poetix made an album

sus

Well-known member
Wouldn't blink in terms of vocal performance I mean

What year is it anyway amateur singing normalized decades ago
 

luka

Well-known member
my point was that listening to peoples recorded voice freaks me out not that amateur singing is a problem. its like eye contact, it can feel a bit much
 
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luka

Well-known member
when i used to have a smartphone and someone had left me a voice message i would stare at it in horror for a few days, then delete it without listening
 

luka

Well-known member
woops not currently drinking
barty doing sex tourism in belarus
dr fox in worcester wherever that is
 

luka

Well-known member
me and Barty were listening to this tonight. favourite ones were answering machine and some other dreamy sunbeams through the thistledown one
 

poetix

we murder to dissect
A song about the tinkling chimes and breathy panpipes that announce a quickening of the pace in a US movie extolling the delights and virtues of neoliberal entrepreneurial agency.

---

These are the chimes of expectation
This is the siren of the future
This is your call to misadventure
This is the dawn of new America

Don’t tell mum about the dungeons
the uncounted dead
The centre of operation
The means of execution

These are the chimes of expectation
The eagle of the imperium

There’s no time for hesitation
The FOMO is real
You’ve been rightsized to perfection
Get out there and deal

Let’s maim some home invaders
Let’s make love like Sharon Stone
This is your brain on petrodollars
This is the way they take over

These are the chimes of expectation
The panpipes of delirium

 

poetix

we murder to dissect
TV talent contests have become incrementally more cruel, gladiatorial, and fetishistic about the arbitrary power of those who gatekeep their fantasies of wealth and status. Perhaps not worth caring about in itself, but symptomatic of something.

Studio lights, leather armrests
A mother comes to plead
The basilisks hear her entreaty
impassively

Close-up on tongue flicking over dry lips
A finger taps a knee
Drum roll and now here’s the verdict
It’s a die in a ditch, from me

Judges’ houses, always so tasteless
look out across a sparkling sea
My desires are terrible and shapeless
Sing for me, oh, sing your heart out for me

Some kindnesses are more
than we can afford
Go back whence you came
before we get bored

 

poetix

we murder to dissect
Was originally going to call this "linehan's army" but figured the fucker's mad enough to sue me...

Every fascist loves a woman
you need something to come home to
I would interpose my body
I would intercept an Exocet for you

I’m a rock, a strong defender
I’m the greatest since Alexander
Gonna crack, gonna go on a bender
Gonna break so hard I’m unmendable

She’s a woman, don’t correct her
She’s a woman, I know cos I checked her
Big gametes, large like I like them
My attentions, I know she invites them

I may be small, but baby I’m motile
IQ in the ninety-fifth percentile
That’s how you know I’ll never be owned
Maybe that’s why I’m forever alone

I’ll be Sporus, you be Nero
Every fascist needs a hero
I’m a man, going my own way
I’m a man, I’m a lover of the grave

I’m a lover of the grave
I’m so big and I’m so brave
Won’t you make me, make me your slave
I’m a lover of the grave

 

luka

Well-known member
i woke up with the words from scott walkers jackie (did he write them or someone else?) going through my head

'then i would have my own bordello'

this is sort of in the same vein, lyric wise. good fun.
 

poetix

we murder to dissect
The real marvel of Jackie is the translation into English of Jacques Brel's (of course) French lyrics - "Beau, beau, beau et con à la fois" (fit, fit, fit, but also a daft cunt) becoming "A cute cute, in a stupid-ass way".

Anyway, here's a new one, a whinge about Instagram.

Immaculate plumage
You peacock around in
You tall, tall poppy
you sad-eyed puppy

Such delicate features
That’s one for the profile
That’s one for the haters
The haters to choke on

Such plushy surroundings
Good fortune enfolds you
The cosmos must owe you
One hell of a kicking

Don’t mind me, I’m just lurking
Don’t mind me, I’m just wasting time
I could be reading
I could be making something

Weaponise your friends
Weaponise your ideas
Weaponise your lifestyle
All you ever do is weaponise

 

poetix

we murder to dissect
Last one, a song about Cressida Dick, titled "Dick's out"

Sonny Jim, we're just warming up
Sonny Jim, we're just warming up
Make you drink from the bitter cup
Sweet little buttercup

My boys are all with me
I'm the bully of this town
And if I'm going down, honey,
Then, honey, you're going down.

Fifteen minutes with me
In the back of the van,
You'll never see
The same again.

Instantly,
Utterly...

 
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