1. |
Misremembered
02:51
|
|||
|
There was something I was trying to say
But I kept losing my grip on the slippery meaning
The same way cold resentments can get swallowed
By the start of the spring, when everything’s beginning
Dehydrated dreamers practice shitty tricks in the grass
Weak ollies and yin-yang ankle tats
These are 5K stragglers, dealership hagglers
The sad-faced bystanders on those gas station cameras
And there was something I was trying to say
But I was followed by a non-descript chemical smell
An amature witch cast her fist binding spell
And the laughter of my neighbors in their trailers
Punctuated those awful tendrils
Awful edges as your hometown keeps extending its bleed
Every time that you leave
Misremembered awful passage of some book
You didn’t actually read, yeah?
We all navigate the having of bodies and histories
It’s a snuff film existence
Matthew writes poetry about coffee piss, loneliness,
The only-ness of his childhood
And I do my best to stand in as some simulated sibling
A satellite rendition of an oddball older brother
A mythical creature who’s got his shit together
But it never works
There was something I was trying to say
But the paperwork at the plasma center ate up the first half of the day
The creeps in their cars just got in my way
I went looking for my friends
It was last call again
Oh, the embers
When the controlled burn that you call your 20’s is finally
extinguished, you know you’ll still need someplace to go
Misremembered every story, every word, every lyric, every mention
Everything that I said, everything that it meant
But it’s okay! It’s ok.
There was something I was trying to say.
|
||||
2. |
Reactionary
02:08
|
|||
|
I remember daylight draining
Driving through the endless West Texas fading
In remote negotiations on my own evaporating world
Panic was a place I stayed in
I dug my nails into my face out of raw frustration
Too used to my own displacement
And the exhaustion in the way you said my name
And I watched the sun come up
Talking on the front porch in those hushed and toxic breaths
While inside the brand new lovers soft as strangers gently slept
Maybe when you’re finally famous
You can pay someone to do your communicating
And they can translate it
I couldn’t comprehend a word
No, nothing that you said made sense
But I didn’t actually mind
There’s something entertaining
When you’re dealing with reactionary types
In every picture you just looked so sad!
But I guess that was what you liked
I could never understand
Why you wanted that imaginary life.
|
||||
3. |
2008
02:47
|
|||
|
That brutal unreciprocated wave to a stranger
You thought would know you
All of those first week mistakes that you’ve already made;
They’re culminating in another year
That you spend curled up in a ball proclaiming,
“OH MY GOD I HATE IT HERE!!!”
But god already knows you hate it here.
You were sad before you got here
And you’ll be sad when you move on
You’ll be sad that they don’t miss you when you’re gone
But there’s no shame in wanting a place
Where everything feels good
Who wouldn’t want to live there if they could?
2008-- an era of pointless boys in putrid sea foam V-necks
I wanted to hate but I was much the same
Spiritually broke, my Bridge Card revoked
When I got a job working in the basement of Amer. Appar.
They had to take my picture there to see if I could get hired
Before I got hired
When everything is paper thin you just have to adapt
You learn how to breathe slowly and move on fast
But you won’t be blamed for wanting a place
Where you feel understood
Who wouldn’t try to find that if they could?
|
||||
4. |
Brickwall
02:49
|
|||
|
Six pack, thirty rack, brick wall
I’m gonna drink them all
I hate myself in a way
I hate myself every day
Flag fights, blue and white, red stripe
The animals are right
There’s got to be another way
There’s got to be a better way
But you don’t really talk to him now
He’s just a costume that you once wore
You don’t really talk to him now
Don’t think about him ‘til you’re falling on the floor
And you’re crawling on the floor
You don’t really talk anymore
Spend your time looking at books about New York from the 1990’s
But you know it’s not the same anymore
And all your friends, every single one of them
They’re unavailable, they’re obsessed
With taking pictures of their children
They’ve got one foot out the door
They were born with one foot out the door
And you don’t really talk to them now
You’re like a postcard that they can hang
You don’t really talk to them now
Unless they call you to lethargically complain
To make fun of the old gang
You don’t really talk anymore
One time, I remember, you told me
I was like a child who was too smart for the lesson
But still didn’t learn anything
You were my boyfriend then
Six pack, thirty rack
When are you gonna come back and be my boyfriend again?
Come back and be my boyfriend again.
|
||||
5. |
Open Letter to Forever
01:53
|
|||
|
Oh the crushing weight of an exceptional memory!
There’s a detailed, unfailing transcript of every conversation waiting
And I know it’s annoying
But what happens in a house with the windows always open
And the water always flowing and the candles always burning
And the porch light always broken?
And love is always looming but it’s tired of your attention
It feels like an excuse you use to rename old conventions
I made the flyer myself -- it said “ALL ARE WELCOME”
But failed to mention that strict psychic dress code
Like, I remember standing out in front of the Northern
After another 15-paid gig
Getting harrassed by Olympia street punks (the worst!) for looking like a hipster
I wanted to be like “Man, I’m probably a couple years younger than your father.
And I’ve traded in any chance at stability for this community of people who, like,
Know what Black Flag is, or whatever. And look a little closer-
This outfit is amazing!
You think these pops of pastel play off of each other on accident?”
But no, I didn’t say any of that
It was just another moment crystallizing
Another open letter to forever
Like the fast food trash on the side of the road
The poorly timed reminder of home
The manic rush towards anything
That makes it harder for you to tell me who I am.
|
||||
6. |
Changer
01:00
|
|||
7. |
||||
|
When the lights come on I’ll have been awake for hours
A thin film of sweat on my skin
Partial lists of pink dawn reflections clogging my mind
But no progress and another dead kid in my feed
More words screamed about *Life After Money*
But it’s fuzzy, still unclear how far a voice can really reach
I’m watching each contender surrender whatever
They say “I don’t even care! I just want to feel better!”
You talk about your enemies, that doesn’t really interest me
I’m grateful just to be considered
As possibly something more than just
A cloud of distressed emotions
A custodian of regular feelings
So much of the time I am speculation, snark and argument
But that “Dirty Boots” video from when I was a kid,
I still remember trusting it
And I saw an unbroken world where everything was explained
And the people survived
Everyone was alive
And everyone kissed and every kiss was forgotten
Seconds after it happened
Everyone was swimming
Everyone was in love and nobody cared
In my dreams I get visits from every beautiful being who’s ever left me
They kiss my face, they tell me they miss me, they love me
They want to protect me
I say “I miss you, too!! I’m trying to be something better for you.”
I’m trying to scratch through to the immaculate core
That gets hidden in the center of all these regular feelings
All those regular feelings
All those laundromat feelings
All those grocery store feelings
All those canker sore feelings
All those overdraft feelings
Second place feelings
You’re just like anyone else feelings
All those regular feelings
All those internet feelings
All those angry dad feelings
All those White Castle feelings
All those left behind feelings
Those student loan feelings
Those D.U.I. feelings
The phones-about-to-die feelings
Unpopular feelings
Your UTI feelings
Those bus station feelings.
|
||||
8. |
||||
9. |
||||
|
A memory swarm from a lesser hive
Leaves you crying in the bathroom at the party
While the unholy midwest drunk drivers
Lace up the highways like always
Here’s another night that feels amazing
Until the morning
The summer boys smile at everybody
But they only leave with young sociopaths
Ugly smiles on such pretty people
“They’re worse off in a lot of ways.”
That’s what you say
The August rats are the first to feel the chill
When the fall’s coming on
They say “Fuck, man. Can’t something be
kinda good before it’s kinda gone?”
Here’s another garbage year to dread the end of
Like a nothing kiss that felt so arbitrary
Felt like it was something you were supposed to do
A symptom of youth
Those carsick tears on that shitty birthday
“Well, it will all be for something someday.”
That’s what you say.
|
||||
10. |
Echolocation
02:56
|
|||
|
I couldn’t stand to hear your voice
At certain points in those desperate days
4:30 in the morning, no place to be
Trying to sleep on the train
You said “You met me at my lowest,
You know this place-- it just brings out the worst.”
But that was a lie you told yourself
While you burned in a constant state
Of flickering between the person you were
And the one you became
A disgusting oscillation between the way that you were
And the way that you stayed
You’ve been moving your trash
From room to room, from city to city, from place to place
And now you’ve got a pile of trash
That you can fall into whenever you want to.
|
||||
11. |
Infuriated
03:49
|
|||
12. |
Oval Beach
02:58
|
|||
13. |
Mallwalkers
04:05
|
|||
|
Is this the same song? Does something feel slower?
Is something wrong? Is there anything wrong?
Does something feel slower?
Or is this just the same daydreamed death where you see yourself lowered
Into the cold, greedy ground as your parents and plagiarists lose their shit
Sobbing over your casket
And you broadcast it every couple of hours
When you’re not busy with customers
Selling cell phone cases and cords at that kiosk in the middle of the mall
Air-conditioned days in this insufferable summer
And at night you watch your friends dance around
Feeling weird about fucking each other
And you wonder “Do I even need to be here?” and “Why does this hurt?”
You find a more consistent community with those early morning mallwalkers
Than these horrid hushed hall talkers; judge-gabled gawkers
Some will call you their crush, but they’re all stalkers
And soon enough you’ll find yourself thrust up against those fall lockers
Dreaming of a simple suspended eternity
Where you’re stoned in your basement, playing games,
Hanging out with your dogs
Could it ever be possible to just pause on that feeling?
And why does it seem like now every boy cuts you off when you start speaking?
And why do things feel negated before they’re experienced?
Why does it hurt?
When they tell you you talk like a teenager, you sound so stupid
Say nothing
Because those high school scars, and the parallel bars
All the lonely lights on these frozen cars
Every broken-wrist handstand in some best friend’s yard
And every ugly part of everything that people keep on telling you you are
They aren’t yours, they’re just wrong.
|
||||
If you like Fred Thomas, you may also like:
Everybody Works
by Jay Som
supported by 47 fans who also own “Changer”
WHAT THE HELL, YOU GUYS. Why is this album so good?! It’s so warm and inviting and engaging; it’s like an electric blanket for your ears. I don’t know how someone can make such excruciatingly wonderful music as this at 22 years of age, but I’m here for it!
go to album
POST-
by Jeff Rosenstock
supported by 47 fans who also own “Changer”
The melancholy and frustration definitely gets to you.
go to album
Quit the Curse
by Anna Burch
supported by 38 fans who also own “Changer”
This is an amazing album. Wonderfully thoughtful lyrics and super catchy songs
go to album
I Want The Door To Open
by Lala Lala
On her latest record, Lillie West considers the way the self is constructed.
go to album
The Woman You Want
by Eliza Shaddad
Haddad returns with cinematic soundscapes that include introspective folk, post-grunge, and indie-pop influences.
go to album
Doubt & Reckoning
by Nuala Honan
Australian artist Nuala Honan's new record is packed with evocative, emotionally powerful songs and a voice to match.
go to album
A Place I'll Always Go
by Palehound
supported by 34 fans who also own “Changer”
Turning 21 is a classically sentimental pop song
go to album
