Interest in the band was immediate and a short while later they signed to New Jersey based Ferret Records. Their debut full-length, 2003's Make Yourself Sick, was to the shock of some fans much lighter and punk-pop-oriented, but with the same heavy screaming and guitars found on earlier releases. It was shortly after this when drummer Ben Arseneau parted with the band and was replaced by former Fordirelifesake guitarist Brian Southall.
The band's next effort came in the form of 2005's Trainwreck. This release was a somewhat more subdued, experimental concept record based on a man's loss of sanity. It was in this same album where the boys made a brave move by introducing Kara Dupuy, who brought with her not only a fresh, new synth to their sound but female vocals as well. But all good things have to end and after only a short stint with the band they parted ways.
Trainwreck tells the story of a man who murders his wife, with whom he is deeply in love with, all while under the influence of deeply troubling dreams. Upon waking from these dreams, he realizes what he's done and slips into a catatonic state. The remainder of the album follows the man from his release from a psych ward, through his obsession with a song heard only by him. He belives the song influences himself to kill more, so he cuts off both his own hands, to never kill again. The eventual conclusion of the story where he dies from a overdose and a infection from the rusty machine used to cut his hands off. Trainwreck is a tribute to the versatility of Boys Night Out. Their style has evolved and matured, but the components that are explicitly BNO remain in their music.
In early 2006, Kara Dupuy (vocals and synthesizer/keyboard) left Boys Night Out due to her engagement. She has not currently been replaced. Later that year, Andy Lewis, formerly of The Fullblast, joined Boys Night Out on guitar, and Ben Arseneau, the original drummer in the band, re-joined after Brian Southall left to join The Receiving End of Sirens.
The Fine Art Of Making It Out Alive
Boys Night Out Lyrics
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I can't remember if it's Thursday or December.
I've been keeping track of days by counting hangovers and bottles on my floor.
My mangled memory is making me mistake misfortune for forgiveness.
I don't think I'll make it out alive.
So promise me that you'll survive to bury me.
Just empty all the alcohol and chronicle the chemicals, but don't forget the cigarettes.
Alright, I admit that past few months were broken and abused.
Now I'm used to the bleeding and unspoken words that kept me so confused.
Maybe we can get past these addictions,
But the bodies piling up are a whole other story unless your stomach's strong enough.
Hell, maybe we can just pretend that this recovery,
Won't depend on moderation and in the end the same routine won't leave me dead.
Just empty all the alcohol...or baby, we're dead.
Tomorrow we'll wake up in time to stop this double suicide through kisses laced with cyanide
And one last look through blood shot eyes.
I guess this is what they call killing yourself in small doses.
The Fine Art Of Making It Out Alive by Boys Night Out is a song that portrays the physical and emotional deterioration of a person who is struggling with addiction. The lyrics open up with a line that exemplifies the mood and tone of the song, where the singer is begging for comfort before falling asleep, as they lay in a state of confusion about their current reality. The singer's lifestyle has led to a point where they cannot differentiate between the days, and they are counting the empty bottles around them for any sense of time frame. In the following lines, the singer reveals a damaged memory, which is making him misinterpret his misfortune with forgiveness.
Line by Line Meaning
Kiss me on the forehead, angel, before I go to sleep.
I need comfort; please give me affection before I rest.
I can't remember if it's Thursday or December.
My life is a blur, and I have lost track of time.
I've been keeping track of days by counting hangovers and bottles on my floor.
My life revolves around drinking, leading to constant hangovers, and littering my room with empty bottles.
My mangled memory is making me mistake misfortune for forgiveness.
My damaged brain is affecting my perception of reality. I cannot differentiate between mistreatment and mercy.
I don't think I'll make it out alive.
I am not sure if I will survive this lifestyle.
So promise me that you'll survive to bury me.
If I do not make it, please promise that you will live on and put me to rest.
Just empty all the alcohol and chronicle the chemicals, but don't forget the cigarettes.
Dispose of all the alcohol and keep track of the drugs consumed. Plus, keep the empty cigarette packs as memory.
Remember every ember.
Recall every single moment that led to this point of our lives.
Alright, I admit that past few months were broken and abused.
I acknowledge that the recent times have been tough, filled with trauma and damage.
Now I'm used to the bleeding and unspoken words that kept me so confused.
I have grown accustomed to being in pain, silently struggling to find meaning and understanding.
Maybe we can get past these addictions,
We can try to overcome our addictions.
But the bodies piling up are a whole other story unless your stomach's strong enough.
Our addiction has already caused many deaths, but if you have the strength to battle and survive, we may get through it.
Hell, maybe we can just pretend that this recovery,
We can imagine a world where recovery from addiction is easy and painless.
Won't depend on moderation and in the end the same routine won't leave me dead.
Our recovery should not depend on making limited changes or we may still be in danger of dying.
Just empty all the alcohol...or baby, we're dead.
Get rid of all the alcohol, or else we might not survive.
Tomorrow we'll wake up in time to stop this double suicide through kisses laced with cyanide
We can fix this together, waking up the next day will be the start of our recovery (our combined suicide, through situations and habits that will feed our troubled lives every day)
And one last look through blood shot eyes.
We can have one final glimpse of our world before stepping away from it.
I guess this is what they call killing yourself in small doses.
This lifestyle is slowly killing us; it's similar to slow poisoning.
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Written by: Giovanni Visnadi, Janice Lenora Robinson
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind