Festival Of Fibberies

by Hermit Convention

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This is a originally part of a split tape release with New Bengal Spice on 1019 records.


released May 29, 2010

written, performed, and recorded by Craig Prentice. mastered by Mason Rothschild at Indigital Studio.



all rights reserved


Hermit Convention Santa Cruz, California

Weaving together a pastiche of lyrical snapshots consisting of past memories and drunken recollections, Hermit Convention may come off as purposefully obscure. However, it's a criticism that is muted upon repeat listens, as Craig Prentice's true genius lies in crafting songs that are built like forests. It's easy to see why those who don't get it are really just aiming for the trees. -Lee Bedrouni ... more

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Track Name: Martyrs
praise dead gospel
i'm not so hostile as i used to be
i only hate the god you claim to be

one drenched arrow
wasted marrow dripping from the tip
chugging 40's that you tried to sip

why can't we admit we're wired to
submit our resignations to
attack the landlocked nations

i am my own doctor
despise the helicopter that spies from the sky
telling strangers that you want to

die from a self-inflicted knife wound
die in a cubicle adjacent to

what used to be a forest
now a well dressed tourist
contemplates his epitaph
imploring us not to
laugh at all his current indiscretions
while a busload full of hessians
ignites the desert air
protesting their careless existence
infantile resistance beats a foolish consistence

see what they mean
don't be what they dream
quit selling the suck off
and tell him to fuck off and

die like a million martyrs
die like a million martyrs before him
Track Name: PDX
portland i wanna marry your daughter
dance with your dad
crash on the couch at your sister's

portland you're so idealistic
your mystical shit
shimmers in miles of river

portland we locked eyes as we kissed
while you playfully dissed
on my hipness with listlessness

portland where does malkmus live
he's got no room to give
so he keeps his address to himself

p-town down in the fountain
got kicked in the shin
by mice so modest
you're an indie rock goddess

we just got here
and peter left yesterday
Track Name: Useless
my bombs are dropping on your cities
i'm so sorry i'm not listening
i'm useless at 4 in the morning
i'm useless most of the time
Track Name: Your Best Friend's Favorite Song
we met and decided to always try to
hold out for the enemy
but how do we know that it's not me
the anchor is so firmly seated
in a blinding trusting sorta fucking stupid way
and i hope you had a really nice day

go dance for the kids who never had chance
to belie anonymity
still sporting the wrong shoes and socks
their bony legs just shy of atrophy
their hearts' rapid beating on a tattered sleeve
just like a dry leaf gently scraping down your street

hang on for the second encore
we promise to play all of our big hits
so show us your tits and sing along
to your best friend's favorite song
you know the one
where it's going on way too long
and the guitar screams like (this)

we met and decided to always try to
hold out for the enemy
but how do we know that it's not me
the walls are slowly closing in
this couch is wearing thin
and the joy is just a memory
and so you crush the leaf beneath your feet