We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

The Real Giving Up

by Spelling Reform

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $9 USD  or more

     

  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Spelling Reform's first-ever vinyl. Mastered for vinyl by Cody Cichowski at Milkboy The Studio. Features a sweet insert with a full lyric sheet.

    Includes unlimited streaming of The Real Giving Up via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days
    edition of 50 

      $20 USD or more 

     

  • Full Digital Discography

    Get all 6 Spelling Reform releases available on Bandcamp and save 30%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of The Real Giving Up, Somewhere Back There [single], Stay Inside, Latitude, No One's Ever Changed, and Diving Bell. , and , .

    Purchasable with gift card

      $26.60 USD (30% OFF)

     

1.
The Naming of the Things has passed and I can’t even remember which ones you liked best. I look around for another line to lift. Have so much — have nothing left. I relax and talk nice to myself. So I ran through the screen door — I don’t have to put myself through hell. And my microbiome might be broken, but all I want is for someone to say, “I'm interested. I'm interested. I'm interested.” I’m making an assumption that everyone dislikes me before we have met. I look around for a sign already lit. Who could care enough to make sense of this? I relax and talk nice to myself. So I said every wrong thing — I don’t have to put myself through hell. And me versus the world’s almost over, and all I want is for someone to say, “I'm interested. I'm interested. I'm interested.” I relax and talk nice to myself. So I became boring — I don’t have to put myself through hell. And I’m at the bottom crushed and broken, but all I want is for someone to say, “I'm interested. I'm interested. I'm interested.”
2.
Make me into something new — like I’ve forgotten how to breathe. Though it’s not the only thing that’s wrong, it seems like a fine place to start to me. When you’re done, meet me in the atmosphere, where just that small sad part of me is broken up in a way so I can stay with you even after I leave.
3.
I’m coming for that invisible hand that I thought I knew so well back then when I flit around like a light and absorbed. Wasn’t everything great till it wasn’t anymore? And how could you know that I was never new? And I cared about you even when you told me to crawl into a hole and die. Looking back, that might have been a good plan. And so I have changed. Is that such a surprise? You’re still showered in light. At least something is right. While I fumble through quite a miserable dare in a cold quiet room that’d be sad if I cared. And how could I know that you wanted me to see that you cared about me even though I told you to figure out how you could go to hell? So I guess I’ll be joining you below.
4.
Did I get too far from the feeling I love? You would think it’s a much duller world — you’d be wrong. Did I get a taste of the real giving up? Though it sounds like a bore, sitting out’s about all that it’s made out to me. You’ve done all that you can — I commend it. But I’m not brave enough to follow you through this world. I’m told to hold on to the light like it’s ending. But I’m not bright enough to want to change. Charter a course for that long slow fade. I have felt everything — I have had my say. And now I hold close to a story I tell about how, when I try, I still don’t become what I had set out to be. You’ve done all that you can — I commend it. But I’m not brave enough to follow you through this world. And I won’t remember this just like it happened. And I’m not bright enough to want to change. Charter a long slow fade. You’ve done all that you can — I commend it. But I’m not brave enough to follow you through this world. I followed a thought until it pulled me under. And I’m not bright enough to want to change.
5.
Some Get Out 05:10
He's not gonna make it out. Hands and feet inside like a fly caught in a window on the way to gone. Quiet for an ember. Stay inside forever. Somewhere there was moonlight — now altogether gone. Some get out, and some get out alone. Some get out, and some get out alone. You begin to feel the end is on. Some get out, and some get out alone. He's not gonna make it out. Cycling reactor: You keep it together when everyone is gone. Feet upon the fault line. Crash into forever. Drip off the horizon. Now altogether gone.
6.
I hopped aboard that lonesome train that carried me from butte to home. Some heavy pack I claimed as mine, and some I hid and left behind. Now I'm spent in every way, and every year is speeding on. Is there some other side where I get to resupply? Make the road a little longer so that I can get in time with you. Signal to the rescue party that they can delay a day or two. ’Cause all of me is on some brink that’s making some sweet call to me. But as tired as I may be, I should feel and I should think. Make the road a little longer so that I can spend more time with you. Signal to the rescue party that they can delay a day or two. ’Cause all of me is on some brink that’s making some sweet call to me. So I don’t feel and I don’t think. I reimagine you and me.
7.
Just Like Me 04:08
We should leave before the panic sets in. And then we can live in each other’s pockets. The gas station attendant was the only one we let in on our little secret. It’s just like me to break off from the one thing that’s not falling apart. It’s just like me to give up. It’s just like me to wait for something that won’t come about. It was getting hard to hold on. Is this what it’s like when everything just fits? As if it won’t ever get better than this? What do I believe in? Clearly not what anyone would say is worth it.
8.
With the market forces all on our side, you’re holding court touting the right lines. We’re a long way from home, burning bridges long gone. Goodbye, chambray blue. I’d been holding out for somebody like you to come along. How you’re underrated, how you’re underrated, how. How you’re underrated, how you’re underrated, how. How you’re underrated, how. Hot and hard-headed you walk by with my hopes under your jawline. I am all in for you if you tell me exactly what to do. You’re taking me behind the scenes for the clandestine view.
9.
Here it comes — one more excuse to poison my system. Soon enough, I’ll piss off good night and sleep off an empty notebook. There’s severance agreements and calendar tricks, then I’ll shuffle off this mortal coil. And the sun won’t rise when the moon is high, and it still will be night for long. And, oh, when I break down all my cells line up, and then my brain spills out on the floor. I know I’m not working that hard because I am not a part of it. I was once a part of it. Oh, I liked it when you called my name. It felt something heavy, but I liked feeling nothing more. I remember moving in a room with you and thinking about it for too long. So I turned off. Here he comes — the static arranger gathering dust. So pull up and witness the spectacle of giving up. I’m out in the wilderness pretending it’s just another day taken off. But the grandstand’s wide at the county fair and the band’s set up but there’s no one around to care. When my world gets this small I begin to unfold in spectacular fashion. I know I’m not working that hard because I am not a part of it. Was I once a part of it?

about

Maximalist Spelling Reform. That's The Real Giving Up, the Philly indie rock band's first full-length record since 2019's Stay Inside.

Painfully culled from the 27 songs that lead singer and songwriter Dan Wisniewski wrung out of his widow's-peaked noggin during the pandemic, The Real Giving Up's 35 minutes simmer and reflect on a very 2020/2021 headspace. Starring: depression, anxiety, desperation, clutter, profundity, an occasional odd sense of clarity. Also: loud.

A great-big collection of warm electric pianos, warm slide guitars and whoa-frigid analog synths piled high atop the band's careful arrangements suit these nine tunes just fine. Boring moments? Probably (maybe?) none.

The title track absorbs carefully placed synth after carefully placed synth amid its midtempo-sway acknowledging the futility of change ("I'm not brave enough to follow you through this world"). "I'm Interested" zwings up and down and all around, a veritable "you're not looking!" in open A amid well-loved arpeggios and the only song this year you'll hear namedropping "my microbiome." And "Just Like Me" dirges with the best, self-propelled brutality amid self-effacing honesty: "It's just like me to give up."

Quiet stuff? Yessir. First-ever-for-the-band solo acoustic number "Make the Road a Little Longer" offers a quiet and calming yet ultra-clammy hand in so-weird-it-works Celtic tuning: "Signal to the rescue party that they can delay a day or two." And "Poison My System" sends us all home with those pretty-but-unsettling vibes Gen Z is on about: "When my world gets this small I begin to unfold in spectacular fashion."

It's late-30-somethings making a big record because there’s no reason not to. Those late-30-somethings: Mark Rybaltowski hits every drum exactly right. (Also: a tambourine.) Tom Howley lays it low on the bass and also hits those sky-high backing vox (more prevalent than ever). Jim Gannon's careful touch on the keys and melodic sense is envied by all. Dan Wisniewski does the words (the good and the other ones) and the chords (the cool and the normal ones) and the singing (mainly the reedy bits).

Recorded at The Headroom with Kyle Pulley and mixed and mastered at Milkboy The Studio with Cody Cichowski, both geniuses of their time, which is this time.

RIYL: The Weakerthans, The Mountain Goats, Wilco, The New Pornographers, confusing your parents, hiding from your co-workers, eating too many mints, avoiding confrontation, being obnoxious unironically.

credits

released October 20, 2023

Spelling Reform is:
Jim Gannon: keyboards, piano, synthesizers
Tom Howley: bass, backing vocals
Mark Rybaltowski: drums, percussion
Dan Wisniewski: lead vocals, acoustic and electric guitars, keyboards, synthesizers, banjo, percussion

All songs written by Dan Wisniewski. Arranged and performed by Spelling Reform. © 2023 Spelling Reform.

Recorded at Headroom Studios. Tracking engineered by Kyle Pulley at Headroom Studios, Philadelphia (www.headroom.studio). Assisted by Isaac Shalit and Christo Johnson, and Nkozi Cole. Additional recording completed at Sunnyside Studio, East Side Studio and Milkboy The Studio. Mixed and mastered by Cody Cichowski at Milkboy The Studio.

Photographs by Dan Wisniewski. Artwork and graphic design by Dan Dinsmore.

Special thanks to Karrin, Liz and Liz; Kirsten Randle for lending me her Nord; Mark Wisniewski for lending me his drum mics (more than a decade ago); and Jim Gannon for lending me his Moog and his fancy guitar.

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Spelling Reform Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Nasal indie rock, stutter-stop power pop, pleasantly bent indie pop.

New LP "The Real Giving Up" out now.

contact / help

Contact Spelling Reform

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this album or account

Spelling Reform recommends:

If you like Spelling Reform, you may also like: