Y Los Lonely Hipsters


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April 12, 2016

SAN ANTONIO -- A local independent musician released his first full-length album this morning after eating huevos rancheros with corn tortillas at the Route 281 and 1604 Las Palapas.

Garrett T. Capps, a 28-year-old San Antonio native, had spent the previous three months consuming menudo exclusively, while he and his band, The Only Hipsters, recorded the nine-track L.P. entitled “Y Los Lonely Hipsters.”

“It’s good to change up the diet here and there, but I felt strongly that sticking to menudo in the studio would help us achieve the acoustic terroir we were after,” said Capps. “The Only Hipsters and I are all San Antonio guys, and I wanted the music to reflect that. Tex-Mex in the left ear and T-bone steaks in the right ear.”

With Songs like “Born in San Antone,” Capps and The Only Hipsters hope to serve up a solid portion of South Texas timbre, complete with heavy steel guitar, accordion, violin, acoustic and electric guitars, organ, bass and drums in various arrangements.

All songs on the album were written by Capps, aside from “Runnin’ Back,” a cover of Thin Lizzy’s “Running Back.” The record’s lyrics carry a working-class aesthetic, bemoaning the nine-to-five lifestyle, arguing with borrachos and reveling in road trips via Dylanesque stream of consciousness. Capps’ vocals reinforce the theme of apathetic middle-class drudgery with their rusty, yodeling sincerity, howling into the void in chorus with steel guitar.

“She Likes Doom Metal” serves as the album’s single, encapsulating the off-kilter earnestness of the record.

Though “Y Los Lonely Hipsters” marks his first full-length effort, Capps has recorded and self-released a number of E.P.s covering a wide array of genres from sludge metal to garage rock to alternative country.

As for follow-up releases, Capps assures listeners: “I have more shit on the way.”



released April 12, 2016

Produced & Recorded by Roland Delacruz
All Songs Written by Garrett T. Capps (Except for Runnin' Back, Originally Written by Phil Lynott & Performed by Thin Lizzy)
Mastered by Chris Cline
Photography by Dave Terry
Album Layout/Graphic Design by Matt Schad

Los Lonely Hipsters:
Phil Luna - Drums
odie. - Bass
Scott Lutz - Pedal Steel/Electric Guitar

Guest Musicians:
Julie Good - Vocals (Track 6)
Thomas David Dyer - Piano (Tracks 4 & 8)
Kim Mackenzie - Violin, Mandolin (Track 5)
Chris Borchers - Accordion (Track 9)




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GARRETT T. CAPPS San Antonio, Texas

Phone: 210-317-0006

Email: garrett@garretttcapps.com


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Track Name: BITCHIN'
Well my mind’s all clouded, cuz the job’s really gettin’ to my head
And they’re cutting some loose, Least that’s what the manager said
And my coworker frank told me he’d be better off dead
I told him bitchin and moanin won’t get you anywhere my friend

This 5 o clock traffic on ih 35 is unreal
there’s a cop’ writin off an old woman in an oldsmobile
And news on the radio dial makes me not want to feel
All it’s bitchin’ and a moanin’ won’t get me anywhere on these wheels

Got a call from somebody that told me I owe them some dough
And if I don’t pay it all by next month I’m gonna owe them some mo
And I ain’t seen more wealthy people at the grocery store
Yeah all their bitchin and a moanin’s gonna drive me out the door

Said a prayer last night right before I went to sleep
I do it every one a while but this time I really skipped a beat
It’s never happened before but the lord spoke right back to me
he told me bitchin’ and a moanin’s gonna get you anywhere but free
had a dollar in her wallet, a dime in her hand
black diamonds in her sockets and a clean demand
I ain't rich, but I can try to stay tan
I take risks), and I'm a genuine mayne

it's pretty plain to see
and she kinda likes me

we blew smoke in to mirrors, drank our souls outta cans
bent our spines a bit weirder, in her japanese sedan
she's too cool, but she’s gotta plan
she’ll give you time for a minute, til the shit hits the fan

it's pretty plain to see
and she kinda likes me
she likes doom metal
and she sorta likes me
Track Name: NO REASON
I been searchin, don’t know what for
Called every number, Knocked every door

Prayed in evening, Tried to be good
Don’t got no reason, probably should

I Been cussin, makin a mess
And when I’m drinkin, feelin my best

Makin decisions, that ain’t no good
Don’t got no reasons, probably should

I been diggin, diggin a hole
The devil’s callin, he wants my soul

So much for lovin, I never understood
Don’t got no reason, probably should

and you can call me crazy, call me bad
Say I’m lazy, say I’m sad

Take my honor. I knew you would
Don’t got no reason, probably should
shit haircut and I need to shave
been up that road for days
slippin’ slidin’ break that cage
Feed me lighting while I go insane
heavy load on a hellbound train
Pocket fulla rubbers on the very first date

Weird intentions bless some soul
Mexican flag on a mexican pole
Drinkin drivin highway toll
Bingo bango birth control

Bury my brains with I don’t know
screw the houston rodeo
Lost on speed then time to go
Wish I took some different road

take me home i’m seein god
grocery storin’ hippie broads
pakistani money fraud
politicians feelin’ odd
morman beauties gettin’ off
christian chicken frozen cod

Hopin’, doubtin’ dreamin far
Worn out lovers cheap cigars
killin grass and closin’ bars
No regrets with tattoo scars
Up too late to see the stars
Armageddon on the VCR
Wish I played some different cards
Michael J, Abdul jabar

different bible, roundabout age
Back in the saddle but my boots are beige
lucked up, mucked up grunge rock rage
Cornell, Cantrell, Kurt Cobain
Orange flicker on the gasoline gauge
I been up that road for days
I been up that road for days x 4
Track Name: SOME TIMES
well I heard about that pretty ring you're wearin'
and last time we talked you couldn't see my face
I meant to say "I'm sorry" - but I guess it's way too late
some times it feels like nothin' seems to change

the television's tellin' the same old stories
and the newspaper ain't on the porch no more
kinda makes me angry, but I do not know what for
some times it feels like you've opened every door

engine's hummin' as I get on up the highway
and the red and blue squeal by right with the law
next time they pull me over, I'll try not to even talk
some times it feels like they only see you fall

the river’s flowin' and it’s fightin' through the valley
and my mind it soars way past it's risin' steam
I'd like to kill off that nostalgia cuz that ache can get real mean
some times it feels like nothin's as it seems

it might feel like the end'll never get here
'till the plug gets pulled on the ones you love the most
and the truth it's has no shelter, and it's wanderin' like a ghost
some times it seems like no one ever knows
Well I collect my paycheck when the time is done
and before I know it, it’s been spent and gone
and I can barely find time to mow my own damn lawn
yeah the kid is growin, the wife is bored
tryin to plan a trip to the nearest shore
sometimes it feels like all they get is ignored
and I just got canned today
pulled me into their office and I heard them say

go off and do what you’re gonna do
(don’t come around here)
yeah we don’t got room for people like you
(don’t come around here)

and I don’t care if you’re wife gets pissed
don’t care if you can’t pay the rent
yeah, you’re never gonna come back here again
don’t come around here

I spent all my summers on my daddy’s farm
out in the fields scratchin up my arms
guess I thought I learned about workin’ hard
all the guys he hired could barely speak
but they worked their ass off 6 days a week
just like they found where they needed to be
and one July they were gone
the border man showed up and blew his alarm

go off and do what you’re gonna do
(don’t come around here)
yeah we don’t got room for people like you
(don’t come around here)

and I don’t care if your country’s shit
don’t care if you can’t feed the kids
yeah, you’re never gonna come back here again
don’t come around here

Right before it hit me in the dead of night
I was climbin’ the stairs up to heaven’s lights
and that goddamn driver drunk outta his mind

stood in line for days up at heaven’s gates
with the rich, the wise, the fed up, depraved
all just prayin’ that we’d all be saved

and when I finally saw God’s face
he looked me in the eye and said you’ve made some mistakes

go off and do what you’re gonna do
(don’t come around here)
yeah we don’t got room for people like you
(don’t come around here)

and I don’t care if the devil's sick
don’t care if you can’t make a mends
yeah, you’re never gonna come back here again
don’t come around here
I'm a fool now that it's over
Can you guess my name?
I make my money singing songs about you
It's my claim to fame

When they say it's over
It's not all over, there's still the pain

I'd come running
I'd come running back to you again
Oh I'd come running
I'd come running back to you again

If I said I was sorry
Would you still leave me?
I never thought you'd go 'till you did
Believe me

When they say it's over
It's not all over completely

'Cause I'd come running
I'd come running back to you again
Yes I'd come running
I'd come running back to you again

I miss that girl

The show is over
and we must all go home
Just leave me by myself
I'll be alright here on my own

If it's all over, it's all over
And I'm all alone

And I'd come running
I'd come running back to you again
Don't you know I'd come running
I'd come running back to you again
I was born in San Antone X2
even though I’m a pinche gringo,
I was born in San Antone

When I was younger and feelin so bold
everyone told me to never leave home
I said I’m sorry but I gotta go
but I was born in San Antone

Went to boys town, caught the donkey show
san marcos, midland, and arlington
things got real weird out in Houston
guess it's cuz I was born in San Antone

out in denver, man, they get too stoned
women in portland are just skin and bone
l.a., nashville, new york -- NO
when you were born in San Antone

jumped up to europe by way of a boat
stranded in dublin without no coat
someone asked me where’d you come from, bloak?
I’ve come from San Antone

sped right through paris, prague, and rome
drank wine till my blood boiled my bones
lost my direction, ten times alone
too far from San Antone

I found myself down a deep, dark road
empty pockets and a westbound soul
then I heard somethin on the radio
sounded like San Antone

it had deep blues roots, and a vox organ
a groovy shaker, and a tex mex tone
it sang she’s about a mover and I was gone
gone home to San Antone

we got sir Doug, Flaco, and the sunglos
butthole surfers and bongo Joe
Ozzy Osbourne pissin on the alamo

the Sex Pistols at Randy’s rodeo
Joe "the Godfather Anthony" DJ'in on the radio
Ram opened Taco Land

You might live in Leon Valley, China Grove
South Side, West side, or Olmos
Alamo Heights or Stone Oak

You might know know about Avery Johnson, George Gervin
Tim Duncan, Matt Bonner, or the Admiral
Maybe you were in the Alamo Dome for the Memorial Day Miracle

You might work at USAA and Valero
HEB, Bill Miller, Clear Channel
Frost Bank, Rackspace, Santikos

You might have danced with the devil at El Camaroncito
or maybe you personally know El Rey Feo
or maybe you've been to Hogwild and bought a Morrissey record

You might eat:
lengua, nopalitos, menudo
bacon egg cheese with some PICO
el pastor onions cilantro
over easy on huevos rancheros
carne guisada, queso fresco
Barbacoa y chicharron
cheese enchiladas w/ barracho
flauta, chalupa, special nachos
guacamole salad with my puffy tacos

Track Name: MR. PIKE
It was ten am when the foam hit the brim of the glass of his first beer
He meant to call into work that day but he didn’t get quite near
the phone he’d dropped on the side of a road the very night before
In a haze of pills, and bud light thrills that left him passed out on a stranger's floor

Now it’s hard to say how he got here, hard to say’s quite true
Told me he was born durin’ some world war to a mom he never knew
Said he grew up kinda mean, and that he ever gave two shits
As he continued his drinkin, and smokin’ a cigarette

Hey mister Pike, get out of my bar
You can stay until the lawyers come to smoke up their cigars
I laugh cuz your rediculous and borderline bizarre
Hey mister Pike, get outta my bar

he swore he once used a switchblade to sever rabid bear
when he got ditched on a campin trip by some bastards that didnt care
he was not quite yet a teen, but pretty much a man
and if there is such thing as a guy upstairs it was all part of the plan

He started yellin bout the president and how the whole damn thing's a mess
kids these days are a bunch a punks that ain’t got no common sense
Computers have fried our minds, and there’s no hope anymore
but the only thing that he still likes are the big fat-tittied whores

Hey mister Pike, get out of my bar
You can stay for a little longer, if you got cash or a credit card
I'm amused at all your stories, but your heads up in the stars
Hey mister Pike, get outta my bar

I cut him off at number 3, and his brow grew kinda wide
and he got all riled and wicked and spit in both my eyes
I grabbed his pint and with haste and might bashed it over his head
then he fell off of his bar stool, while his face grew kinda dead

then I tried to help him up and he slapped me in the face
called me a lunatic, a coward a disgrace
said he always knew I was a piece, and stumbled outta the door
and as I tried to justify myself, i yelled at him once more