Urbanized New Wave Texican

by Buenos Diaz

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about

“alligator cowboy rock and roll"

credits

released October 10, 2015

Urbanized New Wave Texican

1. Mi Corazon Muerto
2. The Chaka
3. Concrete Hell
4. Ma Blond
5. Love Insanity
6. Sophisticated Gentleman
7. Faces

Nick Diaz - Guitars/Vocals
Mike St. Clair - Bass/Keyboards/Horns
Matt Johnson - Drums/Percussion
Barry Seelen - Organ
Steven Collins - Keyboard

Recorded by Steven Collins
The Troubadour Studio, Lockhart, TX
Mixed by Nick Diaz
La Casa Studios, Austin, TX
Mastered by Kevin Blackler
Blackler Mastering Brooklyn, NY

All songs written, arranged, produced by Nick Diaz
Weird Old American Music ASCAP

Photos by Kate Marie Hellenbeck
khelleboo@yahoo.com

Layout by Elissa Marie

All Rights Reserved 2015

www.buenosdiazmusic.com
twitter.com/buenosdiazmusic
youtube.com/buenosdiazmusic
facebook.com/buenosdiazmusic

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about

Buenos Diaz Austin, Texas

Buenos Diaz is the musical alter ego of Houston, TX native Nick Diaz, an “alligator cowboy rock and roller” who comes off as a little Elvis Costello, a little Jon Spencer Blues Explosion.

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Track Name: The Chaka
Chaka, let's all do the Chaka
Chaka, let's all do the Chaka
Anyway you want it Chaka Chaka all night long

Chaka, let's all do the Chaka
Chaka, let's all do the Chaka
Anyway you want it Chaka Chaka all night long

They're doing the Chaka in Austin
They're doing the Chaka in New Orleans
They're doing the Chaka in Houston
Everybody's doing the Chaka

Chaka, let's all do the Chaka

They're doing the Chaka down the river
They're doing the Chaka downtown
They're doing the Chaka to this song
Everybody's doing the Chaka

Chaka, let's all do the Chaka
Track Name: Concrete Hell
put a drum in your face
a T tuba in your head
with a trombone in your mouth head towards the south

boxing gloves never made love
like a fiddle playing saddle blazing dove
push the buttons over your ears
leaving room for nothing but rubber bands in your hands

look out the window we're in a concrete hell a concrete hell

tambourine pillows plug up the holes in the wall
and it's better than the putty they sell at the mall
uh huh i still go to the mall
wrap a cord around your neck!
starfish trouble is doubled when xylephone sticks fly
... through ... the ... air you pipe head!
jump out the window we're in a concrete hell a concrete hell

you could call this gong nose pros
throw peaches in the air
and watch lightning strike my mad scientist hair
improvising's nirvana you dapper alligator cowboy rock & roller
you rock & roller
break the window we're in a concrete hell a concrete hell

a concrete hell
a concrete hell
Track Name: Ma Blond
We met at a friendly bar on 6th street
I got off the stage she asked me had she taken my seat

Ma blond is my girlfriend
Ma blond is my girlfriend
Ma blond is my girlfriend

Ma blond is my girlfriend
I said no I’m alone
she said if so come sit in my lap
We had a few drinks and then we kissed
right after that

Ma blond is my girlfriend
Ma blond is my girlfriend
Ma blond is my girlfriend
Ma blond is my girlfriend

She invited me up to her room for a beer and a chat
A few more things might’ve happened I’m still lost in her grasp

Ma blond is my girlfriend
Ma blond is my girlfriend
Ma blond is my girlfriend
Ma blond is my girlfriend

Ma blond
Ma blond
Ma blond
Ma blond
Track Name: Love Insanity
she took me for my first
christened me in a field of blue bonnets
a Texas baptism in the most outrageous of churches they’re all outrageous though,
those soul saving corporate
pope castles
my church is the sky of rainbows flooding the earth after a post apocalyptic meltdown
of love insanity

we embraced insanity
and made love to each other
through stories of sharks, dreams,
people, and pie
sweet apple pie, the kind you’d find in a ginger bread house only the wicked witch would ever feed you
after she stole your soul, locked it in a box
and tossed the key down her elizabethan bosom
this is the church in the sky of rainbows flooding the earth after a post apocalyptic meltdown
of love insanity

this story will be televised, interrupted, deconstructed, and hypothesized
in red lights, feathers, words of wisdom, technology, biology, and artistic creativity
this is the book of soul
this is my church in the sky of rainbows flooding the earth after a post apocalyptic meltdown of love insanity
Track Name: Sophisticated Gentleman
Why can’t i be stoned
chasing dots in the back of my head
it’s a careless world
and I'm fighting for nothing but my own self destruction

Why can’t i be drunk
scribbling poetry lines that don’t make any sense
lighting cigarettes with style reserved for the most
sophisticated of gentleman

Why can’t i be a sycophant,
playing music suits me, can't you see my genius?
nice tie, nice car,
hey you, you’re pretty nice

Why can’t i be the underground sensation
that bursts onto the mainstream
i’ve been waiting, waiting, waiting,
i want my picture to be taken

why can’t i be these things
why? why can’t I?
why can’t i be these things?
why can’t i be these things?
Track Name: Faces
i bide my time in old places
with pretty faces
it's never the same
except for the changing spaces

i've got one little suitcase just enough to finish the race

i grew up with big city dazes
across different faces
i feel insanely lonely
i still live with the traces

i've got one little suitcase is it enough to finish the race

my life is empty in phases
but surrounded by faces
happy, sad, jovial, rounded lovely faces