Which Part's the Dream

by The Jet Age

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    These are two songs* off of what will eventually be our seventh(!) record. We're going to release songs, 2-3 at a time, until everything's been recorded and mixed, at which point we'll release all the tracks in what we fondly remember as the "album" format.
    We're not sure if this album will be a physical release; if it is, and you'd like a copy, any money spent on the "singles" we release will be put toward said copy. So, if we have a $11 CD and you spend $5 on downloads, another $6 will get you the CD.
    In the meantime, if you download these tracks as FLACs, you can get them at better-than-CD resolution (24/48)! If you've got a USB port in your stereo, DVD or BD player, you likely can play these files and, if so, we strongly recommend you do so! Thanks for reading this far, and thanks for listening!

      $1 USD  or more




Two more from our forthcoming 7th album!


released October 14, 2016



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The Jet Age Washington, D.C.

Washington, DC's the Jet Age are a critically acclaimed power-trio about whom writers say things like, "[T]he Jet Age manages to mix the hyper jangle of the Wedding Present with the cruise-control melodies of Swervedriver and the heaven-scraping majesty of the Who circa 1970" (The Onion) and "a heart-pounding rocker … all of the riffs are stellar." (Pitchfork (8.0)) ... more

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Track Name: Which Part’s the Dream?
Years pass like faded pages--
vague pictures of forgotten ages.
It kills me, but I have to face it:
I fee like I let it all just get away.

Which part’s the dream?

I walk along these midnight streets,
talk to myself ’til I’m half asleep.
Come back home and I slide between our sheets …
Is this part the dream?

Which part’s the dream?

I kiss you all with the sweetest lips.
I touch you all with my fingertips,
as warm as the sun.
Which part’s the dream?
Track Name: The Script
I know this script;
we’ve both read it.
The scene has grown old,
the delivery so cold,
but every line is true.

When you call my name,
it doesn’t sound the same,
something is missing.
If everything must change,
then we can’t be the same,
but why must we be so different?
When you called my name,
it didn’t sound the same,
something was missing.
If everything must change
then we can’t be the same,
but why must we be so different?

Two years had passed,
I’d forgotten you at last
so of course I saw you.
The scene had grown old,
the delivery so cold,
but every line was true.