This product comes with a WAV file for the full podcast episode as well as the demos that Matt and Bug wrote and showed off during the episode. We are happy for you to download these for free, and for people looking to support this episode, there is an option to tip during checkout! And. We. Are. Back! Jam Mechanics returns for season 2 with our first guest prompter (Our longtime collaborator and artist, DeepBlueInk!). In our first episode back we reveal the fate of Jam Mechanics Mansion (Castle?) and reflect on the ocean that separates our two co-hosts Jam Mechanics is a podcast hosted by Matt (The Narcissist Cookbook) and Bug (Bug Hunter) where we are challenged to write a song demo from scratch every episode Our Music:The Narcissist Cookbook Bug HunterFeel free to reach out to us at:Both: [email protected] Bug: [email protected]: [email protected] follow us on Instagram, Tumblr, YouTube, and Spotify! Please share the show (and our music) with friends! -- SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE BELOW -------------------Challenge: Transatlanticism-----------------BUG'S SONGTitle: AgamemnonLyrics:I am aboard the Agamemnon, we are laying down a lineIt's gonna cross the ocean floor, the greatest project of our timeA telegraph from Newfoundland will reach the Irish Shoresbut by by the time this note arrives you will not love me anymore I am aboard the Agamemnon, laying cables in the seaFor the purpose of the president to parley with the queenAs for me, I've got this letter that I'll send you in the mornbut by the time this note arrives you will not love me anymore You will not love me by the time you read this noteYou told me you would wait if I had to goI keep your photo in a locket to remind me of my home but while aboard the Agamemnon I have so much time to dreamof a world where I can reach you with no middle-man betweenAnd maybe when we're done I'll get my turn, as a rewardbut I never got that chance, now you don't love me anymoreWhen I made it to Niagara, you didn't love me anymore You will not love me by the time you read this noteYou told me you would wait if I had to goI think of you so often with no way to let you know This is only the beginning, this simple cable in the seaSoon we'll have radios and satellites and waves we cannot seeNo one'll know the pain of loving one they cannot reach I'd commandeer the Agamemnon and I'd sail it back to shoreit's just a faster way to learn that you don't love me anymoreso I'll keep laying this cable for the lovers not yet bornso that they may never hear "No, I don't love you anymore"----------MATT'S SONGTitle: The TollboothLyrics: When Britain's national health service was launched in 1948 it set sail in the wake of the second world warwhen the country's citizensthe upper and lower classes boththe rich and the desperately poorhad served together, side by sideand the ones who survived the horrorscame home demandingto no surprisemore we did not fight, they saidin our millionsjust for things to return to the way they werewe didn't diethey saidin our hundreds of thousands just to save a country where the leading cause of death is povertyand perhaps for the first time in british historythe aristocrats and the working classagreed on somethinglargelythat arming the nation and teaching them how to fight and die for what they believe inmakes their demands somewhat more convincing and so barely three years after the soldiers had come homeon july 5th, 1948the british health system was torn out by the follicles and rebuilt in a new visionthat it would be free at point of service, that no one, NO ONE, would be turned away or trapped into debt by lack of personal meansthat it would be available to everyone who walked through the doors of a hospital or a GP's officeand that the well off wouldn't be able to skip the queuethis was radical beyond comprehensiona truly universal healthcare systemdoctors across the nation barred their doors and hired personal securityso sure were they that the empowered impoverished would storm their officesdemanding medicine and aidonly to findon that monday morninga polite queue of people in needwho for the first time were able to receive the treatment they would have had since birthif they had been born into a wealthier family the trouble ishealthcare is one of those futureproof industrieslike plumberpeople are always going to need waterand if you can fix their pipes you are, within reason, set for lifeand the hospital and the doctor's surgery are no exceptionpeople are always going to get sickthey're always going to get injuredat the very very leasteveryone has to be bornand everyone has to dieand you would be an idiotwould you notif you had the opportunity and the presence of mindto not set up a tollbooth at the well-worn bridges that lead into and out of this life i am being faceitious of coursewho thinks like thiswho is so calculating and cruelthat they would look at the legions of dying and sickand feel not compassionbut greedwho would see not the faces of their own parents, friends and childrenbut a sea of investmenta captured marketa well of bottomless profit it would be inappropriate for meto delve too deep into the catacombs that are the American Healthcare Systemif you are listening from those shores, then you knowbetter than i dohow it feels to live in fear of a broken boneof a cough that won't go awayof a necessary surgery or a birth in the familyI have personally met people who were having to choose between treatment for a treatable disease and a slow deathSo as to have something to leave their loved ones in their willA meagre windfall, after all, is infinitely preferable over a cascade of debtMaybe, at best, you are simply aware of how lucky you areTo not fear these things as many doThe privilege of being able to treat mild maladies as the inconvenience they are rather than an existential threat I bring this up only becauseThe profit machine that is the american healthcare systemIs hungryAnd needs to be fedThere is no such thing as too much moneyThere is no endgame in an investment portfolioWhere you find the princess in the very last castle and the credits rollThere isn't a kill screen where the arcade machine craps out and kicks you back to the beginningThe score just keeps getting bigger and bigger, the numbers getting longer and longer,Separated by decimal points and letters and commasAnd when the numbers get so unwieldy that we run out of space, Eh, we'll just start printing the end of year reports in landscapeThe machine needs to eatAnd the painkillers and bloodied sheets of 333 million people could only satisfy it for so longIts eyes, inevitably, have turned east And what do you think it sees?When you have broken your arm and are getting it cast at 3amWhen your parents start visibly ageing and wiltingWhen your child gets a cough that won't go awayDo you think it wants to help?Or do you think it wants to eat them?
