1. |
FAKE NEWS!!!!11!
01:06
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TL;DR - what right-wing populist leaders would tell themselves to get to sleep at night (if they had a conscience).
Feed the ducks
then burn their books
it's the kindest thing you can do
because daily bread cannot be read
and what they read may not be true.
Thank you to Margaret Atwood for the duck feeding/book burning idea (see June and her mum in The Handmaid's Tale). Thanks also to Margaret Atwood for continuing to be an inspiring person.
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2. |
Spring Forwards
02:32
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TL;DR - playing out is good for you.
Hey, have you noticed how...
I am home and it's not dark?
Let's take a trip to the park
and throw a fleeting frisbee
amongst all this history
I am home and it's not night!
Let's notice how the light
creeps through cracks in vines
It's like a Leonard Cohen nursery rhyme.
When I only have one memory left
I'd like it to be the lightness of the air in my chest
as we race towards towards the burgeoning spring sun.
Let's make time to take in textures that bring us to ourselves.
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3. |
Fall Backwards
03:00
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TL;DR - don't suffer alone!
I know that autumn's never as perfect
as you hope that it might seem
It's like the leaves conspire with powers higher
to never be crisp and clean
I know your thoughts are never as easy
as I tend to hope that they could be
it's like you're fighting a fire whilst I enquire
if you'd like some more bits of dead tree
Yet I know you know the beauty of those bare, fractal branches
It's not a form of decay - it's a stripping away,
it's another of life's dances
So please know you can come to me to try to shed your leaves.
In the strange silence of fog
Moments drift and lose their substance
Like the voicelessness of dogs
Strip the bark that we once trusted
When you tell me you feel better for the chat
It really feels like you mean it
And I know that I can't ever really know that
But I trust you like you'd like to trust yourself.
Grey then black
These evenings are cracks
Yellow and brown
Our foliage crowns
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4. |
Nugget
00:56
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TL;DR - I'm trying very hard to not be a patriarch.
Was it The Sun wot did it?
That sent the pain your way?
By searing our damaged skin with its page 3, UV rays?
Or are there lines we're given to play ourselves in part?
Do we consent or comply, whilst our eyes scream why did this all have to start?
Am I woke?
Perhaps I spoke too soon
cutting you off with time-told tales.
So please tell me to do better
tell me when I fail.
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IMPORTANT: it is not your responsibility to tell us we are being shit men. It is our responsibility to not be shitty. But if you feel we could improve as people and feel moved to tell us, know that we'll hear you!
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5. |
Stasis outside Bakeries
02:30
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TL;DR - Our home towns are upset that we left them, but they understand.
I can show that you were happy here.
When your Gran counted silvers for ice cream
and the garage door invited an attack.
When it seemed like every one of your conversations
started with the salutation:
'Hey man, can I have some on that?'
But happiness is just a state of play
so you left in that now familiar way
My bandaged bridge was torn down
your glass house was shattered by my kicks and stones
And stasis outside bakeries
meant you could never quite make peace with
the person you felt you'd become.
And the men that you'd call toxic
build bricks within their boxes
and face the future 'progress' plucked away.
And the women talk of the weather
whilst pulling people together
to inch towards the time to have their say.
And on the day you left to look for truth in stories sold
I'll swear I saw a sycamore swiftly shed its swirling load
In truth, it's all enigma, but if any can be found,
you've got to lay down your roots,
and tap it deep from your own ground.
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6. |
Metastasis
00:38
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Josh arranged and performed this all by himself - what an excellent egg!
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7. |
The Big C
02:39
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TL;DR - profit proliferates.
Capital cancer, the big C
It's in the car sourced from cheap Chinese steel
driven on my own, given with a loan which clamps my wheels
to this cracked black trickle of tarmac which I crawl along most days
to feel able, to stay stable, to pay my way
It's in the ironic cycle of consumption and desire
it's in our fabric, in our tablets, in the objects of our ire
we're born with capital cancer
we struggle for the answer whilst our questions fade away
we use the tools of the master
to chip at cracks in plaster
whilst wealth dictates our days
and at the last
when all is ash
we'll find capital cancer
the big C
We are indebted to Audre Lorde for her 'master's tools' way of thinking about radical change. Audre Lorde was fucking fantastic and she can show you a lot about your life.
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Animal Byproducts Manchester, UK
placid pals peddling patriatrchy-poking parp punk.
Manchester/Leeds.
linktr.ee/animalbyproducts
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Power pop poetry for political punx
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Plainly perfect paeans to the populace
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Proggy prickle pops pointless preconceptions
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Earnest indie rock from Boston with songs that swing from hard-hitting rockers to tender ballads with heart-on-sleeve lyrics.
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