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A Week or Two That Will Sorely Be Missed

by Night Windows

  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Night Windows, "A Week or Two That Will Sorely Be Missed” LP pressed on Black Vinyl.

    Includes unlimited streaming of A Week or Two That Will Sorely Be Missed via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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      $10 USD or more 


  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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      $5 USD  or more


Another coffee, this time from the cup with the Christmas tree you painted on it for me. Another new day, where redemption is within a swing’s reach. Another prayer, from my mother to her God on my behalf. Another wish, that’s rooted in the past Future plan for happiness. Another picture, a snap to gain attention, the applause of humankind Another story, one more word in the middle of a sentence you’ve been struggling with: “I’m late & keeping Working things out for myself I’m moving out and on and I need help!” With my future plan for happiness. From the earth, the flower; instead of the root Now, you curse the flower because it won’t fruit Another long night, a search party, a team to beat in extra innings Another winter, from New Jersey. Could it be the final one?
lyrics: All that squirming from your seat All the eyes that eye you up from underneath The weight of the earth & the way we’re so reckless with all things precious. Today is here A little bit warmer Getting closer; trading places. Dreaming wildly a world out of this world A world to relieve us from All that aches from in between The commute to work & the way back to the house Constant reminder We’ve been treading water in the rising tide. We wade in fear Recount our miscomings Held hostage; another year. Dreaming wildly a world out of this world A world to relieve us from all that needs to be done: Spilled the coffee in that doorway Clean it up another day The exhaust fans been broken a few years now Holding out for another house. Let someone else worry about our to-do list. We’re moving out. Today is here Clouds in the way Facing a painting; half afraid. Is there really anyone anywhere else who’d know my name? Wildly, in a world out of this world. Pretend, that there is no end Until the end.
Pretend 03:34
Tomorrow; a dream I’ve yet to sleep through Tomorrow; a play A fake, a faux transcendence Everyone I know And everyone I’ve been Spends most of their time pretending. Staring at a light blue smear on a black wall An error begging to be fixed A long hair left that the scissors missed A crossed out task, a shopping list. Everyone I know And everyone I’ve been Spends most of their time pretending. Every bit of energy You spent on sitting up straight Has now vanished Washed up & wasted Everyone I know And everyone I’ve been Spends most of their time pretending. Lean on the fragments of decay Watch the ideas dry up & leave no trace Haven’t heard her voice in weeks He hides his handsome face for fear of feeling cheap. Now, a friend you’ll meet Closer, soon you’ll feel Comfortable & wake up To face the truth in you & that will be enough For everyone you know And everyone you’ve been Who spends most of their time pretending.
Up for a breath Down on the carpet Moving in or out Different places These walls still look the way they did when this was someone else’s apartment She’s been waking Up every weeknight Trying to convince herself Against the feelings felt “No, no, those dreams aren’t real” like the way they seem Still she hoists high a smile Through the back ache “I can learn to live like this” I said it to a mirror in my house Now, “I can learn to live like this” reads just like a fiction from behind your dusty bookshelf. Elbow in the Palm of her left hand living out bags she claims The red wine in her right hand explains That theses walls still look The same way they did When this was someone else’s apartment.
Somewhere there’s a rule book you’re breaking Tore out a page from a Baltimore hotel’s bible And it’s been haunting you since. Folded in your wallet, you’ve yet to read it. Getting sick in the morning scurry to the alley on Water St then you hurry to the next party Depending on everything but yourself to get through this sickness. It’s getting insanely hard to sit, stand or lie right Struggling to stay awake, reading 1984 by the fireside. A few pages into section II I look over at your boots I wish you were in them right where they stand Holding out your arms Right where I’d land In a house, in a city, where this whole world makes sense.
He’s convinced waiting for a break that never comes Off in the distance An oasis, a mirage, a hitchhiker's thumb. Truth is he’s surrounded by a life he never wanted or dreamed of while holding the hand of another man who is never quite enough. He’s invested In the palm of its darkness Safely sheltered By a brushfire & sun dried leaves, steadfast he stands in steadfast regret. Truth is he’s surrounded by a life he never wanted or dreamed of while holding the hand of another man who is never quite enough. Confined he’s finally free from freedom. All these ridiculous requests Please find me motivated, framed-right and well-dressed We ache from within our filtered lives on display The ease of our own acceptance we’ve been pushing away. Truth is he’s surrounded by a life he never wanted or dreamed of while holding the hand of another man who is never quite enough. No, he is never quite enough.
lyrics: Up early for work, traffic weighs on you look down at your bitten thumb nail It's the way that life demands we live and breath in second hand Somewhere though, there does exist A week or two that will be sorely missed. It will surely be missed. If I can only push and pull through Wincing while remaining true to the route You worry at all of the other nouns I abuse While you are standing on that fresh pavement chain smoking cigarettes. It’s the habit that leads her feet to and away from me It’s my longing that never satisfies But I’ve claimed to be happy And when necessary I have lied. And I have lied so many times. If I could only give it a try She’d surprise every part of my stubborn mind I know this but don’t allow myself to step outside Where she is leaning on a red brick wall chain smoking cigarettes.
It hit me last night All over again The pit in my stomach An awful return Sitting in the kitchen Counting moths in the window pane Ignoring everything else Until the devil’s hour Finally forced to sleep At the feet of tomorrow Where I lose my mind Where I shake to think of the passing time Too shy to say what I should Instead I wait I pick at fingernails I crack my knuckles Watch mistakes Wish they weren’t made Make a funny face into the camera To lighten the mood You see? nothing’s changed We count our messy blessings Watch a documentary on global warming Knowing our ambitions are only here to keep us afloat.
Between the darkness and daylight Caught in the trapping of mid-afternoon Tearing at the ankle bone Down a dark alley, flickering lights lead me toward my home. Between the woman and her man Dies the right to piss where you stand True colors that were shown When they boarded up all the open doors leading to their home. Between the church and what’s at stake A leather-bound antidote saves The fire from its flame It’s a fantasy, she tried to believe, “oh, to be called home.” Between the sickness and the saint lie the rest of us who lie awake Equal rights evaporate Primal prose propels outdated ideas into our home. Between the mother and her child An unending war, existing long before her mother was born Lady Liberty is cold. All the protest signs on the overpass let her know You are not alone, as you March the Parkway you are home. Between you and me I feel overlooked, disgusted, but still I’m overjoyed At the thought of living Oh, the sunlight, the sea & all things in between The morning coffee & the daily routine. Though I know we’re so recklessly ruining everything. I know I am not alone.


Over the last few days, I’ve spent time writing and re-writing and re-writing in an (unsuccessful) effort to concisely sum up the various turning points, in my life, that led up to this new album being released. With every attempt, I felt more like the coworker who is constantly showing everyone pictures of their kids, when I was hoping to feel more like the coworker who would reveal pictures of their dog(s) when asked.

So, I'll just blurt it out.

I wanted to rattle on about losing my voice in April of 2016 and how it "opened my eyes." And how as a 30 year old, I finally got into Bob Dylan. (Head first into the Desolation Row end) And how I spent more quality time with my wife and our dog, Penny, hiking and traveling about. The sunrise from Cadillac Mountain. The sound of The Grand Canyon. The amount of beers and tacos one can consume during a rainy weekend in Austin. And how I finally went over seas. No words here can describe the beauty of Spain in September.

I wanted to go on about how I finally found the time to read novels. The Rabbit series was a highlight. Updike was unstoppable. Breaking Bad, S-Town, Serial, West World, The Office -- all things I was able to fully absorb without the distraction of trying to "make it" in music, or whatever. I wanted to point to the mental clarity I discovered once I stopped fixating on my music career. I landed a steady job, where I could see beyond my own struggles to make ends meet for once. Everything changed.

I wanted to explain my new writing process, and how it slowly churned out my favorite songs I'd ever written. I wanted to go on and on about how I joined forces with my friends in Pilkington to make this record (& their, unreleased, record simultaneously!). And how they probably have more to do with this record becoming a reality than they'll ever know.

I know all of this is likely only important to me, but I wanted to say that when the wheels fell off, I saw what really mattered in the rearview, from a ditch on the side of the road. I hope this provides some context if you decide to listen to the new record. Without any further hesitation, here's the new Night Windows record.



released March 1, 2019

Ryan Buzby - drums & percussion (8)
Mikey Cantor - vocals (3)
Andrew Colella - cello (1, 7 & 8)
Edward Everett - vocals (2, 4 & 6)
Kyle Graham - keys (2, 4 & 6)
Ben Hughes - vocals, guitars, bass, keys & percussion
Eric Krewson - trumpet (4, 8 & 9)
Tad Lecuyer - drums (2, 4, 6 & 8)
Sam Rosen - vocals (1, 2, 3 & 5)
Adam Smith - bass (2, 4 & 6)
Becca Todd - guitar & vocals (2, 4 & 6)

This album was recorded in various basements, garages & bedrooms throughout South Jersey and Philadelphia.
Produced by Ben Hughes
Engineered by Ben Hughes
(Additional Engineering by Ryan Buzby, Mikey Cantor, Andrew Colella, Kyle Graham, Eric Krewson & Sam Rosen.)
Mixed by Matt Weber at Gradwell House
Mastered by Dave Downham at Gradwell House

Special thanks to Jess, Steph, Ed, Becca, Adam, Tad, Ryan, Drew, Kyle, Eric K., Mikey, Sam, Nick, Jesse, Steve, Matt, Dave, Eric, Rob, Mike, Joe, Fred and Penny. This album would’ve suffered without your guidance and/or contributions.

This is an independent release

Spotify - open.spotify.com/album/5TBx5jPo7GNiURMpG4nzzH?si=n2-iUkNHQ2eMn-NNHS_feg


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Night Windows New Jersey

Night Windows' sophomore LP was recorded in basements, garages and bedrooms throughout Philly and South Jersey with Hughes' friends (most prominently Pilkington) serving as the band.

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