Green Light

by Smear Campaign

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1.
05:24
2.
06:18

about

Smear Campaign's third release is the first to showcase the formation of their live band. With the addition the rhythm section of Trevor Shandling (providing the initial composition of Green Light) on drums and Jeff Smith on the bass, the band forgoes many of the electronic elements of their previous releases in favor of a more jazz-inspired, human sound while still exploring textural depth.

credits

released December 6, 2016

Taylor Kreemer - keyboards, synthesizers
Trevor Shandling - drums
Jeff Smith - bass guitar
Model Citizen, Josh Stanley - vocals, guitar, sound design

Engineered by Josh Stanley and Trevor Shandling
Mixed by Josh Stanley
Mastered by Dave Polster
Artwork by Davey Hines

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about

Smear Campaign Chicago, Illinois

Smear Campaign is a stew of jazz, trip-hop, and progressive rock influences that is currently being brought to a boil in Chicago, IL.

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Track Name: Green Light
You think it’s dead.
But from the earth a hand, a head.
Reminders of what wasn’t said.
A darting eye lands on flesh crawling near.
Recalls a sound missing from your ear.
The only song you’d ever hear given the choice.

But I won’t run,
though these knees are feeble.
I wouldn’t flee,
even if these legs were able.

I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
This thing was buried deep
in the clay. It was tucked away.
I had only just got my fingers clean.

But I’ll break free.
I will learn to run once more.
Make a bee-line to the tree line.
Through the forest lies the shore.

You thought it was dead,
but now you wish you’d never met,

But I’ll break free.
I will learn to run once more.
Make a bee-line to the tree line.
Through the forest lies the shore.

So if one day you look out to the sea,
on a clear night,
see a green light,
know that’s all that’s left of me.
Track Name: NoNY
People say,
“Give me a set path.
Give me a way.
To avoid the hard times.
To side step the blues.”
You can make green but to paint that portrait you need other hues,
or in the end you’ll have a painting fit for an audience of raccoons.

(I’m) not saying it can’t make you happy,
working all day to have the world at your fingertips,
if you can make the time for it,
but me I don’t have the time to live that 9-5,
or survive my graveyard grind without some food for my hungry mind.
I can’t be spending my days
trying to make a living (wage).
Waging war on the rent.
Trying to make a dent
in what was spent
just to prevent minimum wage,

“Get a job. Make yourself a living. Make yourself. Living is not something to enjoy. Smiles are for the boys. Smiles are for boys. The weight of what you owe will break your mother’s back, like the cracks in the pavement. Make the time to make rent, but this city is not cheap, so eat your eggs and your beans, and just sit and read by your smoldering degree hoping to see. But is it better to see clearly or be able to buy glasses? Just follow the masses. Just follow the masses. Just follow the masses. Slaughter the anomalies until everyone matches. Until everyone matches.”



No room for squatters.
Not fit to date daughters.
With no stable dollars.
With less-than-white collars.
Why bother?