Old Albert, he lives just down the street.
He never closes his door.
Old Albert never complains about the heat,
complains just the same of the cold.
Some windows are patched with scotch tape,
stairs are all gone except for cinder blocks.
Inherited the place from some dead aunt.
I heard he never met her before.
Old Albert, he lives just down the street.
Ain't never seen him work before.
Then one day Old Albert closed his door.
Some say screams came from inside.
No one ever knocked on Old Albert's front door.
The next day it was open again wide.
Then Old Albert was seen mowing grass,
was seen on a ladder I'm told,
hoisting up a new pane of glass,
mixing mud for steps made of stone.
Composer and multi-instrumentalist Robert Stillman takes a magnifying glass to American self-image on his latest avant-garde work. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 25, 2022