This album was completely written and recorded over a month in Summer 2020, with the initial spark coming from explorations of electronic instruments and soundscapes. There are lots of different textures to explore on this album – some bittersweet, some frustrated, some bleak and some celebratory. Electronic trickery seemed the best way to capture this particular lot of songs.
You can listen here:
Or search in Tidal, Napster, Deezer, iHeart Radio, Tik Tok, Pandora and most other streaming services.
Alternatively, you can listen on this page via this YouTube playlist:
Perpetual Shaving Cut (You’re Like a) – There’s a couple of types of silence – on a highway drive. One is the peace we used to hear – the other is the deafening now. You’re like a perpetual shaving cut; opening up again. Too many bugs on the windshield – can’t see the road ahead. When was the last time either of us – were not afraid to let go of the wheel. You’re like a perpetual shaving cut; opening up again. Relentless frustration; I want a vacation; I’m tired of this movie – I wanna write a new one. The trail that’s been left behind – is never really far away. The neon flash of the rearview mirror is constantly stealing our attention. You’re like a perpetual shaving cut; opening up again.
Quiet Noise – Do you step on the snails? Trophy on the desk that you made for yourself. Nauseating sycophancy. Thoughts and prayers for yourself – we’ll remember. Confrontational voices – right up front. In your ears and in your face. Do you see them, do you hear them, which is worse? Thoughts and prayers for yourself – we’ll remember. Scorn from the hill – the hill your supposed to heal from. Smirking with ecstasy; the camera flash is not your halo. Holy number 30.
November 19 – Streetlight shadows a huge black tree – it’s dead, it seems, just for a glance – but for one limb that moves with a tiny breeze – like it only has a few gasps left. Forecast for November 20 – thunder in the evening – I can’t help but wonder how this tree will be coping tomorrow night – will this evening’s hint of peace erupt into rabid panic amongst the branches again? A final storm to cleanse, or the beginning of a the whole thing breaking down? We can’t press pause on this scene for much longer. Weighed down by our emblems. It is perhaps time to be set free…
The Full Length of Dorset Road – Let me in or let me out. Please allow me to stumble. The first taste of Summer or running through the rain; sometimes I wanna wear my wedding ring again. No New Years’ kiss, no Christmas day; nobody on the couch to keep me sane. Just driving the full length of Dorset road. Angry reserve – we both deserve. Commitment is just a feeling, just a moment, just a word. Let me in or let me out.
Tipsy Intermission – Why are you so quick to judge me? I mean, really, what on Earth have I done to you? This is all a little bit rough. I feel like I am in The Shining, or something…
Two Thousand and Five – Clear mind with a drink in my hand and a view of the Caribbean; feet up, sailing into the sun, international delicacies. Open in the heart and the mind, learning and listening; no way am I looking behind, bad memories quickly fade. Three cheers – for 2005. Hot legs hanging over the bed but the 5am tears aren’t for me; duelling seven string guitars and some Meshuggah by the pool. Three cheers – for 2005. Red pill or the blue pill, dive in deep no matter what I choose.
An Afternoon with LaVey – Kaleidoscopic spectrum. Autotelic someone. Searching for a reason. Maybe I don’t need one. Open up. Magnified projection. Mythical rejection. Crass investigation of satirical devotion. Open up. Pragmatic realism, makes a lot of sense to me. Free will. Vital existence. Tangible personal progress. An intellectual decompression chamber built for dramatic stimulation. Open up. Pragmatic realism, makes a lot of sense to me.
A 5c Coin in a Fish and Chip Shop – “Can you pick that up for me?” he trivially says, with no sense of the rabid descent into pain occurring across from him. Burn my eyes with other people’s happiness. Viscous cycle: gratitude, searching for relevance and turning to green. Submit to unhealthy temptations and poisons. What even is hunger, anymore? Down for the count again.
A Song You Will Never Hear – We’ve said good bye and now I am sadder than a petrol station birthday card. Pretty sure there’s nothing up there in the clouds but if there is, I hope you can ascend like all those other good people in the stories. There is no other comfort in this despair. This is a song you will never hear.
Addendum for Danny Carey – [instrumental]