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It Can Always Get Worse

by Jimbo Pap

  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Deluxe single-LP 12" vinyl record in a gatefold jacket, poly-lined inner sleeve with lyrics and liner notes (lyric sheet only available in this format). Cut at half-speed by Peter Hewitt-Dutton, and pressed at Hand Drawn Records in Dallas, TX. Classic black vinyl for high fidelity.

    Includes unlimited streaming of It Can Always Get Worse via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 2 days
    edition of 500 
    Purchasable with gift card

      $14.50 USD or more 


  • Streaming + Download

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

      $10.50 USD  or more


We put our pants on one leg at a time Just like every other fucker who wants to be Gram Parsons in Los Angeles Oh rhinestones are a thing of beauty but we don’t have cash for Nudie Forget about Manuel So send us back to the thrift stores again We’re Jimbo Pap and you could call us a band But it’s a shell corporation Roots rock re-imagination or a standard derivation Just like every other fucker with a microphone, oh we’re so alone Looking for a new friend or two To help us make it through The news cycle that’s sucking out our will to live we’ve only got these songs to give so we humbly submit them to you.
Headed out to Phoenix. Driving all day. With a true love there beside me to see a band from Memphis play. It was Phoenix where she’d grown up and how the summers burned I could see her youth and beauty and hard lessons learned We rolled up to the house where she’d slept so many years Met three generations of her family. Didn’t find a single thing to fear. Held her close at Crescent Ballroom. It was Valentine’s Day. As the ecstasy kicked in the band began to play. Felt so proud to stand beside her. Wished we’d never have to go. Took her picture with the singer outside after the show. At her sweet sister’s apartment I could see she was afraid As the tears filled up her eyes I learned my faith had been misplaced. That was one thing that I did not see coming till it buried me alive. That road trip was just a long kiss goodbye. Another reason to cry. Well I’ve been shown that long kiss goodbye by a few women before It’s a cruel form of kindness when she don’t know how to say That she knows she’s leaving something good. Just not good enough to stay. It was a long drive back across the desert. She requested “no sad songs.” But she could not keep from crying. I just focused on the long road. We both knew this was the comedown. Nothing’s ever what it seems. Stopped for ice cream, it tasted so cool. It still melted like our dream. I sit alone in my apartment. Hard steel above my knees. Now there ain’t much left but memories and nights like these.
Self-esteem’s a trick but I’d really like to trip you up and take you out. I know confidence is king but I always feel beheaded when you are around. I can’t imagine talking you into a string of pearls. Much less giving up some autonomy to be my girl. I can hold you for a night but I understand it’s cool to keep things light. Still my heart starts making plans when I think of things I’d show you if we had the time. I can hold you in my arms and that could last all night. But I really want to count on holding you next July.
Yard Sale 02:53
Baby, let’s have a yard sale. Honey let’s have a yard sale. You need the space and I need the cash, so baby let’s have a yard sale. Tchotchkes, knick-knacks and busted guitars, we don’t need one of these things. All I want is your sweet love and a tiny little diamond ring. You need the space. I need the cash. What was our treasure, now it’s our trash. I placed a local classified. The coffee maker’s kicked in gear. I made some signs and hung them up to help the long-haired freaky people find us here. So come on. Come on. There ain’t a thing could go wrong. Darlin’ let’s have a yard sale. I need the cash, and you need the space. So goodbye table, goodbye hideous vase. Cheap sunglasses and skin magazines, no it doesn’t have to sting. So roll these quarters, I’ll pack this pipe. Hope the early birds buy everything.
There’s not a whole lot to keep you busy in a dusty Nevada town. But it gives a man a chance to breathe and his mind can then slow down. You can’t blame it on the bottle when it happens either way That the wallet phone and keys routine gets too much for the front of our brains To fight the menace of distraction, strategies we learn so well. But I’ve seen all my best intentions pave a road to some fresh hell. Life keeps moving. I watch the clouds pass through the sky. Another ticket on the windshield. Another bill that’ll pass me by. My friends all think it’s funny. They give a wink and a friendly shove. It doesn’t feel good losing money or the trust of the ones you love. Would you trust in a forgetful and genuine friend? I don’t think so. Though it might work out fine ninety-nine times, you’re bound to learn. Just like the friends I used to know.
They say you’ve got to follow your heart. Mine always leads itself to breaking. I always tear myself apart for all the wrong roads that I’ve taken but I know that someday someone is gonna love me again. So I hang with the lonely hearts in the unhealthiest environments. And I listen to all of their talk about their entitled requirements. “He’ll have a fat bank account and a vintage car that turns people’s heads” “She’ll be an artist with slim hips and she’ll never let me get out of bed.” Now my bank account’s dwindling down buying pretty people round after round At these godforsaken dead-end bumbled dates all over town. So don’t tell me that somewhere ‘round some corner she’ll be right there just waiting for me I know she could be right here but I’m too blind to see. They say you’ve got to follow your dreams. Mine always lead me right back here again. When I’m tired of my own schemes I know my friends will be there like I am for them. That’s why I know that someday someone is gonna love me again. It’s how I know that someday someone is gonna love me again.


Jimbo Pap
“It Can Always Get Worse”
Recorded throughout 2018
Produced by all involved.

Cover star: Nesema Lee
(Maternal Great Grandmother of Jim Bowers)
Cover photo taken by “Crazy Uncle Robert” Lee, 1984, 35mm b/w.


released September 13, 2019

Engineered by Be Hussey
Assistant Engineers:
Cal Campbell
David Tobocman
Recorded at Comp-ny, Glendale CA
add’l recording (A3) at Rancho Neosho, Culver City, CA
Mastered by Jeff Lipton and Maria Rice at Peerless, Boston MA

2019 Fiesta Red Records FR-013


all rights reserved



Jimbo Pap Los Angeles, California

Jimbo Pap is a band of friends formed by Jim Bowers, Bo Brannen, Pap Shirock, and Cal Campbell, and includes Kaitlin Wolfberg.

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