sodom

by hellfruit

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about

In memoriam of the aching captain.
There is a building in Paris, down an often overlooked alleyway, Rue de Discovery; it is home to idiots and thugs who wrote the blueprints on how to disappear. Half a head, poking out of the sand, a father left buried by his son for decades only to be remembered upon discovery, dug up in his sixties, now a grandfather, old enough to now watch his grandson bury his own father in the sand and walk off into the ocean.

credits

released September 7, 2018

This is a collection of one-take "Automatic Writing" recordings; captured on a gloomy afternoon in November 2017, Manchester, using just one condenser microphone, routed to 3 instances of live pitch correction to generate automatic harmonies, one guitar, 3 amps, no overdubs. Nothing was written, this is all that will be remembered.

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

idlechrist Manchester, UK

UK based label and production company.
For mastering services or further info contact:
idlechristrecs@gmail.com

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Track Name: It Chews Itself
stains that tell stories of a darker time cooking my hand the meat inside it chews itself fast teeth in a slow jaw dance with a married woman her wedding ring is made of wire; a conduit to an unrecognisable tragedy where a child can feed on zebra bones until they are black and white in the face
Track Name: karate - Karate
cancel everything until after lunch I'll be feeling my way through curiosity diplomatic negotiations like shaving off an eyebrow dug too deep blinded myself in the process karate in front of the mirror so i can kick myself once it's over is it really so complicated I can't get dressed in front of my sensei but I can draw smiling faces on the soles of my feet my hair turned white overnight from the blood between my toes you have been bleeding on your wedding day
Track Name: Duchess
wine turning into vinegar into petroleum mustard lubricating the gloves empty boots no one to fill the discarded tissue looks so smug now a country made of cactus needles clean but economically static scentless for it has not touched a human for seven years six months and five days moving walls make breathing harder a passenger leaves their place in life to christen their maiden voyage their final trip down a wire made of copper galvanised with poor education and misunderstood intentions a duchess once told me I'm doing fine so that's good enough for me
Track Name: A Good Impression
spaghetti on the inside spaghetti for your insides the egg yolk approves of your absent nature there is hair growing in unusual places like your family's holiday home you're standing on bones forged from honesty and petrified into a hardened form you're making a good impression on my face with your knife
Track Name: There's No Data
I'm missing all of my teeth am I soon to become a man? endless motors whirring around the clock machines built to stop me from sleeping just festering in my own sweat and the dead ends of a genetic cycle cut abruptly there's no data in love losing water like words falling off a page; a poem to the useless children in our lives trees that grow far from the apple to sacrifice the fiend that may resemble our faces a yellow head on a neighbour's dog faces in the paper watching for errors moon that eclipses the sun; knuckles that feed an army of fingers scar tissue to wipe up the tears fingernails enduring further stress on the iris sweat forms a paragraph in your loins absorbing your future mistakes lines for the waiter the ink has not yet set
Track Name: Where Your Remains Lay
the ambassador is dead you could hang yourself with your own name my bladder is filled with cement I'll piss on your grave and built a supermarché where your remains lay a womb filled with crab meat a baby born with claws scratch out your insides on the way out to make your prison more spacious
Track Name: Psychic Waste
I'm worried about who I'll be eating with at the reception meal a buffet of unwanted emotion nausea in euthanasia psychic waste a broken connection to Eurasia
Track Name: Two Rocks
two rocks in a handheld coffin is all that's left
Track Name: The Modern Mother
this cannot be erased this memory of wet wood piled up between the chest cavity of an elephant god waiting on a waitress to behead me and serve my skull to someone who deserves the bone structure the deconstruction of morality for the modern mother she knows my faults my falls the skin is stashed behind the bricks between the walls they're impatient but it's not as though they have anywhere to go...

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