Chuckle Change And Also

by The Chewers

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Explody Smurf Oh, COME ON... like you couldn't watch the videos to "Funnel Head" and "Techno Slaves" and *not* buy this!!!! Favorite track: Can't Sleep.
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Dental Drill Classic blues... mostly... well, some. Sort of. Favorite track: Techno-Slaves.
  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Chuckle Change And Also 4 panel digipak released through Cimmerian Shade Recordings (

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    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Live at Exit/In, Dead Dads, "Live" in the Mouthhole, Chuckle Change And Also, and Every Drop Disorganized. , and , .

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Funnel Head:

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Chewers are Travis Caffrey and Michael Sadler, two freaks from the woods of West Virginia. After incubating separately in the strange, timeless hills of the back­woods, they met and eventually wound up (quite arbitrarily) in Nashville, Tennessee.

Within a dense fog of cultish isolation, they create deliberately off­-kilter music. Each Chewer plays various instruments which coagulate into an eclectic blend of deadpan, primitive rock, heavily focused on rhythmic interplay and unbalanced melodic car­-crashes.

The songwriting has a strong isolationist streak running through it. The songs feature characters who are immersed in psychological hells, struggling with deep disconnect and dissatisfaction with the society they live in. Though thematically dark, these subjects are presented with a crooked sense of humor and the absurd.

"Twisted hillbilly noise-­rock...fascinating, unpredictable, and doesn't sound much like anything else I've heard lately."
-Music for Maniacs

"...a chopped ‘n’ screwed Beefheart..."
-Echoes And Dust

"...full to the brim with mind melting, idiosyncratic, Beefheartian punk from the outer limits..."
-The Devil Has The Best Tuna

"Outstanding ­­ funny, weird, and rocking."
-Johnny Dowd

"...Pessimistic, avant-­garde Americana, but with a wry sense of humor."
-Here Comes the Flood

"...Rugged, roughly-­hewn, juddering oddball folk, the perfect soundtrack for a doomed world...Nightmarish, witty, compelling and deeply, deeply unusual."
-Neill Dougan (

"(They sound) as though a couple of tattooed hillbillies decided to retire early from the bathtub speed trade and form a band based on the Residents and Tom Waits records they found at a yard sale in Wheeling."
-The Weirdest Band in the World

"The Chewers address (themselves) to the awkwardness and uncertainty of real people, with rhythms that mimic the gestures of rock, but stumble along like the slightly­ overweight and under­ rested on their way to work after a disturbed night on a cheap mattress...There's creativity and intelligence in every moment of this album, even at its most random and bizarre, and its most serious points are directed via that most subversive of channels: laughter."
-Oliver Arditi (

"Their Americana is absurd and brutal, part Faulkner and part 'Gummo'..."
-Dann Chinn (


released October 11, 2013

All songs written, performed, and recorded by The Chewers
(Travis Caffrey and Michael Sadler)

Mastering by Rob Kleiner

CD released through Cimmerian Shade Recordings



all rights reserved


The Chewers Nashville, Tennessee

Two freaks who crawled from the woods of West Virginia to taint the waters of the Nashville underground.

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Track Name: Can't Sleep
Can't Sleep, Can't Sleep
Can't Sleep, Can't Sleep

Can't Sleep, Can't Sleep
Can't Sleep, Can't Sleep

I can't sleep
Mind is wide
Heart pound loud
Flightless time

Pointless worry
is crystal stark
Tomorrow's looming
in the dark

Can't Sleep, Can't Sleep
Can't Sleep, Can't Sleep

Body tense
Alien stress
The more I fret
the less I rest

Quicksand pull
to breaking day
feels far away

Can't Sleep, Can't Sleep
Can't Sleep, Can't Sleep

Can't be forced
Tricks don't help
Clock is blinking
on the shelf

Locked in conscious
Chained to myself
Feel like a snail
without a shell

Can't Sleep, Can't Sleep
Can't Sleep, Can't Sleep

Brain is Burning
I won't get sleep
Morning crashes
into me
Track Name: Burn it Down
The voices on the radio
shot a bullet in my head
I fell asleep, and saw a light
that turned from white to red

The light revealed pigs in suits
with wallets full of keys
They fenced me in, and locked the gate
and said that I was free

The light beamed through the mirror
where the pigs collect our brains
I opened my mouth, and the voices spoke
and the words they used were flames

I awoke, and the voices spoke
of a country being drowned
A phrase embedded in my head
like a tattoo made of sound

Burn it Down

Burn it Down

Burn it Down

A book of matches as a bible
and a can of gasoline
Land of chains, or a cleansing fire
there is no in-between

Burn it Down

Burn it Down

Burn it Down
Track Name: Techno-Slaves
Space is filling
with magnet waves
tethered all together
they're the techno-slaves

The brain is a mega-phone
they can't turn off
They all pour it out, and eat it up
from one big trough

Throats are choked, wireless collars
they dangle on the line
The camera's eye is winking
it is focused all the time

They move around each other
on themselves their lights are shone
a million mouths without an ear
they drift along alone

Each click a trick, each stroke a lash
they're counting every hit
They love to like, and publicize
their techno-deviance

The space is the master
the faces are the slaves
They'll scroll six feet down
into their graves

The techno-slaves gather
when one of them dies,
they emote through the shadows
that are embedded in time
Track Name: Filthy
I'm filthy
I said filthy
I'm filthy
So filthy

Hygiene's for those
Rich Folk
Prefer to be greasy
like a bicycle spoke

I'm filthy

Walkin down the street
in crusted clothes
Couldn't clean me up
with a fire hose

Smile at women
they avoid my gaze
I haven't bathed
in a thousand days

I'm filthy
So filthy

Hygiene's for those
Rich Folk
Prefer to be greasy
like a bicycle spoke

I'm filthy
So filthy

Used to have a house
Used to have a job
Jokers always yakkin at me
"Don't be a slob"

Live in a land-fill
Sleep in a trash-can
Not 'cause I have to
Just 'cause I can, man!

I'm filthy
So filthy

Hygiene's for those
Rich Folk
Prefer to be greasy
like a bicycle spoke

I'm filthy
So filthy
I'm really, really filthy
Track Name: Some Folks
Some Folks
Aint right
All they want to do
is fight

Some Folks
Ain't Right
Its all the do
all day and night

Some Folks
Ain't Right
Gnash their teeth
by firelight

Some Folks
Ain't Right
They're just a big
malignant blight

Some Folks
Some Folks
Some Folks
Some Folks

Everything they think is trite
Everything is black and white
They don't know how to fly a kite
Their brains are dim, their eyes are bright
They fill their freezers up with spite
Their eyes have dollar signs for sight

Some Folks
Ain't Right
Could they make
their brains take flight?

Some Folks
Ain't Right
Probably won't
but maybe they might
Track Name: Inmate 227
A man is released from prison. He steps through the large iron prison gate, and in the blink of an eye he's transformed from Inmate number 227 into a Free Man. This is the first time he's been a Free Man in 15 years. Parked on the other side of the road is Lilly. Lilly wrote letters to Inmate 227 and had visited him two times every month. She greets him with a wet kiss, and a warm hug, and they speed to her apartment, and the Free Man has the first cold beer and earthly pleasure he's had in 15 years.

Its two months later and Inmate 227 has gone from being Inmate 227 to a Free Man to Lou. Lou lives with Lilly in a tiny, cinderblock apartment, and works at the gas station. Lou shaves, and puts on a tie, Lilly wears her grandmother's pearls, and they go out for a steak dinner every other Tuesday night.They didn't serve steak in prison, and Inmate 227 dreamed about the taste for 15 years. That first Tuesday night the Free Man savored every bite, but Lou gulps it down and doesn't even notice.

Lilly sits across from Lou talking about her day, and Lou can't seem to muster the same interest that Inmate 227 had when the same words were spoken through the red telephone in the prison visitor booth. Lou sits and stares out the window just like Inmate 227 did and wonders if he ever was a Free Man. Lou flirts with the idea of burning down Lilly's apartment, but doesn't go through with it. Instead, he spends the next 15 years wishing he'd spent the last 15 years as Inmate 227.
Track Name: Smiling Samuel
Smiling Samuel's a company man
Employee of the month last year
His smile masks an empty space
Desert winds blow from ear to ear

Samuel gets up early for work
Three flat eggs on a concrete plate
He puts on another identical shirt
The company smile is fixed to his face

In Samuel's skull is a black computer
Its a decade out of date
A circuit's shorting out his thoughts
Smiling Samuel's full of hate

Crooked Masquerades as Straight,
Smiling Samuel's full of Hate
Crooked Masquerades as Straight,
Smiling Samuel's full of Hate

Samuel's job is priceless glass
shattered by the man in the pyramid hat
The company shift sets Samuel adrift
The planet he orbits is driven flat

Perception cracks around the edges
Samuel's hands are bound in fists
Hard-shell crabs in shrinking space
The pyramid man has lizard lips

Samuel's skin has thinned within
Earthworms ooze from surface earth
His grin is grinding like a vice
Teeth tight dam about to burst

Crooked Masquerades as Straight,
Smiling Samuel's full of Hate
Crooked Masquerades as Straight,
Smiling Samuel's full of Hate

Throbbing, strobing siren buzz
Shotgun visions of choking throats
Blood is leaking from his gums
His smile now is an angry ghost

Crooked Masquerades as Straight,
Smiling Samuel's full of Hate
Track Name: The Fat Man
The Fat Man sits in an iron tub
sucking the skin from chicken breasts
He owns a thousand decks of cards
Keeps the kings and throws out the rest

He's The Fat Man, and he's hungry
his circus has three rings
A sucker's born a marionette
His hands are full of strings

His heart is dense like wet cement
His glass is full of peoples' tears
His children are all cannibals
His seed is greed, and fear

Beside his tub is a metal box
locked without a key
He keeps a rose garden trapped inside
in case the moon plunges into the sea
Track Name: I'm Afraid
Spent three days
lost in a cave
No way out
No way out

Candle burns slow
its getting low
Its about to die
Its about to die

Animal sounds
all over the ground
What do they want?
What do they want?

I smell mold
the air is cold
Water is dripping
Water is dripping

My pulse is quick
I feel sick
I'm Afraid
I'm Afraid

Flame goes out
I stifle a shout
I can't see
I can't
Track Name: Box Head Space
Bugs crawl
across me
while I'm

I wonder if they
go in my mouth

I sleep in hard glass
I wake up and
look around

Box Head Space
Box Head Space

I stared at my
I saw it staring back
My face was mirrored
in my eyes
in the center where its black

Where'd that one big bug go that I saw?
I think maybe it crawled into my brain...

Box Head Space
Box Head Space
Head Space
Box Head
Box Head Space
box head space
Track Name: Tornado of Stasis
In a room with a lamp
sits a man and a rat
He eats with a spoon
and strikes with a bat
and the rat's on his back
and the door's slightly cracked
and the light shining in is yellow

He keeps all he knows
in black plastic bags
and the floor is a carpet
of ego-soaked rags
and just out of sight
the world spins and it brags
of life and of light
and tracking with tags
while he plants metal spikes
and he waits

Inside the box
the weather is strange
The winds carry razors
to cut off the change
He reads to the rat
from a book with no pages
The walls meet at angles
forming comfortable cages
A tornado of stasis
spins gears into place
While the lamp on the desk
rages and shakes
but never too far from the outlet

The ceiling is aglow
from the bright plastic stars
The man and the rat
fall asleep playing cards
The oceans are rising
The sun has gone down
Clouds turn to mist
as they're driven aground
And the tornado orbits
its way back around
A planet without a rotation
Track Name: Funnel Head
time stretch drain
self eating brain

fly hit glass
now later past

the funnel is hollow
fat fires follow

tin foil teeth scrape sparks on funnel head trapped in terror corner of the skull box filled to burst by a mirrored behemoth sick and slick from its own fluids it squirms in desperate hunger vaccuum and funnel head has no food

reality stutter
spill shadow in gutter

hard shell crab
sharp thought stab

feed think wave
to tar pit crave

time stretch drain
self eating brain

hemispheres deflate collapse together claw and bite for attention while tension twist headache water fills the space funnel head pounds on red rust until teeth crack sharp and shatter

self wire trip
banana peel slip

thread heavy dangle
contortion angle

funnel head hand gun
meteor crash in sun
Track Name: Blank Pavement
Blank Pavement, Black Pavement
Blank Pavement, Black Pavement