1. |
Pavlov
03:20
|
|||
|
Every time that i'm nice to myself, I'm gonna reinforce that feeling with the ring of a bell.
I'm using Pavlov to condition myself, so I can create a lie that I'm okay.
It seems to be nothing more than a thin veneer plastering the cracks in the wall.
Or does it actually improve the integrity, strengthening to the core.
[Cyclical muttering about integrity and strength and cores.]
Am I right to sneer at the thin veneer, looking close for cracks showing through?
Or should I take a step back and say "Look at that, it's a perfect finish from here."
Am I right to think the pit that I'm in is really all that much of a bad thing?
Maybe cynical nihilism is the pinnacle of honest human reflection.
I'm not paralysed all of the time, I still enjoy affection, I'm a pretty snazzy dancer.
Don't wanna be a self help junkie, I just want to be a post neuromancer.
[Cyclical muttering about neuromancers and New Romancers.]
It's all about existential doubt and brutal honesty.
But it's not the big questions here that are messing me about.
It's more the fact I'm still this and that, scattered leaves on the breeze.
Scattered leaves, on the breeze.
So every time that I'm nice to myself I'm going to reinforce that feeling with the ring of a bell.
I'm using Pavlov to condition myself so I can accept the way I am is okay.
I accept myself completely and totally, I am not a beautiful or unique snowflake.
I'm a monkey with my brain wired for pain but I can still spit my blues I'm here every day.
|
||||
2. |
Make Me Young
05:09
|
|||
|
I'm going to throw this one over my shoulder,
leave it behind as I stride.
I'm standing up I'm going to show them,
the merits of this artistic life.
Came to the world from the North Atlantic,
with yearning my eyes turn to the shore.
I'm knee deep in Bermuda Erns,
one day my son all this will be yours.
This path I'm on is predetermined,
and was that way since the first page that you turned.
This path will face me with my creator,
and when I see him I will sure have some words.
This machine fulfils such a purpose,
just like the vessel of my empty works.
Fills empty shells with a vile meaning,
and leaves me curled up on a handball court.
I am a single unwavering band of light.
Sit back and watch the puppets in flight.
And then I see him, my creator.
Hurrying away into the night.
Get to my feet, plastic coated.
I stumble as these words hit my tongue.
I get to my feet, they're plastic coated.
I stumble as these words they hit my tongue.
Oh make me young, make me young, make me young.
Make me young. (repeat)
|
||||
Martin Coote Falmouth, UK
If you like Martin Coote, you may also like:
Breezy acoustic pop from Dunedin, “Caprice” floats feathery vocals over sunny guitars and keys.
go to album
Make-Believe a.k.a. 365 Days vol. 4
by Jessica in The Rainbow
Dreamy, intimate experimental pop, part of the artist's challenge to herself to write and record a song every single day of the year.
go to album
Within/Without
by Houses of Heaven
If you've been craving something dark and gritty yet stylish and dancefloor-ready, this hard-edged industrial synth opus might fit the bill.
go to album
True Romance EP
by James Massiah
featured on Bandcamp Radio Apr 9, 2024
go to album
Actually, the quiet is nice
by Draag
Interlocking harmonies, melty washes of guitars, and dream-like atmospherics abound on the L.A. shoegaze group's new EP.
go to album
Vou Ficar Neste Quadrado
by Ana Lua Caiano
A revved-up reinterpretation of traditional Portuguese music, exploring various folkways through the lenses of jazz, pop, and electronic.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Mar 12, 2024
go to album
