1. |
||||
|
As I scroll through Facebook and Instagram I see that everyone is partying, having a good time.
Suddenly, I become acutely aware of the silence that surrounds me.
That's right, I'm having an old fashion pity party.
Whether it's being new in town, or because of my age, or some other unknown factor,
I feel like I'm no longer the desired commodity I once was.
I now find myself faced with a decision: welcome the warm embrace of irrelevance or, I don't know, maybe something more proactive.
I won't die if you leave, I will die if you leave.
(Maybe I'll join a book club?)
I won't die if you leave, I will die if you leave.
(Or a soup group? Are those a thing?)
I won't die if you leave, I will die if you leave.
(I could take up improv.)
I won't die if you leave, I will die if you leave.
(Could that get me out of my shell?)
Sometimes I feel like my gift for small talk has decayed with age.
Like, I use to be really, really good at small talk.
And now...
Every conversation I have devolves into stilted awkwardness.
And I find myself asking...
Is it me?
(Is it me?)
Is it them?
(Is it them?)
Is it me?
(Is it me?)
Is it them?
(Is it them?)
It's me.
I won't die if you leave, I will die if you leave.
(What if I just left the house, for once?)
I won't die if you leave, I will die if you leave.
(How about getting involved in local politics?)
I won't die if you leave, I will die if you leave.
(I should go to a sound bath.)
I won't die if you leave, I will die if you leave.
(Is this vegan?)
Let's die.
I won't die if you leave, I will die if you leave.
I won't die if you leave, I will die if you leave.
I won't die if you leave, I will die if you leave.
I won't die if you leave, I will die if you leave.
|
||||
2. |
Bodies (Director's Cut)
06:24
|
|||
|
Yeah, I'm talking through the verses again.
Whatever. I like the way that it sounds.
Lately, I find myself thinking about the awareness of death one can only feel from falling in love.
Even in the best case scenario, the human body was not meant to last.
And though love may be strong enough to endure infinity,
(cough)
My doughy vessel is not.
When our bodies give in...
When our bodies give in...
When our bodies give in...
When our bodies give in...
Will there be time?
Time is slipping away,
I am lucky to linger,
With my loves at my side,
And a ring on my finger.
Hell is alive and existing without you.
These years that I steal are heaven sent.
The clock is ticking,
Cast it into the fire of your youth,
It may be far away for now,
But you can still hear it.
Is this life, you'll ask.
Have my plans always looked like this?
Is this vegan, you'll ask.
Have I bought myself cred like this?
Is this time, you'll ask?
Have my hands always looked like this?
Is this love, you'll ask.
Has death always looked like this?
When our bodies give in...
When our bodies give in...
When our bodies give in...
When our bodies give in...
When our bodies give in...
When our bodies give in...
When our bodies give in...
When our bodies give in...
When our bodies give in...
(How will I find you?)
When our bodies give in...
(How will you find me?)
When our bodies give in...
(How will I find you?)
When our bodies give in...
(How will you find me?)
When our bodies give in...
(How will I find you?)
When our bodies give in...
Will there be time?
Time is slipping away,
I am lucky to linger,
With my loves at my side,
And a ring on my finger.
Hell is alive and existing without you.
These years that I steal are heaven sent.
Time is slipping away,
I am lucky to linger,
With my loves at my side,
And a ring on my finger.
Hell is alive and existing without you.
These years that I steal are heaven sent.
Have I lost count of the dwindling beats of my heart?
Have I lost count of the dwindling beats of my heart?
Have I lost count of the dwindling beats of my heart?
Have I lost count of the dwindling beats of my heart?
Have I lost count of the dwindling beats of my heart?
Have I lost count of the dwindling beats of my heart?
Have I lost count of the dwindling beats of my
|
||||
3. |
Los Angeles_2019
04:51
|
|||
|
This "song" contains ominous tones for we live in ominous times.
I can't help but see the meaning in everything.
There was an earthquake on the Fourth of July.
And no matter what side you're on,
Sometimes this feels like the end.
I'm just waiting for this rose quartz to kick in.
I'm just waiting for this Panda Express to kick in.
I'm just waiting for this improv to kick in.
I'm just waiting for my whole like to kick in.
Dad, are you happy?
Dad, are you happy?
Dad?
I'm struggling to strike a balance between tongue in cheek and deeply sincere.
I can't help but see the meaning in everything.
There was an earthquake on the Fourth of July.
And I was sitting on the toilet, staring my phone.
I mean, you see the metaphor I'm going for, right?
(Hey Dan, can we get four in a row?)
I'm just waiting for this next line to kick in.
(This next line to kick in.)
I'm just waiting for this next line to kick in.
(This next line to kick in.)
I'm just waiting for this next line to kick in.
(This next line to kick in.)
I'm just waiting for this next line to kick in.
(This next line to kick in.)
(That last part was about writing lyrics... not cocaine.)
I'm struggling to strike a balance between ignorant optimism and deep despair.
|
||||
If you like Hidden House, you may also like:
A new, experimental collection from Buried Treasure, a UK label known for archived electronic, jazz, psych, folk & library sounds.
go to album
The luminous minimal synth duo's latest, due in February, is their most carefully constructed and emotionally resonant yet.
go to album
German visual artist Jörg Sasse shifts gears for a gorgeously unsettling collection of piano-based compositions.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Apr 8, 2015
go to album
Psiconautica Vol.1/ 1xCD
by Jacky 0
Glitchy, spaced-out Italian pop that glistens with warm electronics. Lyrics add an expansive broody vibe.
go to album
The Berlin-by-way-of-Michigan producer’s latest is an accomplished account of existential wonder and dread.
go to album
Invisible Pink (Inc. Uriah Klapter, SidiRum remixes)
by Monk Ernie
Lithuanian producer Monk Ernie builds psychedelic, disco, funk, and electronic sounds into a unique vision of "Baltic Post Funk."
go to album
