by Tom Csatari

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TM01 ©2014

Uncivilized is a recording of original songscapes by American guitarist and composer Tom Csatari (pronounced chuh-tar-ee).

“As we broke for lunch midway through the session, the thirteen of us returned to the living-room-studio soaking wet, and the remainder of the day found everyone borrowing what dry clothes we found in the rooms. You must remember how it was raining.” - Levon Henry, 2014


released December 9, 2014

Kyle Wilson — tenor sax
Ben Flocks — tenor sax
Levon Henry — bass clarinet, clarinet, alto sax
Tristan Cooley — flute
Adriel Williams — violin
Nick Jozwiak — cello
Mathieu Rousseau — double bass
Nick Jost — double bass
Eric Read — percussion
Rachel Housle — percussion
Dominic Mekky — keyboard, sound design
Tom Csatari — electric guitar, effects, slide guitar
Ross Gallagher — double bass (tracks 5, 11)

Recorded live by Julian Cubillos at 77 Linden Blvd. in Flatbush, Brooklyn on May 10th, 2014.

Mixed by Julian Cubillos and Tom Csatari in locations across greater New York City and beyond.

Mastered by KRAMER at Noise Miami.

Album cover by Joseph Csatari [watercolor on paper].

Digital liner notes by Levon Henry [click lyrics above to display].

Released by Tiny Montgomery (www.tinymontgomery.net). All songs composed, arranged and orchestrated by Tom Csatari ©2014 (www.tomcsatari.com).


tags: New York


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Tiny Montgomery New York, New York

Logo by Cécile McLorin Salvant.

Logo type by Joanna Sternberg.

Tiny Montgomery is a New York-based record label, with a boundless embracement of music, un-beholden to any particular genre, scene or trend. Gram Parsons coined the term “Cosmic American Music” and we dig that too.
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Track Name: Trauma Dogs
Be sure to let the molten piles cool off a little first; drop the proverbial needle but then be ready to catch whatever flakes off as the train goes whistling past. That little bird is flitting about your ear again, but don’t worry, he’s a welcome distraction. We all know that train to be taking somebody away.
Track Name: Yams
It was all very mysterious at first, as Thursday nights usually are: you’re looking around waiting for something to happen and then all of a sudden Bradford Cox turns around and challenges Charles Mingus to a game of table tennis. A risky decision, if I say so myself. That stuffed moose up there on the wall wasn’t just lying around the salvation army; it’s one of Charles’, and so of course he’s the last man standing.
Track Name: Re: Memory
The blue dive down with sparks extended into full thread and you’re up and you’re dancing and you’re thinking about all those hills and fields and also trying to remember where you parked the dang RV because it’s getting late and oh yes America must explode gloriously before it cools down.
Track Name: Fahey
No longer must we be relegated to dreaming of John Fahey with the sea behind him ignoring all his instructions. Muted and proud the clouds roll in. It is not great beach weather unfortunately, as Ben Flocks and Kyle Wilson share the only surfboard in town, but they seem to enjoy each other’s company, as they are both fascinated by completely different waves than the other.
Track Name: Wooden Submarines
If they wanted the crew to live, they wouldn’t have used wood. If their only concern was its rising up again, then I suppose they did a decent job. But it sounds to me like they just spent too much time partying and neglecting their studies. The nautical arts: not for amateurs!
Track Name: Party Boats!
The single lamp brings the focus upon their hands, bare wrists for they have rolled their sleeves. All attitudes of face or night or place have gone, except the cards they hold and the bets that have been placed. Though, from that little, one can know everything about a man, and to which side a night will pan.
Track Name: ROWLINGS
No I don’t really want to stand here changing the fan belt and handing out moist Towelettes while watching him talk to her, and then her talk to him, and he back to her again. Now, the fan belt I can take care of in my sleep… but when I close my eyes, it’s the Towelettes that all of a sudden become much more complicated.
Track Name: Pale Rider
Sleep. Ride. Sleep. Cow crossing. Ride some more. Get sunburned. Try to eat a cactus. Be unsuccessful at that. Look for water. Stay confident. Ignore the wolves. They will eventually go away as the moon whitens into the sky (these early summer hours), and you are like the young child put to bed right after dinner while the world is still awake. And you learn you can dissolve long before it is ever night.
Track Name: Cowbird
Tom told me once to be wary of Cowbirds because they eat the eggs of other birds. That they are vicious. And sometimes I think I can hear them gathering at the window casings. But it is always just the wind or the encyclopedia salesman and I am free to go back to ordinary troubles.
Track Name: Glass Parachutes
Don’t look too quickly, for when the complete image finally appears, there is little that words can do to help you back down, and the last thing you are concerned with is whether or not they are - at the end - broken.
Track Name: Sherwood (feat. Ross Gallagher)
For the whole adventure, you can’t keep from thinking how much easier it would be if you were over water like you were before. Then there wouldn’t be all these branches in the way and nobody would realize how bad at steering you truly are. It may be a comfort, however, to remember that long after you’ve snuck away from the flaming Jeep - and lived to tell the tale - the slow vines will steal as they always have. Over tire and track alike.
Track Name: Repair
The little pieces first, in careful yet eager moves, and rapid for you’re so glad to have cause to act. Then the floor and larger frame: ask for taller men, simpler instruction, slower breath, until finally the face. And you must remember where you left it, that quickness first felt, the color of gold before the desert. The mouth before the stomach.