A Gentleman's Agreement

by The Art of Attraction

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    The debut album from The Art of Attraction:

    Track listing:
    A Bit of Night Music
    Le Jazz Hot
    The Montage
    We Own the Streets
    The Gentlemen's Club
    Speakeasy
    The Bride, the Groom and the Bedroom
    The Consummation
    In Transit / The Calm Before the Storm
    Battle for the Bastille
    The Desecration
    The Soldier, The Son
    Neptune
    The Swiftness of Divine Retribution
    The Arbitration
    The Martyr of the Harbour

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about

Here within lies the tale of two men, bound by brotherly ties, the most faithful of friends. Born of fortune and state, blessed with title and grace, they grew up side by side and together they made solemn vows to remain kinsman despite the strain that by power of fate would one day infiltrate, and wholly undetected, sever the ties where they once felt protected, to spark the void that fueled the fire that burned their friendship on the pyre. An execution by arson, a persecution so ardent, that no bond could hold; no brace wouldn't fold. And so fold they did, on bended knee. One on bloodied ground, one with bride to be. The void did grow to be the sea. The cold Atlantic, West to East. Construed of love, of lust, of faith, crossed by loathing and betrayed by one another under cover of contrived infidelity. Enter the players...

credits

released October 7, 2009

Kevin Colquhoun | lead vocals / guitar
Kyle Sutton | guitar / keys / vocals
Austin Gabrielli | bass / vocals
Chris Johnson | drums / percussion / vocals

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about

The Art of Attraction New Jersey

Experimental rock band from New Jersey (formerly Boston, MA). Check out our debut full-length, A Gentleman's Agreement.

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Track Name: Le Jazz Hot
The stage is set and the characters are ready to make their way from the curtain to the spotlight. But, unbeknownst to the players of this fabrication, there have been some slight revisions to the plot line and the character list. So, please, pay utmost attention to every detail, every nuance. Every forced inflection serves a purpose. Enter the hero and the woman who will be his demise. Sadly, there's no escaping his fate. Destined to be the key ingredient in this tragedy, as you'll see, he'll bear the burden of a love forbidden, draped in deceit, lose his best friend in the process, become a soldier, become captured, make a daring escape, while ignoring... the sirens sing a deadly song, lure unwary sailors to the rocks, under guise of heavenly women with stellar bodies. If we so happen to offend you with our fabrication, please, try not to take it personally. We simply jest and think it best to look on as if it were only a dream. What's in a name? I've got it bad. He's got it bad. I've got it bad. He's got it bad for you, for you, for you, for you, for you and only you.
Track Name: The Montage
I’m so synthetic and oh, you’re copacetic. You don’t know I’m the last thing that you need. I’m miserable. You’re predictable. Baby, can’t you see... that there’s an ocean here between us, and it’s oh so cold this time of year. I’m thinking that swimming is out of question, so I’ll be forced to take these oars in hand and row. Under the surface, you’ve been keeping your secret submerged under fathoms of regret, but I’m determined to successfully navigate the coves just off of your coast. There’s something magical beneath the sea. I’m thinking that sinking is my only option, but I’m nervous to breach the surf. Under the surface, you’ve been keeping your secret submerged under fathoms of regret, hoping there’s a way to drown your misery. I’m so synthetic and oh, you’re copacetic. You don’t know I’m the last thing that you need. I’m miserable. You’re predictable. Baby, can’t you see. I’m so pathetic and oh you’re copacetic, you don’t know I’m the last thing that you need. I’m miserable. You’re predictable. Baby, can’t you see…that I profess, despite duress, you’re the one I want to wed. My beloved, but not betrothed, will you please marry me? We could start over again with a fairy tale ending, a love well-pretended to be anything, guaranteed...
Track Name: We Own the Streets
I’ll be the first. I’ll be the first one to confess that I’m a sinner and she’s a saint that I’ll just taint with utter disregard for her emotions. It’s been a notion for quite some time that I’ll get mine, one way or another, otherwise I wouldn’t waste my time. You’d think we’d learn from our mistakes, but they only spark our curiosity. You’d think we’d turn, lest we partake in acts of deception, but we enjoy the animosity. We own these streets. We run this town and everything around. We heat the sheets with girls who mean nothing and then sneak off while they sleep. I’ll be the first. I’ll be the first one to confess to these charges pressed against me. I’m guilty by default, but I swear, this isn’t all my fault. She had a hand in the crimes we’ve committed against integrity… a hand well-versed in handsome infidelity. Well, boys, you are completely on your own. There are plenty of fine ladies in this establishment. Well, boys, you are completely on your own. Make your fathers proud.
Track Name: The Gentlemen's Club
The night is young, and so are you. Take off your jackets and relish the view. There's always an empty seat, so bring all your friends. Come on down and enjoy it! Women dance on tables as if it's their job. Well, maybe it is, but maybe it's not. Scantily clad and willing to show for any amount the men opt to throw. Men all act like animals, staring at the pretty girls and begging them to take off their clothes, just a little faster. Please show a little more skin! Anything it takes to get their after-hours fix. Business is closed, but the clubs are wide open, just like the women, so come in, state your business. The ringmaster leads, pouring drink after drink to the thunderous applause of tonight's audience; clapping and cheering as liquor is poured from the bottle to the glass to the lips to the floor. Men all act like animals, staring at the pretty girls and reaching down into their clothes, like animals, throwing money in the air, drinking what's left in their cups. But it's never quite enough to cleanse them of their dirty hands and the sins they've committed in shedding their pants. Men all act like animals, staring at the pretty girls and reaching down into their clothes, just a little faster. Please show a little more skin! Anything it takes to get their after-hours fix. Business is closed, but the clubs are wide open, just like the women, so come in, state your business. Business is closed, but the clubs are wide open, just like the women, so come in, escape the Misses. Business is closed, but the clubs are wide open, just like the women, so come in and take a mistress.
Track Name: Speakeasy
Follow, feet. Do not flee the scene. Shed the lead and lightly tread. Heel, toe, to the shadows. Tip-toe home. Make haste by city light. Dodge passersby. Take flight to the shelter of your throne, in your kingdom all alone; tucked off in the countryside where your weary feet reside, content to be the lords upon the loam they call their court, their swarth. Though slightly cold, these limbs are bold. Pardon me, if I'm too forward. I know your legs were ill-prepared for this confession, but I lack sober discretion, so listen; even though you wear it well, that ring on your finger is a sin, for false pretenses were the grounds upon which it was given to you. You and I were made in match. We are kindred souls. We're meant to be. I couldn't hold my breath; couldn't bite my tongue anymore. A hand's romance. Fingers feel their way until they lovingly embrace their mates and lay softly interlaced. Star-crossed lover adorned, these hands are crowns of thorns. What misery they'll reap. With famine they will seed the soil. But hark! What light on yonder window breaks? 'Tis but the sun. And it comes to beckon me away. Parting is such sweet sorrow. I won't forget the way I felt when we first met. I wish I'd said it first. Please don't do this. I'll second guess the words I said to him. On bended knee, he asked of me my hand and I gave it. I'll be honest that when we kiss, I pretend it's your lips. Wherefore art thou? How could I vow myself to someone else? This suitor doesn't suit her. He hides behind his countenance. It's such a shame this lovely dame is haltered to the altar.
Track Name: The Bride, The Groom and the Bedroom
Something old and something new, something borrowed, something blue. The bride is frantic, in a panic, as she tears apart the room. “How could I let it slip my mind?” she said. “Could this be a sign?” He says he loves her, but her senses say he reeks of deception. It’s not what you’d expect from the bride of this poor groom. Oh, poor groom, indeed. At least that’s what he hopes she’ll believe, while he creeps to the ladies of the night in the streets, and she sleeps with a man who better fills her sheets. Dearly beloved, oh, we are gathered here to witness this matrimony—a charming example of this holy sacrament. What a beautiful ceremony! Ma’am, do you solemnly swear to accept this man to be your lawfully wed husband? To have and to hold as long as you both shall live, through sickness and in health? Til death do us part. Casting looks across the room, he meets the gaze of someone new. Someone dangerously elegant, and eloquent to boot. He hooks a smile and stands up, downs the contents of his cup, makes his way across the dance floor to the ladies room with her. It’s not what you’d expect from the newly wed bridegroom on his wedding night, while his bride is dancing with the best man, oh perhaps just a tad closer than should ever be forgiven, so let’s toast to all those who give up single lives for wedding ties, it’s far too much to pre-comprehend. If anybody has any legitimate reason why these two should not be happily married, forever and after, please speak now or forever hold your peace. “I object! I object! Oh, this wedding’s an accident waiting to happen. Oh, please stop this, Reverend. You’ve got to believe that these rumors are true. There’s a culprit at the pulpit.” “Son, I regret to inform you, you’re moments too late to stop this now.”
Track Name: The Consummation
Two crows, disguised as doves, sailed across the open water to the shores above Madrid and hid. Two criminals, they flee their painful history of blasphemy and lackadaisical decrees to appease expectations of engagement�matrimonial arrangements�no matter how extensive, they could never fill the void. Well disguised with lies contrived to fool the unwary lot, but no degree of treachery could mask a murder amidst the flock. Sultry skin, wrapped tightly in red satin. Vivacious curves, they twist and turn and tempt his nerves to act out on lusty impulses. He convulses to the touch of her lips, what a hot heavy kiss, as she struts her stuff in high heeled pumps and risqu� lingerie. What a scene! Would the bartender please pass a glass of confidence to the bride's groom. It's what he needs to continue the consummation of his engagement. Right away, it's obvious that he's not the man he thought that he could be. Linen slips from the shoulders down to the hips, as shaky hands trace ancient maps to learn her curves, despite having worked up a cold sweat, he stands erect, from the tips of his toes to the tip of his nose. Oh, he's trembling while she's pretending�how polite of her to fake it! Watch as Miss Innocent sheds her old skin; gives up a life full of virtue for sin. The alcohol flows through her veins like a catalyst, numbing her senses and conquering abstinence. What a scene! Would the bartender please pass a glass of obstinence to the bride soon. It's what she needs to continue the obligations of her engagement. Right away, it's obvious that he's not the man she thought he'd grow to be. It's amazing what a drink can do when it slips into the bloodstream. It's amazing what this drink can do when it slips into their bloodstreams.
Track Name: In Transit / The Calm Before the Storm
Somewhere across the sea, the wind is blowing heavily against the trees. Word through the grapevine is a storm is brewing the likes of which we have never seen... a squall of astronomical proportions. Cohorts from all across the globe leave their wives and sons to answer a call to arms. They leave their homes and march to far away lands, under command to fell the enemy with shouldered weaponry to fell the enemy, fire at will for God, gold and glory. Under the ocean lies the secret to intrinsic and eternal life. Sunken beneath the waves, a wreck no one could salvage, the crew left unsaved. Coalitions of munitions volley back and forth, singing songs of war.
Track Name: Battle for the Bastille
I've never felt so in tune. The cold air has a strange effect. I have a heightened sense of things.

His weapon is simply an extension of his body; it shoulders smoothly. Lax and loose, he pulls the trigger and she sings a melody -- song so vivid and so deafening -- in harmony with artillery and the screams of casualties.

The silence shatters to the sound of small arms chatter as these weapons speak in crudely drafted prose. Clip-fed poetics in the arms of young lieutenants beckon for their bearers to desert. Ignore rifle reports as the target's skin contorts to the contour of the bullets. Ruptured organs spew a crimson colored stream.

Onward marching, soldiers charging forward, arms in arms. Bullets discharging downrange, dispatched to penetrate. We've got to shoulder this fine weaponry before the enemy's infantry can mount artillery and batteries upon us. Toe to toe with our fatal foes, steady fingers empty magazines.

Never surrender, never retreat. My brain begs my body to comfort my feet, and it's hard to keep them grounded when they're so tempted to flee. The battlefield is not what it seems in the motion pictures. Masculinity lacks virility. Men become like little children.

They say there's glory to die in battle. I beg to differ. I beg to leave. It's not as it seems in the motion pictures.

Onward marching, soldiers charging towards objectives designated on their maps. Onward marching, soldiers charging, unaware of certain death entrenched in these trenches.

Lacerations last durations longer than the desperation lingered on their eager tongues, bellowed forth by damaged lungs.
(Medic! Medic! Corpsman, bring the morphine! Induce coma while their bodies purge their veins.)
Track Name: The Desecration
There exists a ring, and a finger to which it belongs. But the finger was a liar, convinced the ring to play along to its plan to grace the hand with which it's kept a secret affair from the hand's four other suitors and the things she's reached to bear. And by offering to wear the ring around his neck to show his faith, he could win the hand's affection; all he needed was the bait. So tongue in cheek, he spoke the words that the ring wanted to hear. Words of trust, of love, eternally, just to keep it near, so that the hand would never chance a glance and see the ring was gone and bless upon another suitor her graces of love, or lust. Whatever she's calling it these days. It must be so convenient to be so proficient at being fake. How unfortunate for the ring to be so circular, so consistent, oh, so vulnerable to malicious intent. When fingers cross, there is sure to be blood. The slightest sleight of hand can lead to desecration.
Track Name: The Soldier, The Son
The telephone rings. Wires conducting bring solemn words from a mother to a friend. How explicitly and vividly they conjure images in his head, like a slow, full-motion picture playing out before his eyes. He tries to close them, but it's hopeless. Stubborn lids fail to comply to his direction, despite repeated attempts to force submission. Now remission is his mission for the evening. He's grieving on the inside. He feels reprise as he mourns for some reprieve. The funeral takes place in the rain, conveniently hiding the tears as they stream from the ducts to the cheeks of the women who weep for the loss of a young man, a best friend, a soldier, a son.
Track Name: Neptune
The tide will turn, swallow the earth, to purge the land of sins of man. Let fall these arms from arms. We'll walk tall arms in arms. Stand down, all, disengage. Surrender to lovers, two lovers, embrace.
Track Name: The Swiftness of Divine Retribution
This heart still has a steady pulse and these lungs, though numb, were never breathless. These eyes still show signs of life. Stick to the plan. Don't let your hands show any signs of weakness. For months you have planned, despite being damned to endure this treatment. A seed that was sewn has patiently grown, deep inside this prison. Its roots have dug deep, under cover they creep, until this tree has arisen. Its branches will reach out, with conviction, to seek out the flaws in these tall walls. These bars could never hold. I'll shatter this metal; break all the welds. You'll never take me alive. I'll never fall victim. I'll never give in to these demons. Call all your forces. Signal the troops. Sound the alarm. Battalions and galleons of soldiers and foes could never halt my escape. The world is an awful place, and nothing will be the same. When war is the answer, then whatever was the question wasn't worth it. The world is an awful place, and no one will be the same. When hatred consumes us, our children exhume us. We hope that they'll learn from our mistakes. I'm a fatal force to be reckoned with. A fury, a fire, burns within. Strap on your armor, lads, wrought heavy iron-clad. I'll put you in the ground. Ash to ash, dust to dust. The world is an awful place, and nothing will be the same. When war is the answer, then whatever was the question wasn't worth it. The world is an awful place, and no one will be the same. When hatred consumes us, our children entomb us in hopes that they'll quarantine our fate.
Track Name: The Arbitration
Ladies and gentlemen of this esteemed jury, I am sure that I need not remind you of this, but this case is of utmost importance to me. It’s obviously evident that the plaintiff and the defendant wish to sever ties of consummation. Our goal here today is to reveal their motivation. Let’s backtrack every footstep, retrace that evening’s tell tale signs, round up a slew of affidavits to reconstruct events transpired. We have a civic duty to rule as evidence suggests, based off of testimony these fine attorneys should present. I do hereby swear to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth. The plaintiff claims that he’s been misled by the alleged defense. I’m confident that the opposite has been the case all along, because I saw him sneak off with some woman that I’ve never met, with that bleach blonde hair and a crimson red dress. Objection, your honor, irrelevance! The defense lacks the sufficient evidence to back up the statements of its key eye witness. Please strike them from the record, they are simply malicious! Objection sustained, counsel, please strike that from the case record. I have no tolerance for judicial libel in my court. If there are no further questions, bring the next witness to the bench for cross examination. You have the floor, counsel defense. Please describe what you saw on that said night on the dance floor. Who was dancing with the bride? I was scouring the dance floor in search of an advantageous opportunity. It took me a moment to completely understand the situation that was unfolding right before my eyes. I couldn’t believe what I saw, because right where there should be a newly wed couple was the bride with the groom’s best man.
Track Name: The Martyr of the Harbour
The undertow is gripping me. I'm kicking and screaming. The current is carrying me deeper, deeper into the sea. Oh no. The current reclaims me as the evening tide recedes, retreating from the beach with the empty hull of me. Oceanic Miss Atlantic calls us with her song. Under fathoms, we all gather, in spite of bursting lungs to learn the secret she's been keeping from each of us for years, 'til one by one, our lungs succumb. We surface, surface from the deep. Oceanic Miss Atlantic calls us with her song. The water's crushing me with its pressure at these depths. I try to breathe in, but I can't move my chest. In seconds, this vessel is surely to keel. Round up a crew to organize a rescue. This ship is my tomb, this water my grave. Oh no.