New York≈Hoboken

by Lach

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"Roger (ed. Roger Manning, antifolk pioneer) asked me to come by his tiny apartment studio to record something for a project he was putting together of LES antifolkers inspired in part by Billy Syndrome's style of recording. When I got there the wonderful musician Janice Sloan was there with a guitar. I'm not sure how it all coagulated together. One of us probably said something like "Let's just make some beautiful noise and Lach'll be all poetical on top of it." As soon as Janice hit those first chords I just started a spontaneous slam. Perhaps I had seen Hoboken from the window or on my way to Roger's but it all worked. First thought, best thought. It originally came out on a cassette that Roger put out called 'Joe Folk and The Soho Valley Boys" which is available from Roger's bandcamp page. I love the cut and would dig doing more of this kind of thing." - Lach


released June 17, 2017

Lach - Vocals, Ambience
Janice Sloan - Guitar
Roger Manning - Production



all rights reserved


Lach Edinburgh, UK

Lach, founder of the Antifolk movement and star of BBC Radio 4's The Lach Chronicles.

‘Beat-punk-unplugged joy!’-The Guardian UK

‘Splendid! Best of it's kind!’- Mojo

‘Incredibly bright, influential, funny, poetic.’-Suzanne Vega

‘Best punk guitarist since Johnny Ramone.’-Billy Ficca of Televis
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Track Name: New York≈Hoboken
New York - Hoboken

Scared streets swim in front of me
Fifty cops waiting to bust me
Fifty women waiting to trust me
A million stars wheel above me

Crazy train, where the hell am I?
I can't find a paper or an exit sign
Guess I better call that friend of mine
Maybe he found my lost piece of mind

O, Hoboken I want to kiss you
Ruby night let me love you
Jealous city put your legs up high
And welcome me into your scarlet night

Like I was Lao Tzu
Like I’m some sort of patient-ass Buddha

Which I’m not

I am television
Transmissions from
Cape Kennedy

Kennedy is President​
Rockefeller is governor

I am three-minute songs
Broadcast from New York
Brucie is my cousin
Floyd is my uncle

Like the melody don't matter
Like the words don't matter
Peasants throbbing

I won't be beat

I don't own mirrors
or telephones

Amish bohemia

I don't rhyme dream with seem
or sing about my tough luck

Our common boundaries
Our shared death

Bombs exploding

I won't think about
The next day

Anarchists have enough trouble
With the next second