Tom Kohn SO are master curators of discord. Sadie's lyrics and delivery are poetic + sobering Favorite track: I'm Blessed.
Mike D.
Mike D. thumbnail
Mike D. initial worries of album not rocking were just worries. this is a great album. speedy is like a quirky, ealry liz phair. great stuff.


Favorite track: Sport Death.
Pinedon
Pinedon thumbnail
Pinedon I love the sound palette, so many colorful chunky glittery pieces and smooth licorice-thick nebulae swirling behind my eyes; strength through honesty reckoning with the absurd, clownish hell of our times--yet occasionally infused with genuine levity, if not celebration--reminds me of the best in the spirit of Ween. I love all the new kinds of sounds, synths and vocal layers, occasionally accompanied by those deep Speedy low riffs. Instantly one of my favorite records. Favorite track: Lucky 88.
Robert Stuart
Robert Stuart thumbnail
Robert Stuart We are all fortunate that Speedy Ortiz is making music. This album continues their assent as masters of their instruments and song craft. I love the fuzzy and twangy fenders and Sadies’s voice is rich and luscious. Don’t forget the groove...solid bottom end. Tightly loose, sparkling clean dirt...with love this album will take off your head! Kills!!! Favorite track: Backslidin'.
more...
/
  • Streaming + Download

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

      $9.99 USD  or more

     

  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

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

      $16.98 USD or more 

     

  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

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

      $13.98 USD or more 

     

  • Cassette
    Cassette + Digital Album

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

    Sold Out

1.
02:59
2.
3.
03:11 video
4.
5.
03:00
6.
03:20 video
7.
04:25
8.
03:29
9.
10.
04:35
11.

about

"Necessary brattiness" is the motto in Speedy Ortiz’s dauntless new collection of songs, "Twerp Verse." The follow-up to 2015's "Foil Deer," the band's latest indie rock missive is prompted by a tidal wave of voices, no longer silent on the hurt they’ve endured from society's margins. But like many of these truth-tellers, songwriter, guitarist and singer Sadie Dupuis scales the careful line between what she calls being "outrageous and practical" in order to be heard at all.

"You need to employ a self-preservational sense of humor to speak truth in an increasingly baffling world," says Dupuis. "I call it a ‘twerp verse' when a musician guests on a track and says something totally outlandish – like a Lil Wayne verse – but it becomes the most crucial part. This record is our own twerp verse, for those instances when you desperately need to stand up and show your teeth.”

"Twerp Verse" was tracked in Brooklyn DIY space Silent Barn, mixed by Omaha legend Mike Mogis (Bright Eyes, Rilo Kiley) and mastered by Grammy-nominated engineer Emily Lazar (Sia, Haim, Beck). The record pulls from the most elastic pop moments in Squeeze's Argybargy and the seesawing synth-rock of Deerhoof and the Rentals. With Dupuis on guitars, vocals, and synths, supporting guitarist Andy Molholt (of psych pop outfit Laser Background) now joins Speedy veterans Darl Ferm on bass and Mike Falcone on drums – and together they accelerate the band's idiosyncrasy through the wilderness of Dupuis' heady reflections on sex, lies and audiotape.

Dupuis, who both earned an MFA in poetry and taught at UMass Amherst, propels the band's brain-teasing melodies with her serpentine wit. Inspired by the cutting observations of Eve Babitz, Aline Crumb's biting memoirs, and the acute humor of AstroPoet Dorothea Lasky, Dupuis craftily navigates the danger zone that is building intimacy and political allyship in 2018. Now as public pushback against the old guards reaches a fever pitch – in the White House, Hollywood and beyond – the band fires shots in disillusioned Gen Y theme "Lucky 88," and casts a side-eye towards suitors-turned-monsters in the cold-blooded single "Villain." Closing track "You Hate The Title" is a slinky traipse through the banality of this current moment in patriarchy – in which survivors are given the mic, but nitpicked over the timbre of their testimonies. "You hate the title, but you’re digging the song," Dupuis sings wryly, "You like it in theory, but it’s rubbing you wrong." Tuned smartly to the political opacity of the present, "Twerp Verse" rings clear as a bell.

credits

released April 27, 2018

license

tags

about

Speedy Ortiz Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

shows

contact / help

Contact Speedy Ortiz

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Track Name: Buck Me Off
The year of the weird, bookended by booty pix I never posted. I was kissing the grime with a trigger finger in the sunrise. They told me a candle’s unlucky if it never gets to light the darkness. But I never wanna light the darkness.

‘Cause I’m in league with the devil. You better buck me off. I compete with the devil. He better stop me. Devil, you better stop me. Better find a way to top me.

Wouldn’t you mind acting as the centerfold in someone’s longing? I pitch ‘em the bird, then head down the corner store half hour to closing. Out on the avenue, there’s an innocent who says she knows you. How’d she ever get to know you? Only I can know the real you.

I’m the devil, you better buck me off. You’re in league with the devil. You better buck me off. I compete with the devil. He better stop me. Devil, you better stop me. Better find a way to top me.

Whatever happened to what we used to do?

Let’s have a padded blanket for our most manic moments. Like vampires, they sucked me up. Could you buck me off? Perishing in aftershock was never close enough. I’m complete with the devil. He better find a way to smart me. You better buck me off.
Track Name: Lean In When I Suffer
Another panic attack as I was browsing the stacks and the books were falling in an avalanche. Though he sensed I was trapped, he was busy with…something.

Now I’m checking my phone, but I don’t wanna talk. Don’t wanna lopside my language. No, I don’t wanna go off, ‘cause I lean in when I suffer.

A panic attack. Though my directive’s relax, it’s beyond my skillset. Covetous of the calm wit from a tyke uninvolved, all abyss with no clapback.

I’m checking my phone. He’s unworthy of talk. If he really wants to be the one, he’d forfeit shotgun for once, ‘cause I lean in when I suffer.

But I take him back to the county fair. I take him back though he don’t deserve to be here. He drew a bath and floated there. He cares a lot. We’re strictly speaking self-care. Lean in when I suffer again. Ahh!

I’m checking my phone but I don’t wanna talk. Don’t wanna lopside my language. No, I don’t wanna go.
Track Name: Lucky 88
I make a frown. I always wear it upside down, ‘cause life is carnage. I once was lost but now I’m floundered and running late for my funerary date. Burn me later. Could you smile while you do it? (I don’t care anymore. Swear I don’t care anymore.)

I was born with a Lucky 88 on my door. Put down your last claim to fame for me, boy. (Keep me starving or get something better started.) Try and work in this town without a silver spoon and foot in your mouth. You see that Lucky 88 on my door? (Keep me starving or get something stutter-started.)

One more time with reeling. You siphoned out the feeling. Can’t you act responsibly? You’re the sick pup who created me. Burn out and fade. I’ll convalesce you right into the grave, though I don’t care anymore. (Swear I don’t care anymore.)

I was born with a Lucky 88 on my door. Put down your last claim to fame for me, boy. Yes, I was born in the cold, clotted heart of a storm. You see that Lucky 88 on my door? (Keep me starving or get something better started.)

I was born with the Lucky 88 on my door. The Lucky 88. Do da do do.
Track Name: Can I Kiss You?
Can I kiss you? ‘Cause I want to jump when you offer me hoops. Crash a plane right into the moon as only a gesture. I feel stillborn talking for this long. Mostly I’m mutant as flaw. Kind to a criminal, twine like a ribbon.

Was it one and done, the once and future problem? When I’m averse to feeling calm, can I kiss you?

“Can you kiss me?” you asked so distastefully. Fence-hopping earned me a bruise. Attempting break-in as daybreak was slithering in, I was a dancer, down for the sanction.

Was it half as fun placing a bet on a margin? I’m so averse to moving on. Can I kiss you? Can I kiss you, can I kiss you, can I kiss you? Crash a plane right into the moon.
Track Name: Backslidin'
Took a walk in the sunlight ‘cause it wasn’t a bad night, breaking your furniture up with steel-toed boots. Swapping sweat in a steam room, you transformed into beast form, said you’d see me soon. Soon enough we were waking up as a two-for-one. Now I guess we’re backsliding into hell, but at least we know each other well.

When I finish the program, you’ll be stepping it up, gaiting straight in Japan. Piggyback to the scratch-off sale and salute me there. I guess we’re backsliding into hell, but at least we know each other well.

Through all of this kissing and tattle-telling, stricture’s getting murky. But I do perceive our clan’s destiny. Well, I guess we’ll have to wait to be friends. But at least we know each other here in hell. Seeing you is the highlight in a saccharine movie I gotta keep on mute.
Track Name: Villain
We ride the same bus. He knows my name. Covers a wet cloth. He sweats to stain. “I wanna know what kind of games you like, I wanna know what kind of games you like.” He talks like he knows me, so I’m being polite.

Know not to cater untidy spreads. We rode the same bus until it wrecked. “I wanna know what kind of porn you like.” He asks me these questions, did he earn the right? No way.

Hey, hot thing. You win some and you lose some. I’m calling security. Hey, hot thing. You blame some and you shame some. I’m hailing an ambulance. Hey, small thing. You catch some and infect some, but I don’t wanna be the sullen type. I don’t want my secrets safe for life. Onomatopoeia ‘til I never get to sleep.

I wanna know if a no means alright. I wanna know if a no means alright. He looks past my answer, did he earn the right? No way, no way.

Hey, hot thing. You win some and you lose some. I’m calling security. Hey, hot thing. You blame some and you shame some. I’m hailing an ambulance. Hey, small thing. You catch some and infect some, but I don’t wanna be the puzzling type. I don’t want my secrets safe for life. Onomatopoeia where I wouldn’t wanna be.
Track Name: I'm Blessed
I’m blessed. I am a witch and I float above everyone who would do harm on me. They crane their necks. They call me a bitch for using my powers at a party. I don’t wanna spend another night in jail for possessing the skills which I learned to defend myself.

What if I say I’m one in five grown accustomed to violence? Can I levitate past it? On the ground, my tongue’s too honest. I don’t wanna love you, I don’t wanna love you. I don’t wanna spend another night in jail for hiding the truth, which I did to defend myself. I don’t wanna love you, I don’t wanna love you, I don’t wanna love you…
Oh, I wanted to be in the portrait of love but there’s food in your teeth. Oh, I wanted to be an example of love but my spell’s getting weak! Oh, now I can see that he won’t stop running—won’t stop running from me.

But I’m not a mind reader, nor still the coyote ripping at your throat. I’m not the one you feel you owe your sorries to. Along the wilted heather, he shook me by the feather in my cloak. It’s now or it’s for never even if you’re sorry—sorry as a snake, as a snake can be.

I’m blessed with perfect pitch. I waste it on songs that you never even heard of. I’m not gonna spend another night in jail. I know I’ll survive and I don’t need your belief or your help. No, I don’t need your belief or your help.

I wanted to be in the portrait of love, but you’re running from me.
Track Name: Sport Death
We’re playing house. What I’m fixing to find out: is it a house you like? Ambling families’ intolerable ramblings, tracing their claims on design. Told ya. Why’d you ask the question if you won’t believe the answer? Why’d you ask the question? Officer, may I mistake emergent aggression for undivided protection?

If you’re part of our clan, you’ll never watch your back again. Listen in, the new professionals have got a plan. Sure, it smarts, trusting us thus far. Listen, I’m your new professional.

Guilty of ghosting, flagrantly floating. Easy to anger. I love you to death, so I’ll probably end up dead. Why’d you wear the button if you bet against the team? Why’d you grind your voice down shouting? My opponents pawns his purpose, pugnacious skirting that ends in partisan flirting.

If you're not quick to talk, they'll never let you talk at all. Listen in, the new professionals have got a plan. Sure, it smarts, trusting us thus far. Listen, I’m your new professional.

Entering the fray every waking day. That’s why I don’t wake sometimes. Cutting in and out, circuitry half gutted. That’s why I don’t play like the toys you made. They’re strutting to the new kids walking your walk, and the new professionals have got a plan. Listen, I’m your new professional.
Track Name: Alone with Girls
Put ‘er there, pals, right on the mouth. That’s where you start a kiss off. In a skeleton suit, tonguing the boot. Who is responsible here? Caterwaul to the window and back with a poison well for a bubble bath. Shouldn’t it make you cry when your right hand steps out with your old time?

No, no, no, you’re not my bro. In fact, no one should want that distinction. Riding one cool breeze under seventy degrees to keep high ‘til I’m over it. High ‘til I’m well over you.

Bandage the aspens, dumb as molasses. They hibernate half of the year. Hatchback in blue, I’m bruising you, too, so who is responsible here?

That’s something that I’d like—to find a big, pink boulder I could claim alone for life. My fortune told me to beware of joining teams. I wanna be alone. I wanna be alone. I wanna be alone with all the girls I know.

Guess I’ll hide ‘til I’m over it. I’ll hide ‘til I’m over it, hide ‘til I hail over you.
Track Name: Moving In
Was it something I said got him listening in? What was started mumbling softly turned to catching feelings again. Now I’m taking a freshman to prom, ‘cause that’s the only way I get to put him in a song. And he’s the type I wanna write a song about, the kind that makes me wanna stick around after the dance is done.

Once thought all love was affliction but I know we’re moving in, ‘cause close is how close I wanna get. In spite of frightful predictions, yeah, I know—we’re moving in, ‘cause close is how close I wanna get. I’m sick of telekinetic loneliness. I want a home where you are. We’re moving in, ‘cause close is how close I wanna get.

Though we started talking slowly, soon he was finishing sentences for me. I’m taking a freshman to prom, ‘cause that’s the only way I get to put him in a song. And he’s the type I wanna write a song about, the kind that makes me wanna stick around after the dance is done.

Once thought all love was affliction, but I know we’re moving in, ‘cause close is how close I wanna get.
Track Name: You Hate The Title
You hate the title, but you’re digging the song. You like it in theory, but it’s rubbing you wrong. You wouldn’t have wrote it, but you’re singing along. You hate the title.

I can’t, I can’t, with your “Just can’t even”s. Tinker with the levels ‘til we’re even-stevens. I blush ‘til I blemish when I think I done wrong, and you hate the title.

Bust out the shades ‘cause I shine when I rust, a crystalline compound in an oxygen rut. Are cruel intentions so sincerely a crime? If I blood let my bad thoughts, birds circle above. And you hate the title. Yeah, you hate the title.

If you like Speedy Ortiz, you may also like: