Mary Birdsong

February18th

It’s the height of pilot season here in L.A., and I can feeeeel the collective pain of my brethren and my…. sistren…. actors. Even the agents and the managers and the casting directors are giving off pheromonic stress-vibes.  The whole town right now is like one big hung-over college student cramming for an exam- leaving us all sleep-deprived for about three months straight, but convinced that if we pass that final, we WILL get laid.  To all of those people in L.A., and New York, and, hell, to anyone anywhere who has ever hustled the good hustle and called it “work,” (or  far worse- called it “art”) ; to all of us who (and we know who we are) have described projects and performances as “genius” or “hilarious” so many times that those words have lost all meaning…

This song is for you.  So grab a box of donuts, curl up in the fetal position, and sing along.  Let the lyrics be a soothing balm for our bruised egos, our well-earned ulcers, and our “testing on Tuesday”  testes.   Whether you will have won or lost… that remains to be seen.  In the mean time, give yourself a harmless, homo-erotic “baseball” pat on the butt.  For what?  For playing the game. That’s what.  You played.   YOU G.D. PLAYED!!!!  YOU PLAYED THE GAME!

Now go take your performance-enhancing drugs, get out on that field, and BUNT!  Bunt likes you’ve never bunted before you genius mother****ers!

Greg "The Great Greg-ini" Talenfeld: Great guitarist.  Great guy. (So-so at table tennis.)

Greg “The Great Greg-ini” Talenfeld:
Great guitarist. Great guy. (So-so at table tennis.)

And this isn't even my GOOD side. (I purposely make photographers shoot my bad side so as not to intimidate the others.

And this isn’t even my GOOD side. (I purposely make photographers shoot my bad side so as not to intimidate the others.

AT LEAST WE GOT INTO THE GAME

by

CottonHead

© early mid-90s

we didn’t sell no records
no albums or singles
no internet jingles to which we’d aspired 

we didn’t have no contacts,  no interest , no contracts but at least we got into the game at least we got into the game 

we didn’t set no records for homers or singles; 

no pill-popping jingles to which we’d aspired 

we didn’t hold no records for keepin’ our shit together 

but at least we got into the game but at least we got into the game

play the game it’s all you can ask
play the game until you collapse
we played with the best
we won some we lost some i guess

but at least we got into the game
at least we got into the game
thank the lord we got to play the game

but the bar is all ears as they cling to their beers
we didn’t sell no t-shirts no slick action figures
ain’t got girlish figures like those you’d admire
we didn’t leave no lovers no magazine covers

play the game it’s all you can ask
play the game until you collapse
we played with the best
we won some we lost some i guess 

Occasionally if one plays the game, no matter how well, one still runs the risk of getting "benched." (from L to R: NYC band CottonHead- Greg Talenfeld, Jeremy Chatzky, Mary Birdsong, Kirsten Jansen, & Joe Mendelson.

Occasionally if one plays the game, no matter how well, one still runs the risk of getting “benched.” (from L to R) NYC band CottonHead- Greg Talenfeld, Jeremy Chatzky, Mary Birdsong, Kirsten Jansen, & Joe Mendelson.

“At Least We Got Into the Game” was recorded live by Cottonhead in New York City at Fez of The Bottom Line.  We can’t remember which.  Lyrics by Greg Talenfeld and Mary Birdsong, music by Greg Talenfeld. Jeremy Chatzky on bass;  Joe Mendelson on piano; Kirsten Jansen on drums; Greg Talenfeld on guitar: Mary Birdsong, vocals.  You can hear more Cottonhead music and purchase albums on iTunes.

 

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