Romance Is Boring

by Los Campesinos!

supported by
Xander Atwood
Xander Atwood thumbnail
Xander Atwood Easily my top choice of all of LC!'s albums. Every song is a wonderful vignette that entices me with their creative and fun stories. In Medias Res and The Sea Is A Good Place to Think About the Future are my top tracks from this album. Favorite track: The Sea Is A Good Place To Think Of The Future.
los Simon
los Simon thumbnail
los Simon While listening to this album, I felt weird pains in my chest. It could have been heartburn, but I'm going to blame it on the song. I love all the cool sounds and the emotion behind them. Favorite track: Romance Is Boring.
Lukas Byrne
Lukas Byrne thumbnail
Lukas Byrne A lecture in humility delivered in an often tongue-in-cheek tone, Romance is Boring lays the cast for a stone-cold heart, only in turn to be offered what is probably a casket full of cement.
Huah. Favorite track: The Sea Is A Good Place To Think Of The Future.
Kristopher thumbnail
Kristopher I don't know, I wish I found this earlier. Favorite track: In Medias Res.
  • Streaming + Download

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

      £5 GBP  or more




released January 26, 2010



all rights reserved


Los Campesinos! Cardiff, UK

Official releases from your ex-girlfriend's favourite band.

contact / help

Contact Los Campesinos!

Streaming and
Download help

Track Name: In Medias Res
But let's talk about you for a minute
With the vomit at your gullet
From a half bottle of vodka that we'd stolen from the optic
On the back seat of your car, because it wasn't safe to start it
You were "far too fucked to drive", were the words that you imparted
And the woollen dress that clung so tight to the contours of your body
And the dead grass stuck to fibres from us rolling in the lay-by
Were passed to dog-haired blankets
That protected the bench seat covers
And a crucifix was hung from rear view mirror by your mother

I'm leaving my body to science, not medical but physics
Drag my corpse through the airport and lay me limp on the left wing
Drop me at the highest point and trace a line around the dent I leave in the ground
That'll be the initial of the one you'll marry now I'm not around
I flew for seven hours, the sky didn't once turn black

I wake from sleep, my head and shoulder, wet against the window
A frost had formed and melted, soaked me right through to my collarbone
If you were given the option of dying painlessly in peace at 45
But with a lover at your side, after a full and happy life
Is this something that would interest you?
Would this interest you at all?
Track Name: Romance Is Boring
I'm with St. Bernard's and we are
Scouring the Alps and the Andes
And if they die then it is on my head
They follow paw prints in the snow to your throne
To your bed

You're pouting in your sleep
I'm waking still yawning
We're proving to each other
That romance is boring
Still there are things I could do
If I was half prepared to
Prove to each other that romance is boring

Start as you mean to continue
Complacent and self-involved
You're trying not to be nervous
If you were trying at all
I will wake
I will bake phallic cake
Take your diffidence
Make it my clubhouse
But my strength’s within lies
Ventricle cauterized
It's the way of living that I espouse

We are two ships that pass in the night
You and I we are nothing alike
I am a pleasure cruise
You are brought out to trawl
Return nets empty
Nothing at all
Track Name: We've Got Your Back (Documented Minor Emotional Breakdown #2)
On the dashboard assembled
In descending height order,
Half a decade of father's day gifts
Her mother bought for her;
Never passed on.
Puffy eyes, nasty reaction;
Doe eyes, you're kidding yourself

I learned remedial Spanish
From a toddler.
Passenger seat of father's taxi
Cussing in unison
Clutching receipts and
Deceased handwriting
Filled with a sense of
Great disappointment;
Doe eyes, you're kidding yourself

And so fucking on, and so fucking forth:
We've got your back, whatever that's worth
If your hero told you to go huff a sharpie, what would you do?
(I do not know)
Every girl I ever kissed I was thinking of a pro-footballer

I've learnt more from toilet walls than I've learnt from these words of yours. Your feelings are buried in scriptures and fictions, it's all in the words but I'm here for the pictures.

I'm sweating off the cheat notes on my thighs
They were for your benefit not mine

If we didn't know the shape was for functionality, what would we do?
If it wasn't for the corrupt US pharmacy, what would we do?

Sometimes only you'll know.
We're cementing old friends, dismissing old foes.
We're throwing punches and ducking blows.
Track Name: A Heat Rash In The Shape Of The Show Me State; or, Letters From Me To Charlotte
She'd a bruise so black they watched it fade through the full spectrum of colours.
They kept it like a pet; a private joke they told no others.
And how the tissue repaired, and how it turned to yellow
And she found it disgusting, 'cause it didn't match her clothing.
He said "that's not yellow, it's golden".

Walk out onto your front lawn and face into the rain,
Shout into the wind this'll never be the same.

They promised they'd be best of friends from now until forever,
But both were far too needy not to fall for the other.
And how the frequent public displays of sisterly affection,
Left her feeling safe, left him with an erection.

Her body barely visible, as bleach-white as the bedsheets.
As stiff as starched, only perceptible as her middle was still branded
With a heat rash in the perfect shape of the Show-Me State.
Your come on lines sound disastrous; noise more foreboding than volcano or earthquake.

Letter from me to Charlotte;
"They appropriated everything we ever loved, and dressed it up in quotations and fluff.
And I had a dream: [though said with hands in pocket, I mean it hand on heart]
You held a gun to his head, pressed your thumbs to her throat".
In these letters. Letters from me to Charlotte.
Track Name: The Sea Is A Good Place To Think Of The Future
I grabbed hold of her wrist and my hand closed from tip to tip
I said 'you've taken the diet too far, you have got to let it slip'
But she's not eating again, she's not eating again, she's not eating again, she's not eating again.
I ask her to speak French and then I need her to translate, I get the feeling she makes the meaning more significant.
She was always far too pretty for me to believe in a single word she said, believe a word she said.

At fourteen her mother died in a routine operation, from allergic reaction to a general anaesthetic. She spent the rest of her teens experimenting with prescriptions, in a futile attempt to know more than the doctors.
She said one day to leave her, sand up to her shoulders waiting for the tide
to drag her to the ocean, to another sea's shore.
This thing hurts like hell,
but what did you expect?

And all you can hear is the sound of your own heart
And all you can feel is your lungs flood and the blood course
But oh I can see five hundred years dead set ahead of me
Five hundred behind,
A thousand years in perfect symmetry

Best known left wrist right finger, through all the Southern States, on every video games machine they call her triple A.
There were racists on the radio trying to give up smoking, the chat show host, he joked “you have to wait for the government program”.
You talk about your politics, and I wonder if you could be one of them, but you could never kiss a Tory boy without wanting to cut off your tongue again.

A good place to look to the future is when you are sat at the sea, with the salt up to your ankles and a view of the end of the pier, you may look down at your model's feet and wish that you'd just float away, and the weather here is overcast and the sea is the same shade of grey, so the landscape before you looks just like the edge of the world, but to the left side and the right side, either way is a crazy golf course.
The sea is a good place to think of the future.
Track Name: This Is A Flag. There Is No Wind
Can we all please just calm the fuck down?

In an analogy that makes sense to most
This opportunity it found me unmarked at the far post
But I blazed it right against the crossbar
Of the pub that you had worked in since you moved here for Bath Spa
We agreed we couldn't trust a guy that didn't like a single sport
But those bow-legged suitors hadn't given me much of a thought
They said it smelled delicious but it smelt of burning flesh
Not meant to be malicious but this is the cross we bear

The story of the winter I forgot how to speak my mind was like your nation's flag
But my breeze was too weak.
How they dragged me to the hospital, said I had gone deaf,
But I heard everything they said.
It's just I had no interest.

Our friends had put the two of us on suicide watch
And every second spent away we spent watching the clock
There are photos of us holding hands outside of the frame
I was there, but wonder where our fingers were all the same
It's like our self-restraint
(is the size of a fingernail)
And yet we chew it down
(yeah we chew it down all the same)
Sad eyes for sad goodbyes
It's a crime