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Running out of Time

by Tim Vitullo

/
1.
I’ve been kicking around, For three decades or so. Searching for the new sound, In my car’s stereo. But those four-inch speakers can’t play, A song worth their weight in gold. So I keep spinning the dial, Left arm tanning out the driver’s window. (Chorus) Send my body, Sailing down the river. When I pass The Point, Toss a quarter in the fountain bowl. There’s no other way, To escape to feeling. The Monongahela Valley will swallow you whole. (Bridge) Thunder, crashing on the night, rolls right along. Even rain can’t stand it here for too long. Tar-laden hands they shape, Manipulate our only course. Hope broken down behind, A city hell bent on divorce. (Chorus) Send my body, Sailing down the river. When I pass The Point, Toss a quarter in the fountain bowl. There’s no other way, To escape to feeling. The Monongahela Valley will swallow you whole. I won’t ever be, Close to satisfied. Until I feel the heat, Of a Fayette sunrise. Put a little color in my cheeks, And make me close my eyes. Imagine dancing in the fields, Winds rushing through the rye. (Chorus) Send my body, Sailing down the river. When I pass The Point, Toss a quarter in the fountain bowl. There’s no other way, To escape to feeling. The Monongahela Valley will swallow you whole.
2.
Hold back all your problems, With that designer cup of coffee. Mix in a little bourbon, That hangover is coming fast. Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Always bring me back again. Why don’t I believe there's pain, At the bottom of that glass? (Chorus) We could be flying high, Forty-thousand feet on a Sunday. Grounded in a restaurant, Under the vacant lights of a cafe. It doesn’t matter, Where your boots have dragged ya’. We’re not the only ones, Who can’t find the words to say. Solving the world’s problems, With my designer cup of coffee. If I were the president, Things wouldn't be so bad. Then the redhead in the corner, Bitching with her girlfriends from La Jolla. Reminds me why this dismal life, Is all I'll ever have. (Chorus) We could be flying high, Forty-thousand feet on a Sunday. Grounded in a restaurant, Under the vacant lights of a cafe. It doesn’t matter, Where your boots have dragged ya’. We’re not the only ones, Who can’t find the words to say. (Bridge) Oh no, When your skies turn gray. Don’t bury yourself under, Your mistakes. Good Lord, For crying out loud. Life ain’t just the moments, That make your mama proud. (Chorus) We could be flying high, Forty-thousand feet on a Sunday. Grounded in a restaurant, Under the vacant lights of a cafe. It doesn’t matter, Where your boots have dragged ya’. We’re not the only ones, Who can’t find the words to say. Set aside your problems, For that designer cup of coffee. Isn't it the little things, That keep each day from being sad?
3.
Daily Bread 03:53
I’ve been running in circles, But the tail’s been chasing me. I’ve been caught in a whirlpool, The undertow won’t let me free. Around & ‘round we go, There’s no end that I can see. Drifting on, Forever aimlessly. The wind danced in the daylight, It didn’t used to be this way. The suddenly one night, That wind gave me cause to pray. I was younger than today, Having more fun than I should. Funny how, The lost time hurts so good. (Chorus) Would you show me what to do, To earn our daily bread? Must we claim undying love, Or must we bow & genuflect? ‘Cause I’ve worked these hands to death, Cracked, caked with dirt, & rough. And I’m growing tired of searching, For a way to make enough. They say life is a circle, Don’t I know that’s true. But it’s not miserable, Unless fear consumes you. Around & ‘round we go, There’s nothing I can do. Might as well, Enjoy the mystery too. (Chorus) Would you show me what to do, To earn our daily bread? Must we claim undying love, Or must we bow & genuflect? ‘Cause I’ve worked these hands to death, Cracked, caked with dirt, & rough. And I’m growing tired of searching, For a way to make enough. (Chorus) Would you show me what to do, To earn our daily bread? Must we claim undying love, Or must we bow & genuflect? ‘Cause I’ve worked these hands to death, Cracked, caked with dirt, & rough. And I’m growing tired of searching, For a way to make enough.
4.
Dakota 04:51
It’s a throwback, On my radio. From when we, Used to go. To that motel, Every spring. To crash their pool not, Wearing a thing. Was it your youthful charms & trained charisma, That hit me squarely in the jaw with hope? (Chorus) Oh my, Dakota, Isn't it a shame, That I ever got to know ya'? Oh my, Dakota, I ended up, A stranger in my own home. Oh my, Dakota, Isn't it a shame, That I had to let go of ya'? Oh my, Dakota, It was time I, Picked up and left you alone. The thought faded, And I laughed so. It still astounds me, You don’t know. A minced finger, Is too dear a thing. Just so you, Can wear my ring. I should have never let my guard down for an answer, ‘Cause you sucker punched me right in the nose. (Chorus) Oh my, Dakota, Isn't it a shame, That I ever got to know ya'? Oh my, Dakota, I ended up, A stranger in my own home. Oh my, Dakota, Isn't it a shame, That I had to let go of ya'? Oh my, Dakota, It was time I, Picked up and left you alone. (Bridge) The neighborhood, Will never be the same. They still curse the day, That we ever came. A mistake that wrote me, My greatest songs. That old house was bound to burn, Before too long. (Chorus) Oh my, Dakota, Isn't it a shame, That I ever got to know ya'? Oh my, Dakota, I ended up, A stranger in my own home. Oh my, Dakota, Isn't it a shame, That I had to let go of ya'? Oh my, Dakota, It was time I, Picked up and left you alone.
5.
Exit Zero 04:13
They’re tearing up the pavement, Bituminous serpent writhing in rage. See headlights scatter like baited mice, Through the broken door of their cage. The road will devour them, It will snare & eat them whole. For a highway lures those who’d rather run, Than give their dice a roll. (Chorus) Exit Zero, With service to loneliness & parts unknown. Get on back, To the beginning you go. Until you learn to cross high when the world swings low. You say you drive a fast car, Best zero to sixty & quarter you know. Crash the gears, hammer to the floor, Running from town along that road. You don’t want to hear it, You’ve always been invincible. You’re desperate to think the news won’t catch you, Anywhere that you might go. (Chorus) Exit Zero, With service to loneliness & parts unknown. Get on back, To the beginning you go. Until you learn to cross high when the world swings low. Sure seems like a fun time, A life in postcards & diner windows. But who could ever follow you down, The dark path that you roam? Fear’s gonna’ kill you, Gonna’ drain the life out of your bones. How about it, son, Isn’t it about time to get your ass on home? (Chorus) Exit Zero, With service to loneliness & parts unknown. Get on back, To the beginning you go. Until you learn to cross high when the world swings low.
6.
I grew up sixteen hours, North of New Orleans. Sixteen hours, North of New Orleans. Never heard the Tremé music, Crash on any levees. Sixteen hours, North of New Orleans. (Chorus) There's a girl down there, Holding my heart in her hands. I want to drive, Kiss her where she stands. I’m scared to ask her, If she’ll wait for me. That pretty girl, From New Orleans. I’m sitting thirty hours, East of Calgary. Thirty hours, East of Calgary. Never drank Analog, Or joined the great stampede. Thirty hours, East of Calgary. (Chorus) There's a girl up there, Holding her heart in her hands. She wants to drive, Kiss me where I stand. I’m scared to tell her, That she’ll never be. That pretty girl, From New Orleans. You know there’s forty days, From them to me. Eighty days, Exactly in between. This damn road, Is gonna’ kill me. Eighty days, Exactly in between. (Chorus) There's a girl out there, Holding my heart in her hands. Gonna’ take a drive, Kiss her where she stands. I’m scared to think that, She might never be, That pretty girl, From New Orleans. I’m scared to think that, She might never be, That pretty girl, From New Orleans.
7.
I’ve got a hungry heart, It’s searching high & low for its matching part. Over & over, Ending where we start, I’ve got a hungry heart. You’ve been on my mind, Ever since we broke our humble rhyme. Like the words that never, Quite came out right. You’re still on my mind. Call it what it is, Not doing what I know I should. The needle point, Before the rush of blood. (Chorus) Ooh, we are running out of time. Ooh, and the feeling’s so sublime. Poised for sorrow, And braced for pain. Ooh, if I could only start again. And so the story goes, What seemed important an age ago. Years of life packed, In a box of clothes. So the story goes. Call it what it is, Not doing what I know I should. A calm, warm breath, Before the flood. (Chorus) Ooh, we are running out of time. Ooh, and the feeling’s so sublime. Poised for sorrow, And braced for pain. Ooh, if I could only start again.

about

Tim Vitullo was running out of time.

After spending nine months and thousands of dollars in the studio, he found himself still without new music. It became clear after listening to the final mixes that his attempt at a new record was a failure. Having spent the four years since his last release touring the country at a grueling pace, the pressure to catch his audience’s attention with a follow-up had reached its peak. It was at this moment that Vitullo was forced to face every artist’s greatest fear:

“How do I avoid being forgotten?”

The failure was emotionally and financially devastating to Tim, a totally independent artist. Would he and the band be able to find the time, energy, and resources necessary to redo the album? Further complicating things, they simultaneously needed to fill a vacancy left by their recently departed pianist and continue their rigorous tour schedule. The challenge seemed insurmountable.

Yet, Tim and the band did as they always had before. They pressed on.

Propelled by a sense of urgency, Tim rallied his group, the Tim Vitullo Band (TVB), to record with friend and collaborator Mike Smales at his Applekid Studios in the band’s hometown of Pittsburgh, PA. This attempt would forego the state-of-the-art recording console and celebrated producer to instead see Tim and David Fix, TVB’s bassist and backup vocalist, self-produce the album.

The band continued to face challenges throughout the recording process. Now reduced to a trio, decisions needed to be made to fill the void left by the piano and keyboards in the group’s sound. Both Tim and Dave found Applekid to be a fertile ground for experimentation. They ultimately opted for a “back to basics” sound that showcases Vitullo’s guitar chops and recalls his earlier work as a session player and “gun for hire.” The trio modified their performances from the prior sessions to create a rock aesthetic that abandons the horn section and keys of Vitullo’s past projects. The band evolved.

Completed at a breakneck pace and on a shoestring budget, the Applekid sessions resulted in the aptly titled Running out of Time, Tim Vitullo’s triumphant sophomore LP.

Running out of Time showcases Vitullo’s growth as a songwriter and performer. His Americana influences and experiences touring with the Tim Vitullo Band are on full display throughout the tracks. Songs like “Monongahela Valley,” “Daily Bread,” and “Running out of Time” all feature soaring, catchy choruses nestled within tight, efficient arrangements. These key ingredients are packaged alongside Vitullo’s signature guitar pyrotechnics, Brent McConnell’s powerful drumming, Fix’s bass acrobatics, and the band’s three-part vocal harmonies.

Running out of Time follows up on the success of 2015’s Josephine & Assorted Train Songs, Vitullo’s debut LP. That album serves as a portrait of “contemporary blues” music that borrows as much from Vitullo’s jazz, jam band, & country influences as it does the American blues tradition. Josephine & Assorted Train Songs was produced, engineered, & mixed by Steven Foxbury.

Prior to this, Vitullo established himself as an exciting, young jazz composer & improviser in State College, PA with the release of This is the Thing! in 2012. That EP, which doubles as Tim’s undergraduate thesis, explores bebop, Brazilian bossa nova, modal jazz, & fusion genres through a handful of Tim’s original compositions. The album was produced by Dr. Stephen Hopkins, who is also featured on piano.

Currently, Tim is performing regularly with the TVB in the Northeast, Midwest, & Atlantic Coast regions of the United States in support of Running out of Time. He proudly endorses The Rock Slide guitar slides and is happy to already be preparing material for a follow-up album to be recorded in 2020.

credits

released June 26, 2020

All songs © 2020 Tim Vitullo
Produced by Tim Vitullo & David Fix
Engineered & Mixed by Mike Smales at Applekid Studios
Mastered by Barak Shpiez
Album Artwork by Paul Haggerty
Photo by Rich Pantaleo

Tim Vitullo – Guitars & Vocals
David Fix – Bass Guitar & Vocals
Brent McConnell – Drums & Percussion
Cody Piper – Vocals

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Tim Vitullo Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Tim Vitullo is a Pittsburgh-based artist, sideman, and session musician. His band, Tim Vitullo Band, has had the distinct pleasure of performing in over a dozen different states and supporting acclaimed artists such as B.B. King, The Marcus King Band, Jared James Nichols, and Tim Reynolds & TR3. Tim proudly endorses The Rock Slide guitar slides, NFStraps guitar straps, and Rattlesnake Cables. ... more

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