1. |
Minus Whales
01:10
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2. |
Flake on Me
03:59
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We can't wait to be forgotten once again.
Don't call me. Your future absence is welcome here.
No need to worry. None of us really cared.
Don't say you're sorry, You're always thin air.
Pardon me. Justify it all you want.
We can't wait to stay deserted once again.
Don't call me. Your lack of presence is welcome here.
No need to hurry. Ditching us was not rare.
No need to worry. Well, none of us really cared.
Don't say you're sorry, You're always thin air.
No sweat. Don’t care. Always thin air.
No need to worry. None of us really cared.
Don't say you're sorry. You're always thin air.
We can't wait to be abandoned once again.
Don't call me. We truly love that you’re not here.
You don't need to tell me. Proceed with your own affair.
No need to hurry. Ditching us isn’t rare.
Don’t tell me. None of us really cared.
Don't touch me. Forever, thin air.
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3. |
Pai Gow Resort
02:12
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|
Three days of game play.
No loss from errors.
Gee Joon and stasis.
Non-stop refreshments.
All superstitions.
Good luck, one more push.
No lows and no highs.
No anxiety.
Gee Joon and stasis.
No anxiety.
1 3 1 5. 1 2 2 4.
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4. |
Taco Cops
01:35
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bob 96 - you ok after that escabeche?
jer 13 - I can handle this one. 10-4.
bob 96 - maybe yours. What about my one?
jer 13 - unable to copy… uh your meaning, officer 10-4.
bob 96 - we’ll relax back at the station. hugs. 10-4.
jer 15 - unable to copy again. Hugs?
merrill 07 - Jer 15 not present sir
harlan 04 - we have a 187 in the lockers at the station. Back up needed. No suspect. All agencies on alert.
merrill 07 - the weapon for the 187 scans for Jer 15. Can we locate Jer 15?
harlan 04 - victim identified as Bob 96.. it’s really quite a mess here.
merrill 07 - Request Unit 5 to get the body.
harlan 04 - 10-4.
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5. |
Hibiscus Hangover
03:12
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6. |
End of Tunes
03:35
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|
So yeah, we’re approaching a new era — a — “End of Tunes”.
American record labels have just flat out run out of formats and genres that have traditionally worked.
Like, they just threw out “Electronica” out of desperation.
And it actually worked really well for a while.
And now, it’s permanently changed music going forward.
And like, Post Rock is what the underground is all about now — music made to defy formality by any means necessary.
The majors are just throwing out novelty after novelty, going back to boy bands and girl bands. Even the Indies have no idea what works anymore.
So, not only the end of tunes, we’re at the end of the format, the end of formulas.
Industries are getting their golden parachutes ready once the Dot-Com gold runs out.
You read “Hit Men”, right?
The music industry is corrupt.
It’s always been a machismocracy.
Powerful men. Horrible men, being able to make music history decade after decade.
But the Information Superhighway — this is how all of us met — it’s the one thing that goes over the heads of these powerful men.
It turns out these men aren’t as smart as they’re made out to be.
So what we’re seeing is…
Yes, we’re at the end of tunes, the end of formats, the end of formulas, and the end of men.
Why are men so adamant to treat women as subhuman, back in the 1950s, previous centuries, olden times, and even now in the 90s?
Because they’re making one last effort to save their own natural existence.
If you look at the human chromosomes, you know, the X and Y chromosomes -- women are XX, men are XY -- the Y chromosome looks just a like a growth on the X chromosome at this point.
The Y chromosome has, like, eleven molecules left.
And after those molecules drift away, we’ll no longer have men as we know them.
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7. |
Volcano of Charm
06:08
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8. |
Mister Anchorage
04:17
|
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|
Why did I never call you back again?
It would have never mattered anyway.
You surely would have ducked and disappeared.
I manufactured stress perpetually.
I could have gathered the maturity...
...to take a breath and raise my quality
...to have the patience and centrality
...to just accept responsibility
...to bow to your exclusive sanctity.
We really should obstruct normality.
Maybe it’s better that we never sparked.
We might have severed our good hearts apart.
You would have never met your confidante.
He’ll never comprehend the depth of his luck...
...to have you hold him to his guarantee
...to give him love in perpetuity.
Is it a form of durability?
If he betrays you, he’ll regretfully...
...compound your credence and uncertainty.
I hope “forever” breeds security.
For many years, I dreamed about your gaze.
We don’t have time to talk too much these days.
We’re likely healthier through separate ways.
I caught your nervous smile, it was so sweet.
Electric blankets couldn’t match your heat.
Your holy scent is immortality.
Your taste, you smell, so transcendentally.
I tried to make you warm for second base.
Was too impatient to consider your pace.
Across the net was how we kept in touch.
I held my head, I wanted you so much.
I truly thought to voyage back in time.
So I could bask in you, you’re so sublime.
While never making you feel ill at ease.
My world was yours, save an occasional tease.
Your words and pure conviction was my drug.
Wrapped in your arms, I never felt more snug
We really should destroy normality...
...to bow to my exclusive sanctity.
Always deny responsibility.
Forgo the patience and centrality.
Don’t ever try to raise your quality.
You could have gathered the maturity.
You manufactured stress perpetually.
I surely would have ducked and disappeared.
We would have never wounded anyone.
Why have you never called me back again?
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9. |
That's Where Clouds Die
07:34
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|
Drop the asphalt hyperstructure, never to be overturned
Now ditch our angry flight instructor. It’s time to cue up the overture
Status checks with limitations aggravate the lack of seasons.
Seismachismo and evacuations defined this place as a fetch for demons
Filth forever, war. Fifth door over fourth.
Rental dents in a study burrow, that Twisted village had all the answers.
Fourteen hours from a Hummer Inferno was way too long for the trip enhancers.
Relaxing shady speeding fines from Billings to Sparta and Fort McCoy.
The Bismarck anarchists piled up tiles and fought for rights to just enjoy/
Filth forever, war. Fifth door over fourth.
|
||||
Friends Below Zero Seattle, Washington
"For All The Fucked-Up Indie Pop of This World, We Give You..."
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